he great square

tower rocked and trembled from its very foundations, swaying this

way and that like a reed in the wind. amazed and dizzy, the

defenders, clutching at the cracking parapets for support, saw

great stones, burning beams of wood, and mangled bodies hurtling

past them through the air. when they staggered to their feet

once more, the whole keep had settled down upon one side, so that

they could scarce keep their footing upon the sloping platform.

gazing over the edge, they looked down upon the horrible

destruction which had been caused by the explosion. for forty

yards round the portal the ground was black with writhing,

screaming figures, who struggled up and hurled themselves down

again, tossing this way and that, sightless, scorched, with fire

bursting from their tattered clothing. beyond this circle of

death their comrades, bewildered and amazed, cowered away from

this black tower and from these invincible men, who were most to

be dreaded when hope was furthest from their hearts.

"a sally, du guesclin, a sally!" cried sir nigel. "by saint

paul! they are in two minds, and a bold rush may turn them." he

drew his sword as he spoke and darted down the winding stairs,

closely followed by his four comrades. ere he was at the first

floor, however, he threw up his arms and stopped. "mon dieu!" he

said, "we are lost men!"

"what then?" cried those behind him.

"the wail hath fallen in, the stair is blocked, and the fire

still rages below. by saint paul! friends, we have fought a very

honorable fight, and may say in all humbleness that we have done

our devoir, but i think that we may now go back to the lady

tiphaine and say our orisons, for we have played our parts in

this world, and it is time that we made ready for another."

the narrow pass was blocked by huge stones littered in wild

confusion over each other, with the blue choking smoke reeking up

through the crevices. the explosion had blown in the wall and

cut off the only path by which they could descend. pent in, a

hundred feet from earth, with a furnace raging under them and a

ravening multitude all round who thirsted for their blood, it

seemed indeed as though no men had ever come through such peril

with their lives. slowly they made their way back to the summit,

but as they came out upon it the lady tiphaine darted forward and

caught her husband by the wrist.

"bertrand," said she, "hush and listen! i have heard the voices

of men all singing together in a strange tongue."

breathless they stood and silent, but no sound came up to them,

save the roar of the flames and the clamor of their enemies.

"it cannot be, lady," said du guesclin. "this night hath over

wrought you, and your senses play you false. what men ere there

in this country who would sing in a strange tongue?"

"hola!" yelled aylward, leaping suddenly into the air with waving

hands and joyous face. "i thought i heard it ere we went down,

and now i hear it again. we are saved, comrades! by these ten

finger-bones, we are saved! it is the marching song of the white

company. hush!"

with upraised forefinger and slanting head, he stood listening.

suddenly there came swelling up a deep-voiced, rollicking chorus

from somewhere out of the darkness. never did choice or dainty

ditty of provence or languedoc sound more sweetly in the ears

than did the rough-tongued saxon to the six who strained their

ears from the blazing keep:

we'll drink all together to the gray goose feather and the land

where the gray goose flew.

"ha, by my hilt!" shouted aylward, "it is the dear old bow song

of the company. here come two hundred as tight lads as ever

twirled a shaft over their thumbnails. hark to the dogs, how

lustily they sing!"

nearer and clearer, swelling up out of the night, came the gay

marching lilt:

what of the bow? the bow was made in england. of true wood, of

yew wood, the wood of english bows; for men who are free love

the old yew-tree and the land where the yew tree grows.

what of the men? the men were bred in england, the bowmen, the

yeomen, the lads of the dale and fell, here's to you and to you,

to the hearts that are true, and the land where the true hearts

dwell.

"they sing very joyfully," said du guesclin, "as though they were

going to a festival."

"it is their wont when there is work to be done."

"by saint paul!" quoth sir nigel, "it is in my mind that they

come too late, for i cannot see how we are to come down from this

tower."

"there they come, the hearts of gold!" cried aylward. "see, they

move out from the shadow, now they cross the meadow. they are on

the further side of the moat. hola camarades, hola! johnston,

eccles, cooke, harward, bligh! would ye see a fair lady and two

gallant knights done foully to death?"

"who is there?" shouted a