ing 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 shouting.

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