As they quitted the walls, however, and got embarrassed in the streets of the town, the Norman soldiers were every moment thrown into more and more confusion, by the various parties of the burghers who had abandoned the walls, and were flying towards the castle for shelter. Several knights also, and men-at-arms, were seen retreating up the high streets, from the gate which had been attacked by Savary de Maulèon; just at the moment that De Coucy, rushing on into the market-place, caught his standard from the hands of Hugo de Barre, and struck it into the midst of the great fountain of the town.
The flight of the knights showed sufficiently to lord Salisbury, that the gate which they had been placed to defend had been forced also; and his sole care became now to get his men as speedily and as safely within the walls of the castle as possible. This was not so difficult to do; for though De Coucy and Arthur still hung upon his rear with the men-at-arms, and a part of the Brabançois, a great majority of the latter, giving way to their natural inclination, dispersed to pursue their ancient avocation of plundering.
A scene of no small horror presented itself at the gates of the castle. Multitudes of the burghers, with their women and children, had crowded thither for safety; but Eleanor, with the most pitiless cruelty, ordered the garrison to drive them back with arrows, and not to suffer one to enter on pain of death. Their outstretched hands, their heart-rending cries, were all in vain; the queen was inexorable; and more than one had been wounded with the arrows, who had dared to approach the barbican.
When Salisbury and his band came near, however, the multitude, driven to despair by seeing the pursuers following fiercely on his track, made an universal rush to enter along with him; and it was only by using their swords against the townsmen, and even the women, that the soldiers could clear themselves a passage.
Salisbury was of course the last who passed himself; and as he turned to enter, while his soldiers formed again within the barbican, two women, of the highest class of the townspeople, clung to his knees, entreating him by all that may move man's heart, to let them follow within the walls.
"I cannot!--I must not!" exclaimed he harshly; but then, turning once more, he shouted to De Coucy, who, seeing that farther pursuit was vain, now followed more slowly.
"Sire De Coucy!" he exclaimed, as if he had been speaking to his dearest friend. "If you love me, protect this helpless crowd as much as may be. For old friendship's sake, I pray thee!"
"I will, Salisbury!--I will!" replied De Coucy,--"beau sire Arthur, have I your permission?"
"Do what thou wilt, dear friend and noble knight," replied the prince. "Is there anything you could ask me now, that I would not grant?"
"Stand back then, ho!" cried the knight, waving his hand to the Brabançois, who were pressing forward towards the trembling crowd of burghers "Stand back! Who passes that mark is my foe!" and he cast his gauntlet on the ground in the front of the line.