All conversation was stopped by the on-coming foemen. The squire closed his visor, and crouching behind his shield, awaited the attack. Under cover of the archers the men-at-arms advanced. Though some fell before the darts of the besieged, the main body pressed steadily onward, till they reached the breach in the shattered masonry.

The impact of the two forces was terrific; men went down on both sides, and, as sword and lance were shattered, axes, mauls, and maces continued the deadly work. The air was rent with the clash of arms, the shouts of the combatants, and the groans of the dying; but the townsfolk held their own, and after an hour's desperate struggle the attacking party retired.

"'Tis hot work!" exclaimed Redward breathlessly, throwing down a heavy axe and removing his steel cap to cool his heated head. "Run and see if our comrades are yet in sight."

To gain the summit of the tower was the work of a moment, and to the squire's great delight he saw the English ships already within easy distance of the harbour, their sails bellying out before the favouring breeze, and the water churned by the lash of the oars.

"They come! They come!" he shouted joyously.

"And so doth the foe," replied Redward grimly. "Haste back to the breach, for, by St. George, 'tis touch-and-go with Hennebon!"

Again the attackers advanced, one knight, utterly regardless of his life, urging his horse towards the gap in the wall. Crouching, with lance in rest, the Frenchman spurred over the shattered stones, received yet recked not a hail of arrows, and rode furiously towards Raymond, who, sword in hand, awaited his approach.

It would have gone hardly with the young squire had it not been for the unevenness of the ground, for the horse stumbled over a loose stone, throwing its rider heavily on the ground.

In spite of the weight of his armour and the shock of his fall, the knight, a man of gigantic strength, rose to his feet, dropping his lance and wrenching his mace from the saddle-bow. As he did so Raymond struck him a heavy blow with his weapon, but the steel turned against the crest of his casque and was shattered close to the hilt.

In a moment the mace beat down the squire's shield and descended upon his head, and without a cry the squire dropped senseless to the ground.

But his fall was speedily avenged. Wielding his heavy axe, Redward sprang forward and smote at the Frenchman's helm. Realising his danger, the knight sprang aside; but, though avoiding a fatal blow, he did not escape, for the axe, glancing off the crest, caught the projecting visor. Unable to stand the strain, the leathern laces of his helmet burst, and the bascinet, though prevented by the camail from falling off, was turned back to front, so that the unfortunate wearer was unable to see through the openings of the visor.

Dazed by the blow and in total darkness, the Frenchman staggered blindly about, still striking feeble and aimless blows, till the defenders, with taunts and execrations, beat him to the ground and despatched him with their axes.

Meanwhile Redward bent over the prostrate form of his son, but ere he could ascertain whether the blow had been fatal the main attack had commenced. Gallantly the besieged met the shock; many fell on both sides, and for the s.p.a.ce of a quarter of an hour the issue hung in the balance.

At length, reinforced by a band of knights under Louis d'Espagne, the a.s.sailants bore back all before them. Barbenoire, fighting gallantly to the last, fell covered with wounds. Redward, standing over his son's body, kept back the press for a time, till, borne down by the weight of numbers, he was struck to the earth, but ere he lost consciousness he was dimly aware of the sound of English voices and the renewed clash of arms.

At the critical moment the long-expected aid had arrived!

Once more the tide of battle turned, and the followers of the House of Blois, unable to withstand the fierce onslaught of the English, fled panic-stricken before the reinforcements, the knights and mounted men-at-arms of Sir Walter Manny riding down all who came in their way.

When at length the victorious Manny returned from the pursuit, the Countess of Montfort came forth and warmly greeted him.

"Of a truth, fair sir," she exclaimed, as the warrior knelt and kissed her hand, "I cannot but liken you to the Archangel Michael sent from heaven in answer to our prayers!"

Meanwhile the inhabitants of the town were busy pillaging the camp of their enemies, bringing in additional food supplies and tending their own wounded--for those of their a.s.sailants who were left in their hands were mercilessly despatched, save where their rank made them likely subjects for ransom.

Redward and his son were found surrounded by the bodies of friend and foe, senseless but still breathing. The Countess had been apprised of the fall of her gallant messenger, and had ordered the young squire and his father to be carried into her own house within the castle.

Sir Walter Manny himself also came frequently to see how fared the forerunner of his arrival, and brought with him his own chirurgeon to attend the two.

For four days Raymond lay unconscious, till one morning his scattered senses returned, and he opened his eyes to find himself in a roomy apartment overlooking the town walls. Instead of the clash of arms the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing. Beside him were the Countess and a group of Englishmen of quality; a little distance off lay Redward on a soft couch, his gaze fixed intently upon his son.

Then the young squire realised that Hennebon was saved, and that his father was still with him; and with a sigh of contentment he fell into a deep and natural slumber.

The wounds of both Raymond and his father were severe, and a considerable time elapsed ere they were capable of moving about, while their complete recovery, in spite of the kindly climate of fair Brittany, was a tedious business. Thus they missed the remaining portion of the Brittany campaign, in which Robert of Artois captured Vannes, and was soon afterwards driven from that town by a surprise attack on the part of some Breton adherents of Charles of Blois.

Shortly after, the existing treaty between England and France was terminated, for during the struggle in Brittany a truce was nominally in force, the armies of England and France ostentatiously supporting the claim of the rival dukes; but on the expiration of the treaty war was openly resumed between the two great nations.

The King of England landed at Marbain with 12,000 men, and simultaneously laid siege to Vannes, Rennes, and Mantes, but the triple task was beyond his power, and under the influence of the Pope's legates he agreed to observe a truce for three years.

Immediately following this pacific arrangement King Edward re-embarked for his own dominions, and with the army went Raymond and Redward, the former despondent at the news of the truce, regarding it as being fatal to his cherished hopes of winning the golden spurs of knighthood.

CHAPTER XIV

RAYMOND'S ERRAND

NEARLY four years have elapsed since the young squire's mission to Hennebon. They have been years of comparatively uneventful waiting.

To him the dark clouds of unkind fate showed no signs of the silver lining of good fortune, for he fully realised that until he had risen above the rank of squire he dare not hope for the hand of the fair Lady Audrey Scarsdale.

Thus, there was nothing to do but wait patiently, under the orders of kindly Sir John Hacket, fervently hoping for the call to arms that would give him the opportunities of winning his spurs upon the soil of France.

The three years' truce had been ill-kept. Already the Earl of Derby had crossed into Guienne, but news, though scanty, was far from rea.s.suring, and daily the Constable of Portchester was awaiting the summons to a.s.semble his men and march to join the King's forces at Southampton.

One afternoon, in the month of May 1346, the watch on the keep of the castle perceived a man limping towards the gate. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and bronzed-faced, yet bent with physical infirmity, being compelled to use a rough crutch to aid his tottering footsteps.

"Ho, Watkin!" exclaimed one of the soldiers to a comrade. "Surely that looks like Long Edney, of Wickham, yet methinks I am mistaken."

"If't be, then, certes, he hath made a grievous error; for he went to Guienne, hoping to return speedily with much booty. This man hath pain to carry himself, let alone the plunder he hath not!"

"'Tis Edney, of a surety. See, he waves his hand to us!"

In a few moments the luckless man-at-arms was within the castle, surrounded by a crowd of rough sympathisers. Hearing the sound of voices, Sir John Hacket appeared, and, recognising the man as one who had left his service some time previously to join the forces under Lord Norwich, sent Raymond to lead Edney into his presence.

"'Tis a sad home-coming for thee," exclaimed the knight sympathetically. "Yet Heaven knows there are many such. The highways are thick with broken soldiers."

"Ay, Sir John," returned the man despondently. "A bolt through the thigh is a sorry return for my trouble, and not a silver penny's worth of spoil to show for it! Nevertheless, the saints helping me, I hope to adventure myself again in this matter."

"And with better luck," rejoined the Constable. "And, now tell me, how goes the war in Guienne?"

"Faith, it goeth against us in the main. Pembroke and Sir Walter Manny are shut up in Aiguillon, and when I left Bordeaux they had sent urgent appeals for succour. For my part I know but little of Aiguillon, being besieged with Lord Norwich in Angouleme."

"And how fared Norwich?"

"As crafty as ever."

"How so?"

"The Duke of Normandy pressed him sorely, so that the French looked likely to take the town by escalade. Thereupon Norwich beat a parley.

'How, now!' exclaimed the Duke. 'Dost wish to give in?' 'Nay,'

replied our leader, 'but as to-morrow is the Feast of the Virgin, to whom we both bear great devotion, I desire a cessation of strife for that day.' 'Right willingly,' replied the Duke, and Norwich, nigh bursting with badly-concealed merriment, descended from the walls.

That night he ordered us to prepare our baggage, and early next morning we marched out straight for the enemy's camp. The Frenchmen flew to arms, but Norwich, forbidding our men to draw, sent a knight to remind the Duke of his promise."

"And what did the Duke?"

"He kept his word. 'I see the sly fox has outwitted us, but let us be content with gaining the town,' he exclaimed; and right between the lines of astonished Frenchmen we marched, without losing as much as a single stick."