“Not him, sir,” said old Ben. “Let ’em batter. Them guns won’t be heavy enough to hurt the tower and walls more than to send chips of stone flying.”
“What about the drawbridge, Ben?”
“Oh, they can’t hurt that, sir, because you’ll give orders to lower that down and hoist the portculley.”
“Rather tempting for them to make a rush, Ben.”
“Tchah, sir! We shall be keeping a good watch, and up and down bridge and portcullis would be, long before they could get up to ’em. I s’pose, sir, you’ll make sure that old Jenks doesn’t go across to his gate-house.”
“Of course.”
“And I s’pose, sir, you’ll have the two big guns hoisted up on to the great tower now: we could easily dismount ’em and do that. They’ll be handier up there now, and very awkward for them as works the guns in their earthwork.”
“Yes, I shall order that to be done at once,” said Roy, with a comical look at his Mentor—one which Ben refused to see.
“And then, sir,” he continued, “there’s that there earthwork as’ll stop half the shot they send in through the gate-way, and send a lot of ’em flying right up over the towers.”
“What earthwork?”