“And will they attack this evening?”
“No, my lady; they don’t come to attack strongholds with mounted men. They’re coming to call upon us to throw open the gates and surrender the place; and this is the answer, I think, my lady, is it not?” and he pointed to the flag.
“Yes, Martlet,” said Lady Royland, flushing; “that is our answer to such an insolent demand.”
She turned and left the tower, attended by Master Pawson, and Roy remained there watching the long line of mounted men approaching with their arms glittering in the light. “Seven or eight hundred,” he said, half aloud, “against thirty-six.”
“Haven’t counted the guns, Master Roy, nor the moat, nor the towers, nor all the other strong things we have. Pah! what’s a regiment of horse against a place like this? But they know, and they’re only coming to bully us, sir.”
“I hope you are right, Ben,” said the lad, seriously; and he waited for the approach of the men till they were halted about a couple of hundred yards away from the tower on which he stood, forming up in squadrons; and after a time an officer, bearing a little white flag, advanced, followed at a short distance by a couple of troopers. Roy’s heart beat fast, for he felt that a crucial time had come.
“You’ll have to go down, Master Roy; and we must lower the bridge for you to go out and meet him and hear what he has to say.”
“Must I, Ben?”
“Of course, sir; and, if you give the order, the corporal and I will come behind you as your guard.”
“And suppose, when the bridge is down, the others make a rush?”