"Aye--yet as Darby is not within, there will be no escape by it."

With banners to the fore, they marched across the open s.p.a.ce to the barbican and the herald blew the parley.

No answer came from the outwork. Riding closer, De Lacy discovered it was without defenders, and pa.s.sing through he halted on the edge of the causeway.

"Sound again!" he commanded--and this time with quick effect.

A trumpet answered hoa.r.s.ely from within and a mailed form arose from behind the crenellated parapet near the gate.

"Who summons so peremptorily the Castle of the Lords of Darby?" it asked.

Sir John's herald blew another blast.

"It is a most ignorant warder that does not recognize the arms of Sir John de Bury and Sir Aymer de Lacy," he answered.

"What seek Sir John de Bury and Sir Aymer de Lacy at the Castle of Roxford?" was the demand.

De Lacy waved the herald aside. "We seek the Countess of Clare who, we have reason to believe, is held in durance here. In the name of the King, we require you to surrender her forthwith."

"And if she be not here?"

"Then after due search, we will leave you undisturbed," the Knight replied.

The other laughed tauntingly.

"You must needs have wings, fair sirs, to gain entrance here;" and with a scornful gesture he disappeared below the parapet, and the blast of a trumpet signified that the truce was ended.

De Lacy closed his visor, and for a time surveyed the fortress with careful eye. Before him lay a moat full sixty feet across and two thirds full of water, with no means of pa.s.sage save the drawbridge, that hung so high on its chains as to seem almost against the outer portcullis. From the farther edge the wall rose solid and grim, and, as he knew from Sir John, with no opening in all its circuit save the gate directly opposite.

"It is evident the garrison is very small," De Bury observed, "else they would not have abandoned the barbican without a blow."

"Undoubtedly; and if we can reach the gate or scale the wall the rest is easy."

"I would we had a bombard or two that are lying idle in the armory at Pontefract."

"They will not be needed," De Lacy answered. "We shall sleep in the castle to-night."

Sir John smiled. "Have you found the wings the warder recommended?"

"We shall not require them; the gate is easier entrance than over the walls--besides being the way naturally intended. This is not the first time I have forced such a castle and won it by sundown. . . Giles, we will try the flagons; let the ropes be made ready, and bid the archers stand to their bows."

Sir John was regarding De Lacy with vexed surprise.

"Flagons!" he broke out. "Do you think to win the castle by pouring wine on the waters of the moat?"

Aymer laughed. "It is a trick I learned among the Italians, though they use hollow iron b.a.l.l.s. There were none such at Pontefract, so I subst.i.tuted flagons; they are filled with powder, the mouth plugged shut save for the fuse, and the whole is wrapped in a bag, also filled with powder."

"How in the name of St. Luke do you expect to use them?"

"Come," said De Lacy, and led the way to the edge of the moat.

The squire was there uncoiling a long, stout rope with a broad iron ball at one end. Fastening the other end to a projection in the barbican, he whirled the weighted one around his head, then suddenly let it fly. Like a bird it soared over the moat, and crossing back of the right lift-chain swung far down near the water. With a wide grappling hook he caught it above the ball, and drawing it in tied the two ends together, forming a great loop around the chain where it was fastened to the bridge.

Hitherto there had been no opposition from the castle; but now there was a change.

As Dauvrey whirled another weighted rope behind the left draw-chain, an arrow whistled from the wall and rapped him hard upon the hauberk near the gorget, piercing the outer mail, but being stayed by the inner shirt of Italian steel. The next instant the shafts came thick and furious, marking De Bury and De Lacy and the squire at every joint and seam of their harness, but without effect.

"By St. Denis, I fancy not those bolts," exclaimed De Lacy, as a quarrel from an arbalest glanced along his helmet near the eye hole.

"It came from the left gate tower, methought."

"From the far window," said De Bury.

"Fetch me a bow," De Lacy ordered Royk.

Drawing off his right gauntlet he notched the shaft and waited.

Presently a head rose cautiously in the window and the cross-bow was laid upon the ledge. Instantly De Lacy's fingers touched his cheek, the string tw.a.n.ged sweetly, and the arrow flashed across and deep into the brain of the arbalestier.

The cry he gave as death gripped him was answered by the splash of his weapon as it sank into the waters of the moat.

"Bravo! my lord!" Raynor exclaimed. "You are a sight for old eyes."

"It was a lucky shot," the Knight replied, handing back the stave.

Meanwhile Dauvrey, minding the arrows rained upon him no more than so many feathers, had caught the last rope, and so both lift-chains were encircled by a running loop. In a trice a flagon was fastened to a strand of each and drawn quickly over until it rested close against the bridge. All this time the ropes were kept swinging irregularly to prevent them being cut by arrows from the walls; though the defenders had ignored them entirely, thinking, doubtless, they were to be used for crossing and being quite content; for then their a.s.sailants' armor must come off and they be easy marks.

But when the bags went over they scented danger, and the darts began to hiss about the ropes. And the gate was flung back and the bridge lowered a trifle, and up it two men worked their way toward the chains.

They were protected by the flooring from the fire of those at the barbican, but Dauvrey, foreseeing just such a move, had stationed archers on each side to meet it; and ere the two had reached the middle of the span they were pierced by half a score of arrows and rolled back into the gateway.

"Now!" cried De Lacy. "Up with them"--and seizing the rope nearest him he gave it a quick twist that flung the bag upon the bridge and against the chain; and Dauvrey did the same with the other.

At the command two archers had sprung forward with lifted bows and barbs wrapped with burning tow and oil.

"Shoot!" Sir Aymer ordered; and straight into each bag a blazing arrow sped.

Then came a sullen roar--a burst of silvery smoke--a rush of flying bits of iron and splinters; and as those before the barbican leaped back at the Knight's warning cry, the drawbridge crashed down upon the causeway, its lift-chains torn clean away.

Instantly De Lacy dashed forward with waving axe; and beside him went Sir John de Bury, and at his shoulder were Dauvrey and Old Raynor Royk.

And they were none too quick; for already those at the entrance were trying to remove the planks that formed the flooring. But with a cry of "Clare! Clare!" Aymer and the others were upon them and they fled within the walls, swinging the gate shut just as the two Knights flung themselves against it.

"Keep an eye upward lest they loose a turret and destroy the bridge,"

De Lacy shouted, and fell to work on the gate with his heavy axe, while Dauvrey made haste to prevent the dropping of the portcullis by driving a spike into the grooves in which it worked.

But the gate was made of heavy, seasoned oak, studded thick with iron and bound deep around the edges with well-wrought steel. And though De Lacy's blows thundered upon it until it swayed and rattled on its ma.s.sive hinges, yet it still stood staunch and firm. Presently he paused, and Giles Dauvrey sprang forward to take his place. But he stayed him.

"It is too strong to waste good time and strength upon," he said. "We must use the powder again."

Twice the flagons spoke without material result; but the third tore the gate from its fastenings, and even before the smoke had risen Sir Aymer de Lacy and Sir John de Bury hurled it back upon its hinges and dashed through--to be brought up short by two men in complete armor, who attacked them furiously.

In the narrow pa.s.sage, with the walls close on either side and the roof low over head, the fighting was hampered and awkward. De Lacy and De Bury were in each other's way and neither could swing a heavy blow; yet they pressed forward, sword and axe drawing fire as they rasped each other or sc.r.a.ped against the rough stones of the arch.