"Out upon thy white beard, chancellor!" said the young king, laughing; "what mean you to say?"
"That, like a fair court lady, this castle of Thrave may have a weak point too."
"But, unless we attempt an escalade, the capture of the place is impossible by battering," said the general of the ordnance.
"Impossible!" reiterated the young king, his face and eyes glowing together, while the red spot on his cheek assumed a deeper hue.
"Pardon me, your highness," said Sir John Romanno; "but I humbly think so."
"Think; but you said impossible."
"Under favour, yes."
"There is no such word in a soldier's vocabulary," replied the spirited monarch; "and while our hearts beat under our breastplates there is hope."
"But the idea of an escalade," said Gray, "with the Dee to cross, and a wall to mount, exposed to a fire of cannon and arqubuses à croc, with long bows and arblasts to boot, and thereafter mauls, lances, and two-handed swords in the mêlée, is not to be thought of—at least until, by dint of cannon, we effect a breach."
"A breach!" exclaimed Sir John Romanno; "by my forefathers' bones ye are little likely to see that, sirs, when the shot of our heaviest culverins, even those of the Lion, our chief bombarde, rebound like silken balls from the stone rampart, and our cannoniers seem no better than court-ladies at palm play."