Part 15

Peter was now almost himself again, and seeing that entry by the main gateway was effectually barred for a time, cried excitedly:

"But what of the door from the courtyard to the dungeons, Master Edgar? Will they not enter there? If 'tis only to sell our lives dearly that thou hast fought thy way in here, let us climb upwards and defend ourselves upon the summit of the keep."

"'Tis not that alone, Peter, that made me dash in hither instead of meeting De Maupas and settling our account once and for all. 'Tis more because I saw a glimmer of hope, remote but clear. As for the other door, 'twill be fast locked, and what jailer would carry his keys to the battle? Nay, we have a few minutes' respite--let us use it well. Upward, Peter, upward! 'Tis the lady Beatrice we must next seek and succour if we can."

So saying, Edgar took the lead and sprang quickly up the stairs. He knew where to look, for while in the very midst of the melee raging about the outer gates he had caught a glimpse of a hand, small and white, stretched out in mute appeal from a little window high up in the walls of the mighty donjon.

*CHAPTER XX*

*The Last Hope*

"Hark!" cried Beatrice, springing from the couch on which she had passed her second night at Ruthenes. "Hark, Jeannette, the call to arms is once more sounding! Dawn is breaking, and some deadly conflict is, I feel sure, about to begin outside."

From all sides indeed the blare of trumpets and the shouts of the men-at-arms, as they roused themselves from their slumbers and hastened excitedly to obey the call, resounded through the air. To one accustomed to the routine of castles it was clear that something of tremendous moment was happening, and hurrying to the little window of their chamber, Beatrice strove to catch a glimpse of what was afoot.

The thickness of the walls, however, was so great that, strain as she would, she could see no more than a few feet of the courtyard about the gates, and here, save for a few men-at-arms passing to and fro, nothing unusual was going on. Upward upon the outer walls, however, men were clustering more thickly, and in a moment or two they began to busy themselves in hurling down stones upon some enemy beyond. It was evident that the castle was attacked. But De Maupas had said that Edgar Wintour was a captive: who, then, could be the enemy? Suddenly there was a tremendous thud against the walls a few yards above her head, and splinters of stone flew in all directions.

"Oh, the castle is being battered down!" cried Jeannette in alarm.

"Yes; that must have been a great stone cast by a mangonel or catapult, Jeannette. 'Twill go hard with us if one strikes here. 'Tis fortunate our window is not above the level of the outer walls."

"Hist, mistress--someone is at the door!"

It was true someone was at the door--someone, too, who appeared on secrecy bent, for the approach had been made without a sound and the key was being turned with the greatest caution. At last the door swung open and De Maupas entered.

He appeared to be labouring under great excitement, for his bearing was nervous and his looks were disordered.

"Maiden," he cried, speaking rapidly, "I must have thine answer to my proposal. Wilt thou become my bride and save the lives of Sir John and his esquire? Choose quickly, for we are attacked by a cruel and infuriated peasantry, who will spare neither age nor sex. At any moment they may break through our defences, for the castle is but half-manned and the peasants are fighting like men possessed. If thou wilt consent I am able to convey you all to safety outside the castle by a secret way. Decide quickly, or it will be too late.

"But wouldst desert thy friend?" cried Beatrice with cool disdain. "Perchance this is some new ruse to obtain my consent to a proposal I abhor. This castle is strong--why shouldst thou be so anxious to leave it?"

"Lady, 'tis no ruse. Your peril is great, for as I have said, though the castle is strong the garrison is weak. More than half our men did we lose in a skirmish outside the walls but yesterday.

"This is brave news thou art telling me, Sir Gervaise," cried Beatrice, whose serene bearing was in such contrast to the agitation of De Maupas that their situations appeared to have been reversed. "These peasants will not make war upon the tyrant's prisoners. They will accept as friends the victims of their oppressor."

"Think not so, lady," cried De Maupas vehemently. "Thou know'st not this rabble. They hate those of gentle blood with so deadly a hatred that all inside these walls who are not of themselves they will destroy. Sir John and Edgar Wintour will perish beneath the burning ruins, if they have not been dragged out of their cells and slain before the work of the torch begins."

For a moment Beatrice covered her face with her hands, as though the thought appalled her. Then she answered bravely:

"I prefer the mercies of the revolted peasantry to thine, Sir Gervaise. As for Sir John and his esquire, I refuse to believe that the rage of the peasants will extend even to the poor creatures buried alive in the castle dungeons. Besides----"

Beatrice stopped suddenly, for loud insistent shouts for De Maupas rang within the donjon and outside in the castle courtyard.

"'Tis De Brin calling me," cried De Maupas savagely, as he rushed hastily to the door. "Think not that thou wilt escape me," he added vengefully over his shoulder as he left the chamber. "If the worst comes to the worst I will bear thee hence by force."

A cry from Jeannette, who had gone to the window while her mistress had been parleying with De Maupas, brought back Beatrice's attention to the conflict being waged outside.

"The gates are down, Mistress Beatrice!" the maid cried in a voice shrill with excitement. "See, the defenders are gathering thickly in the breach."

Beatrice craned her neck to see, just in time to catch the first glimpse of the great rush of the peasantry which followed closely upon the battering-in of the gates. A confused medley of fiercely-fighting men was all she could make out for some minutes, but presently, as the defenders were driven back inch by inch towards the courtyard, two figures began to stand out from the press, and she recognized with a thrill of astonishment and joy--Edgar Wintour and his servant, Peter! De Maupas had lied--and they were alive and free! Then might not Sir John also----?

The fight at the gates was growing in intensity, and all her thoughts became concentrated on the exciting scene. Would they win a way through? Beatrice was a knight's daughter and could gauge a warrior's powers at a glance. She could see that the real strength of the attack lay in Edgar and Peter alone, and that the ill-armed peasantry, brave though they were, could make little impression on the mail-clad and well-disciplined men-at-arms.

Nevertheless she felt, with a certainty that surprised her, that victory would at last reward the attackers and that the castle would be won. She seemed to feel that one who could play such a part as Edgar Wintour in the lists of Bordeaux was not born to be defeated here. But see!--the attackers were gathering for a last leap forward--Edgar had raised his battle cry--Hurrah! the defenders were fleeing headlong down the courtyard, and the castle was won----

Ere Beatrice could cry aloud in the joy of victory, a sudden fearful change swept over the scene. From the roof of the donjon, somewhere above her head, a burning hail of molten lead swept down, and the cries of victory were quenched and smothered in a louder burst of screams and wails. So dreadful were the anguished cries of many of the poor creatures, scorched and withered by the burning blast, that Beatrice, completely unnerved, cowered down upon the floor and wept.

Jeannette replaced her at the lattice and, with many ejaculations of disappointment, told of the charge of the armour-clad horsemen and the defeat and destruction of the broken remnants of the gallant peasants. Of Edgar and Peter she could see nothing. Knowing how loath they would be to flee, Beatrice felt, with a crushing sense of sorrow and disappointment, that even if they had escaped the showers of molten lead they must of a certainty have been overwhelmed and slain by the charging horsemen.

She was aroused from her prostration by another cry from Jeannette, who had turned from the window and was hearkening, not to the clangour outside, but to a noise that had attracted her attention within the donjon.

"It must be De Maupas," she cried excitedly. "I hear footsteps--doubtless it is De Maupas returning to press his suit now that the peasants are destroyed?"

Beatrice jumped quickly to her feet. Her prostration had vanished, and she faced the door with her eyes flashing and her little hands clenched. Jeannette could see that something had roused her beyond measure.

"Let not De Maupas approach me after slaying my poor friends!" she cried, stamping her foot with anger. "Refuse him admittance--tell him I abhor him and will not see him."

Jeannette fled to do her bidding. As she reached the door, however, it suddenly opened and a man strode hastily in, brushing aside the hand which the maid put out to detain him. It was Edgar Wintour.

At the sight of him Beatrice gave a gasp and looked as though she were about to fall. Edgar darted instantly to her side and took her gently by the arms. "Come, Beatrice," he cried, with breathless rapidity. "Our cause is lost, but if thou wilt trust thyself to me I will strive yet to save thee. The hope is indeed faint, but at the worst if I fail they can but compel me to surrender thee again."

*[Illustration: "'COME, BEATRICE, I WILL STRIVE YET TO SAVE THEE.'" (missing from book)*

"I would come," replied Beatrice vehemently, "though there had been no hope. But how canst dream of escape when the courtyard is held by the enemy?"

"Because a few days since a secret way led from out this donjon beneath courtyard and moat into the shelter of the woods. If 'tis not destroyed we may yet escape thence."

"It is not destroyed," cried Beatrice triumphantly. "'Tis but an hour since De Maupas besought me to let him bear me to safety through it."

"Then we shall yet escape," cried Edgar joyously. "Come--no more delay, for even now Black Eustace and his men are thundering at the gate. Onward, Peter--bring Jeannette, for we must be gone."

He sprang to the door and, taking Beatrice by the hand, hurried her along the passages towards the stone staircase by which he had escaped with Sir John but a few days before. As they passed the main stairway leading to the gate, the sound of axe and hammer strokes reverberating upwards made him pause.

"The door is giving way," he cried anxiously. "I fear they will be hotfoot upon our track in a few moments." Raising his voice he bade Peter hasten and hurried his companion on downwards to the vaults below. Scarcely had they reached them when there was a sudden crash from above, followed by a roar of savage cheers.

At the dread sound, Jeannette gave a scream of terror and almost collapsed.

"Hush!" cried Edgar sharply. "Dost wish to bring them upon us? Be silent as the tomb, or we are lost."

In another moment they reached the level of the dungeons and were within sight of the flight of steps leading downwards to the door of the underground passage. Most anxiously Edgar gazed before him into the gloom. It might well be that a guard had been posted.

No sign of a guard was to be seen, but a barricade of some sort appeared to have been erected at the head of the stairs. Could it be that the way was blocked after all? Running quickly to the spot, Edgar saw that what he had taken to be a barricade was a pile of great blocks of stone, similar to those heaped about the staircase, no doubt placed ready to fling down and block the way of an enemy advancing through the underground passage. The steps themselves were clear, and with a deep sigh of relief Edgar turned to his companions and once more bade them hasten.

There was of a truth no time to lose. The cheers from above had died away, but the more ominous rattle and clank of armed and mail-clad men advancing down the winding staircase was to be heard in its place. It was clear that De Brin or De Maupas had guessed that Edgar's object in taking refuge in the keep had been to escape by the underground passage, and that they were seeking him first in that direction. A bare half-minute would see them upon the scene.

"Canst not hew down the door?" cried Peter, as Edgar hesitated for a moment.

"Take my axe and give me thy sword," replied Edgar curtly. "Do thou hew it down while I defend the passage against our pursuers. Thou shalt save time. On, Peter, on!"

Peter seized the axe, sprang down the steps, and without an instant's pause attacked the door. After the first blow he gave a startled exclamation.

"What is it?" cried Edgar, turning as he was about to advance towards the enemy now almost at the foot of the stone stairway.

"The door is open!" cried Peter in an awed tone. "I fear a trap!"

"Either 'tis a trap or there is a sentinel stationed at the farther end," cried Edgar. "But we cannot now draw back. Onward, lad, and win a way through. Maidens, I beseech ye heed not the darkness but descend and follow closely upon Peter."

Peter moved onwards into the gloomy cavern, followed by the shrinking maidens, while Edgar stayed where he was, leaning quietly against the blocks of stone. For all his easy posture, the half darkness of the underground passage hid a face grown pale and anxious, for the peril in which the party now stood was extreme. It was not the advance of the body of men, who, carrying torches and headed by Sir Eustace de Brin in person, were now bearing rapidly down upon him, that filled him with anxiety. These he was prepared to oppose with the utmost desperation. It was the thought that sentinels might be posted at the farther end of the tunnel, and that Peter might be unable to cleave a way to freedom with his charges, that made his heart sink with a sickening feeling of dread.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*Through the Darkness*

Meanwhile events were moving with equal rapidity above-ground. The charge of Sir Eustace and his men-at-arms across the filled-in moat had completely dispersed the last of the peasants still remaining in the open. The priest had done his best to rally his men and to resist the horsemen, but his followers were infected by the panic which had seized upon those who had been engaged in storming the gates, and would not stand. He himself was wounded and must have been slain had not several of the more courageous of his band seized him and dragged him into the woods by force.

Once in the thickets the peasants were safe, and, realizing the folly of pursuing them with so small a force as he had at his disposal, De Brin contented himself with leading his men against the peasants still working at the mangonels. These fled hastily at his approach, and his men promptly proceeded to heap faggots around the machines. A light was procured, and, amid the cheers of the men-at-arms, the flames shot up until the engines were in the midst of a huge bonfire.

At this moment De Maupas spurred rapidly from out the castle and sought De Brin. His vizor was raised, and on his face was a look of savage joy. "Ho, there, Eustace!" he cried. "Their leader, this Edgar Wintour, hath taken refuge in the donjon. Doubtless he hopeth to escape through the underground passage. Quick, close this end, and he will be snugly trapped!"

"Ha, ha!" laughed De Brin. "If 'tis so, then he hath saved us much trouble, and mayhap provided us with some rare sport. Do thou, De Maupas, remain here, and see that he receiveth a warm reception if he seeketh to emerge this end. I, for my part, will see that his hot blood runs chilly in his veins before we have done with him. Ha, ha! But first we must seal him up completely within the cavern."

With a look of cruel anticipation upon his face that might of itself have chilled Edgar's blood had he been there to see it, Black Eustace spurred back through the gates and took charge of the men already engaged in hewing down the door of the donjon. As soon as the door showed signs of weakening, he drew aside two of the men and sent them on an errand that took them outside the walls.

Here the men looked about them for some moments before seizing upon one of the big ladders constructed by the peasants. The uprights were thick and strong, and one of these was knocked away from the crosspieces and the end carefully pointed. For what purpose these preparations were made was not apparent, but, from the haste with which the men completed their work, it seemed that they had at least some connection with the plight of the two fugitives in the castle donjon.

De Maupas had for some moments gazed thoughtfully around him before he set about his part of the task of destroying the fugitives. His eyes fell upon the great bonfire which now marked the spot whence the mangonels had discharged their deadly missiles, and with a grim smile he directed the men about him to pick up some of the big bundles of brushwood that had been left over when the filling-in of the moat had been accomplished. Then he led the way to the tiny glade where the tree with the hollow trunk had stood when Edgar had escaped with Sir John a short time before. Pointing to a certain spot in the ground, he directed his men to fling down their bundles and scoop away the earth. A large flagstone was soon disclosed, and on its being lifted a black pit, down which led a flight of steep stone steps, yawned before them. Kneeling, De Maupas called:

"Bruyard! Ho, there! Bruyard!"

After a moment's pause, a muffled voice replied:

"Who calleth?"

"De Maupas. Come hither!"

The noise of the opening and shutting of a door next ascended to the ears of the men above, and presently a man-at-arms appeared. He climbed the steep steps in leisurely fashion, and then stood blinking in the sunlight.

"What is it ye want, Sir Knight?" he asked surlily.

"Hast locked the door?" asked De Maupas impatiently.

"Nay, I have not. What need, if the enemy is driven off?"

"No matter," replied De Maupas shortly. "Come, men, pile your faggots about these steps, and hasten back for more. We will make a merry blaze, for I expect visitors from yon dismal depths. Pile the faggots high, and let us see if they will escape by the secret way a second time."

With a roar of savage enjoyment the men hastened to obey. They now saw the object of the move, and with many a joke to one another they hauled great bundles of wood to the fatal spot with every sign of gusto.

A brand was brought from the blazing mangonels, and the pile ignited. It blazed up and burned fiercely. Heavier and thicker pieces of wood were then flung on until the exit from the tunnel was ringed about with a veritable wall of fire. Satisfied that any man who attempted to plunge through such a furnace must perish miserably, De Maupas strolled up and down, awaiting with some impatience the news that the fugitives had indeed taken refuge in the tunnel, and that De Brin had succeeded in sealing up the castle end.

As he paced the greensward he noticed the two men who had been sent upon an errand by De Brin. They were just then busily engaged in sharpening the end of a long thick pole which they had obtained.

"What is this?" asked De Maupas. "Who set ye on to this, and for what purpose?"

"De Brin," replied one of the men laconically, giving his thumb a jerk in the direction of the castle gates. Then he indicated the moat, and ejaculated: "Cold water."

De Maupas stared at the man for a moment in some perplexity. Then the truth dawned upon him, and he went off into a fit of laughter.

"Ha, ha! Now I see what De Brin meant. Chill his hot blood--ha, ha! But even he knoweth not the final reception we have prepared for his uninvited guests. Ha, ha, ha!"

* * * * *

"Yield thyself!" cried De Brin, bearing down upon Edgar as he stood, sword in hand, at the head of the stairs leading to the underground tunnel. "Yield thyself, for thou art trapped!"

"I will yield myself when thou hast vanquished me, De Brin," replied Edgar, fencing vigorously as their blades clashed together. "How hast thou trapped me?"

"Thou seekest to escape through the passage, as once before. Know then that the farther end is guarded by thine enemy, De Maupas, and a dozen men. Thy friend, the priest, and all his flock are in full flight, and all is lost."

Edgar could not but believe. He had hoped that his pursuers would ransack the donjon for him before coming to the conclusion that he had flown to the tunnel for refuge. But unfortunately for him they had guessed that he would make for the passage, and had sealed it up. And with him were the two maidens.

The responsibility of their charge was crushing. Had there been only Peter he would, with a light heart enough, have dashed for the farther end in an attempt to break through, though to be unsuccessful was death. But his heart almost failed him when he thought of the terrible situation of the ladies. In his preoccupation he gave ground before De Brin's onslaught, and in a minute or two was driven back to the head of the flight of steps. Here he stood his ground for a few moments, and then, after feinting fiercely and compelling De Brin to give back, sprang down the steps to the open door below.

At this moment a man-at-arms pressed through the body of men about their leader, and whispered a few words in the knight's ear.

The effect was electrical.

"Ho, there! Edgar Wintour!" cried De Brin furiously. "Madman that thou art, they tell me that thou hast carried away the lady Beatrice and her maid with thee. 'Tis to certain death thou art dragging them. Yield them up, fool! There is escape neither for them nor for thee."

"If thou wilt promise to let them ride hence in peace, I will yield them up," replied Edgar quickly.

"Bah!" cried De Brin. "Thou hast yet to learn how completely thou art trapped. Let this teach thee!"

As he spoke the black knight set his weight against one of the huge blocks of stone piled by the head of the flight of steps. It moved, and bounded down the slope with tremendous weight and force. Luckily for Edgar it struck the massive doorpost, and did not come full into the doorway, or he must have been struck down and perhaps killed outright. Dreading lest such a mass of stone should bound along the tunnel and perhaps reach the ladies, our hero whipped the door to and put his weight against it.

Somewhat to Edgar's surprise, De Brin made no attempt to force the door, but instead ordered his men to hurl down upon it the piled-up blocks of stone. For some minutes a perfect avalanche of these rolled and bounded down upon the door, and every minute Edgar feared that it would be burst open. In the hope of adding a little to its strength he kept his weight against it, though the shock of each stone jarred him to the bone. At last the well formed by the steps began to be filled, and the jar and shock lessened until but a slight tremor followed as the rocks were still flung down. Soon the work was complete, and the castle end of the passage was blocked by a mass of stone that it would take hours' work by a score of men to clear away.

There was no more to be done there, and with a heavy heart Edgar left the door, and made his way along the tunnel. In the far distance a light had sprung up, and he guessed that Peter had managed to obtain a spark and had lit one of the torches they had been careful to snatch from the wall before they left the upper room.