The gate was opened, and in filed a hundred and fifty stout men-at-arms, each with a bag of meal at his saddle-bow, a welcome sight to the famished garrison.
De Laconnet told in few words how he and his men, on their way to the town, had met an English raiding party a hundred strong, and, falling on them by surprise, had cut them off to a man. Assuming as a disguise the red crosses of their slain foes, and getting the pass-word from one of their number, who had stolen in among the English after dark to learn it, they had come safe through the besieging army with their precious burden.
“But where is he, then?” asked Sir Godefroi, keenly scanning the long file of riders as they passed.
De Laconnet replied in a whisper so low as to be barely audible; but it seemed to startle the other like a thunder-clap.
“Now, may God guard him!” cried De Kerimel, crossing himself, “for never was such peril dared by mortal man!”
In truth, great as were the dangers that this chosen band had braved, they were nothing to the terrific peril which their leader was then facing. For that leader was one who thought nothing done while anything remained to do; and, where others would have been content to bring food and help to the hard-pressed fortress, he aimed at nothing less than the destruction of the formidable engine before which it was about to fall.
Tall, gaunt, black, loomed against the star-lit sky (the golden spangles of which were just paling at the approach of dawn), the huge movable tower, so much dreaded by the defenders. At each corner of the platform on which it stood, the wary English leader had planted a sentinel; for he knew to his cost the daring of the besieged, and fully expected a desperate sally that night to attack the fatal engine.
But no sally came; and the four guards, drowsy with cold and watching, were yawning and rubbing their numbed hands, and doing their best to keep awake, when a hoof-tramp was heard, and up rode a single horseman, wearing the red cross of England.
“Hold, and give the word!” cried the foremost sentry, on the alert in a moment, while his comrade drew up to him, all ready for action.
“St. George for Guienne!” replied the new-comer at once. “Ye keep good watch, lads; but methinks there is little need of it now.”