ward."

"You are right, Thomas!" cried Knolles. "Gather together twenty
men-at-arms each with his shield to cover him. Astley, do you place the
bowmen so that no head may show at window or parapet. Nigel, I pray you
to order the countryfolk forward with their fardels of fagots. Let the
others bring up the lopped pine-tree which lies yonder behind the horse
lines. Ten men-at-arms can bear it on the right, and ten on the left,
having shields over their heads. The gate once down, let every man rush
in. And God help the better cause!"

Swiftly and yet quietly the dispositions were made, for these were old
soldiers whose daily trade was war. In little groups the archers formed
in front of each slit or crevice in the walls, whilst others scanned
the battlements with wary eyes, and sped an arrow at every face which
gleamed for an instant above them. The garrison shot forth a shower of
crossbow bolts and an occasional stone from their engine, but so deadly
was the hail which rained upon them that they had no time to dwell upon
their aim, and their discharges were wild and harmless. Under cover of
the shafts of the bowmen a line of peasants ran unscathed to the edge
of the ditch, each hurling in the bundle which he bore in his arms, and
then hurrying back for another one. In twenty minutes a broad pathway
of fagots lay level with the ground upon one side and the gate upon
the other. With the loss of two peasants slain by bolts and one archer
crushed by a stone, the ditch had been filled up. All was ready for the
battering-ram.

With a shout, twenty picked men rushed forward with the pine-tree under
their arms, the heavy end turned toward the gate. The arbalesters on the
tower leaned over and shot into the midst of them, but could not stop
their advance. Two dropped, but the others raising their shields ran
onward still shouting, crossed the bridge of fagots, and came with a
thundering crash against the door. It splintered from base to arch, but
kept its place.

Swinging their mighty weapon, the storming party thudded and crashed
upon the gate, every blow loosening and widening the cracks which rent
it from end to end. The three knights, with Nigel, the Frenchman Raoul
and the other squires, stood beside the ram, cheering on the men, and
chanting to the rhythm of the swing with a loud "Ha!" at every blow. A
great stone loosened from the parapet roared through the air and
struck Sir James Astley and another of the attackers, b