With a sickening feeling of horror Raymond gazed into the pit, where lay the mangled remains of two of his men-at-arms, though it was evident that the plunderer had already been there, as the corpses were stripped of their arms and accoutrements, while the trappings of the horses had vanished.
Under the fallen trunk lay the body of the third soldier, plundered also as far as the ponderous timber would allow, while of the fourth no trace remained but a dark stain on the clayey soil.
Clambering over the last obstacle, the squire found himself on the steep path that had been so dangerous a road but a short fortnight before. On and on he hastened, till he emerged on the high road that led to the camp, which he estimated to be about four and a half leagues distant, provided a general advance had not taken place in the meantime.
He was hatless and without his surcoat, having left that garment with his late jailer, and there were no distinguishing marks to show that he belonged either to the army of the King of England or of Philip of France.
Tying his blood-stained scarf over his chin, he strode boldly forward, trusting in the rôle of a wounded soldier to avoid being questioned. At length he gained the summit of a hill, from which he looked down upon a lovely fertile valley, and in the distance the blue waters of the English Channel.
A spur of rising ground hid the view on his right, but a few minutes sufficed to gain its crest, and on looking down he saw a sight that filled him with joy, for below lay a large unwalled town, which he rightly guessed to be Caen, while a league off was the English host in battle array, and between him and the army was a motley array of Frenchmen issuing from the town to join battle with the invaders.
[CHAPTER XVI]
THE TABLES TURNED
ONLY one thing could Raymond do. He sat down on the grassy hillock and watched, knowing well that the fight could but end in one way.
A little group of Norman knights led the van of the French, whose forces were composed mostly of townsmen, desperate in their vain attempt to save their town from pillage. Eagerly the keen eyes of the squire followed their disorderly advance, till they were almost lost to view in the distance.
To him it seemed as if the white-coated lines of English archers stirred neither hand nor foot, but he knew full well that the blast of deadly arrows had sped, for as if by magic the dark masses of the Frenchmen broke and fled, without coming to hand-grips. Already the English cavalry were in hot pursuit, and the white winding road leading to the town was outlined with clouds of dust, which almost concealed the disorderly remnants of the defeated fugitives.