The G.A. Henty MEGAPACK ®. G.a. Henty Henty
“Who is that fellow?” Guy asked the merchant.
“He is the son of Caboche, the head of the flayers, one of the most pestilent villains in the city.”
“Keep your eye on him, Tom, and when you see a chance send an arrow home.”
“That armour of his is but common stuff, Master Guy; as soon as I get a chance I will send a shaft through it.”
The man with a gesture of anger turned and gave instructions to a number of men, who pushed their way through the crowd, first picking up some of the fallen hammers and axes. The fate of his associate had evidently taught the horseman prudence, for as he moved away he kept his head bent down so as not to expose his face to the aim of the terrible marksman at the window. He halted a short distance away and was evidently haranguing the crowd round him, and in his vehemence raised his arm. The moment he did so Tom’s bow twanged. The arrow struck him at the unprotected part under the arm-pit, and he fell headlong from his horse. Maddened with rage the crowd no longer hesitated, and again attacked the door. Just as they did so there was a roar of exultation down the street as twelve men brought up a solid gate that they had beaten in and wrenched from its hinges from a house beyond.
“You can shoot as you like now, Tom. I will go down and see how the men are getting on below; the mob will have the door in sooner or later.”
Guy found that the men below had not wasted their time. A great pile of logs, sacks, and other materials was piled against the door, and a short distance behind stood a number of barrels of wine and heavy cases ready to be placed in position.
“Get them upstairs, Jean,” Guy said; “they will make a better barricade than the furniture, which we may as well save if possible.”
The nine men set to work, and in a very short time a strong barricade was formed across the top of the wide staircase.
“Have you all the cases out of the shop?”
“Yes, we have not left one there, Master Guy. If they are all full of silver there must be enough for a royal banqueting-table.”
Some, indeed, of the massive chests were so heavy that it required the efforts of six men to carry them upstairs.
“How do matters go, Guy?” Dame Margaret asked quietly as he re-entered the apartment.
“Very well,” he replied. “I don’t think the door will hold out much longer; but there is a strong barricade behind it which it will take them some time to force, and another on the landing here that we ought to be able to hold for an hour at least, and before that yields we will have another ready on the landing above.”
“I will see to that,” she said. “I will take Agnes and Charlie up with me, and then, with the women, I will move out the clothes’ and linen chests and build them up there.”
“Thank you, madame; I trust long before the barricade here is carried we shall have D’Estournel and his friends to our assistance. Indeed, I doubt whether they will be able to carry it at all; it is as solid and almost as strong as a stone wall, and as there are thirteen or fourteen of us to defend it, it seems to me that nothing short of battering the cases to pieces will enable them to force a way.”
“I wish I could do something,” Agnes broke in; “it is hard not to be able to help while you are all fighting for us. I wish I had brought my bow with me, you know I can shoot fairly.”
“I think that it is just as well that you have not,” Guy said with a smile. “I do not doubt your courage for a moment, but if you were placing yourself in danger we should all be anxious about you, and I would much rather know that you were safe with your mother upstairs.”
Guy now went to the window. Maître Leroux had been directing his servants in the formation of the barricades.
“I can do nothing to protect the door,” the archer said; “they have propped up that gate so as to cover the men who are hammering at it. I have been distributing my arrows among the crowd, and in faith there will be a good many vacancies among the butchers and flayers in the market tomorrow morning. I am just going up to fill my quiver again and bring down a spare armful of arrows.”
“Leave those on the landing here, Tom, and bring your full quiver down below. The door will not hold many minutes longer: I could see that it was yielding when I was down there just now. I don’t think that we shall be able to make a long defence below, for with their hooked halberts they will be able to pull out the logs, do what we will.”
One of the servants now ran in.
“They have broken the door down, sir. It is only kept in place by the things behind it.”
Guy ran out, climbed the barricade—which on the landing was four feet high, but as it was built on the edge of the top stair it was nine inches higher on that face—let himself drop on to the stairs, and ran down into the passage.
“I think, Maître Leroux,” he said, “that you and your men had better go up at once and station yourselves at the barricade. There is no room here for more than five of us to use our arms, and when we retire we shall have to do so quickly. Will you please fasten a chair on the top step in such a way that we can use it to climb over the barricade without delay? We are like to be hard pressed, and it is no easy matter to get over a five-foot wall speedily with a crowd of armed men pressing hotly on your heels.”
The provost told two of his men to pick out a square block of firewood, as nearly as possible the thickness of the height of one of the steps. After trying several they found one that would do, and on placing it on the stair next to the top it formed with the step above it a level platform. On this the chair was placed, a strong rope being attached to it so that it could be pulled up over the barricade when the last of the defenders had entered. By the time this was finished the battle below began in earnest. The infuriated assailants had pulled the doors outwards and were making desperate efforts to climb the pile of logs. This they soon found to be impossible, and began with their halberts to pull them down, and it was not long before they had dislodged sufficient to make a slope up which they could climb. Their work had not been carried on with impunity, for the archer had stationed himself on the top and sent his arrows thick and fast among them.
“In faith, master,” he said to Guy, who stood close behind, “methinks that I am doing almost as much harm as good, for I am aiding them mightily in making their slope, which will presently contain as many dead men as logs.”
As soon as they deemed the slope climbable the furious assailants charged up. They were met by Guy and the four men-at-arms. Tom had now slung his bow behind him and had betaken himself to his heavy axe, which crashed through the iron caps of the assailants as though they had been eggshells. But in such numbers did they press on that Guy saw that this barricade could not be much longer held.
“Get ready to retire when I give the word!” he shouted to his companions. “Tom, you and Jules Varoy and Robert Picard run first upstairs. When you have climbed the barricade, do you, Tom, take your place on the top. Jean Bart and I will come up last, and you can cover us with your arrows. Tell Maître Leroux to remove the light into the room, so that they will not be able to see what there is to encounter, while these torches here and those held by the crowd will enable you to see well enough to take aim. Now!” he shouted, “fall back!”
Tom and the two men-at-arms sprang up the stairs, Guy and Jean Bart followed more slowly, and halted a few steps from the top.
“All up, master!” Tom shouted, and Jean and Guy were able to cross the barricade before the foremost of their pursuers reached them. There had indeed been confusion below, for several of those who had first climbed the barricade had, instead of pressing hotly in pursuit, run along the hall and through the door into the shop, in their eagerness to be the first to seize upon the plunder. They expected the others to follow their example, but one of their leaders placed himself in their way and threatened to cut them down if they did not first assault the stairs.
“Fools!” he shouted, “do you think that the old fox has wasted the time we have given him?