"But how the royal men-at-arms pour in! De Breauté is far outnumbered--his men fly--they fall back--they seek to gain the steps," gasped Aliva, looking over Beatrice's shoulder.
"Gallantly done, gallantly done! That little close band follows them hard up the steps. Well led, Sir Knight! (Hold my hand, prithee, lady, lest I fall out and break my neck! I must see.) But our men make a stand upon the steps; that is to gain time to close the door. The swords are at it now--I hear the ringing. Ah me! it is Sir William himself defends the steps. He raises his sword; he will smite that bold knight who leads them! He has smitten--By our Lady, 'twas a near thing! Who was that parried the stroke with his staff? I see! a man in monkish dress. And now the knight falls--he rolls down the steps--his armour is heavy--he strives in vain to rise, but alack, alack!"
"What seest thou? speak, Beatrice!"
"The poor brother, lady, he who saved the knight--he has fallen. Oh, he moves not! Alack, he is slain!"
"They are all falling back; what means it, Beatrice?"
"I cannot see, lady; the wooden porch over the steps hinders me. But the knight has risen--he is unhurt--he calls his men back."
"They retreat--they retreat?"
"Meseemeth Sir William and his men have shut to the door, lady," replied Beatrice, drawing in her head; and as the two girls stared blankly in each other's faces, the Lady Margaret, pallid and haggard, entered the apartment.
"Daughters," she exclaimed, "the king's men have won the inner bailey; the old tower is down; we now only hold the keep!"
That evening sore disappointment reigned in the camp of the besiegers. Had they but been able to reach the door ere it was closed, the keep would have been theirs; but as it was, they were compelled to draw off after considerable loss from the storm of arrows which rained upon them from the loopholes.