bring forward mantelets and pavisses,2 and the archers muster on the skirts of the wood like a dark cloud before a hail-storm.”
Reginald Front-de-Bœuf also looked out upon the field, and immediately snatched his bugle; and, after winding a long and loud blast, commanded his men to their posts on the walls.
“De Bracy, look to the eastern side, where the walls are lowest.—Noble Bois-Guilbert, thy trade hath well taught thee how to attack and defend, look thou to the western side.—I myself will take post at the barbican. Yet, do not confine your exertions to any one spot, noble friends! we must this day be everywhere, and multiply ourselves, were it possible, so as to carry by our presence succour and relief wherever the attack is hottest. Our numbers are few, but activity and courage may supply that defect, since we have only to do with rascal clowns.”
“But, noble knights,” exclaimed Father Ambrose, amidst the bustle and confusion occasioned by the preparations for defence, “will none of ye hear the message of the reverend father in God, Aymer, Prior of Jorvaulx?—I beseech thee to hear me, noble Sir Reginald!”
“Go patter thy petitions to Heaven,” said the fierce Norman, “for we on earth have no time to listen to them. Ho! there, Anselm! see that seething pitch and oil are ready to pour on the heads of these audacious traitors. —Look that the crossbow-men lack not bolts.3—Fling abroad my banner with the old bull’s head—the knaves shall soon find with whom they have to do this day!”
“But, noble sir,” continued the monk, persevering in his endeavours to draw attention, “consider my vow of obedience, and let me discharge myself of my superior’s errand.”
“Away with this prating dotard,” said Front-de-Bœuf; “lock him up in the chapel, to tell his beads till the broil be over. It will be a new thing to the saints in Torquilstone to hear aves and paters; they have not been so honoured, I trow, since they were cut out of stone.”
“Blaspheme not the holy saints, Sir Reginald,” said De Bracy; “we shall have need of their aid to-day before yon rascal rout disband.”
“I expect little aid from their hand,” said Front-de-Bœuf, “unless we were to hurl them from the battlements on the heads of the villains. There is a huge lumbering St. Christopher yonder, sufficient to bear a whole company to the earth.”
The Templar had in the meantime been looking out on the proceedings of the besiegers, with rather more attention than the brutal Front-de-Bœuf or his giddy companion.
“By the faith of mine Order,” he said, “these men approach with more touch of discipline than could have been judged, however they come by it. See ye how dexterously they avail themselves of every cover which a tree or bush affords, and shun exposing themselves to the shot of our crossbows? I spy neither banner nor pennon among them, and yet will I gage my golden chain, that they are led on by some noble knight or gentleman, skilful in the practice of wars.”
“I espy him,” said De Bracy; “I see the waving of a knight’s crest, and the gleam of his armour. See yon tall man in the black mail, who is busy marshalling the farther troop of the rascaille yeomen. By St. Dennis, I hold him to be the same whom we called Le Noir Faineant, who overthrew thee, Front-de-Bœuf, in the lists at Ashby.”
“So much the better,” said Front-de-Bœuf, “that he comes here to give me my revenge. Some hilding fellow he must be, who dared not stay to assert his claim to the tourney prize which chance had assigned him. I should in vain have sought for him where knights and nobles seek their foes, and right glad am I he hath here shown himself among yon villain yeomanry.”