The Constable hastened to the tent of Sir John Chandos to obtain the required boon, while Raymond sent for the two Normans whose lives he had spared. They were, so the squire ascertained, brothers, and one had been in the service of the Count of Eu, and knew the precise position of the Count of Tancarville's forest castle.
Soon Sir John returned, having succeeded in his mission. One of the prisoners was made to act as guide, and to avoid another blunder he was told that should the enterprise fail through his neglect or treachery his brother's life would be forfeit. Rations were served out to the company, and an hour later Sir John's command, consisting of three squires, thirty men-at-arms, and fifty mounted archers, moved out of camp amid the encouraging shouts of their comrades, and disappeared in the gathering gloom towards the dark masses of the Forest of Brique.
[CHAPTER XVII]
THE FALL OF THE COUNT'S STRONGHOLD
UNDER the guidance of the Norman, the company proceeded by a different route to that by which Raymond made his escape; and, as night fell, they dismounted and off-saddled in a clearing within half a league of the Count's stronghold.
Sentries were posted, and every precaution taken against surprise, but nothing untoward occurred to disturb the camp.
Day dawned, but a thick, fleecy mist prevailed, the moisture dripping from the steel caps of the soldiers, who, in spite of it being a summer's morn in fair Normandy, actually shivered with cold. No fires were allowed to be lighted for fear of giving warning of their approach, and after a hasty breakfast the company started on the last portion of the journey.
The way lay through a narrow avenue, similar to that in which Raymond's ill-fated men-at-arms met with disaster, and the Norman guide, anxious for his own and his brother's safety, used all his skill and cunning as a woodman to ensure a successful surprise.
Presently through the mist two gnarled trunks attracted his attention, and, halting, he beckoned to the Constable to dismount. In low tones he explained that he wanted a riderless horse to be driven in front of the company, and, the Constable assenting, one of the archers dismounted and urged his steed to the head of the column.
To Raymond, who knew the perils of the path, the act occasioned no surprise, but most of the soldiers watched the action with wonderment.
The horse had proceeded but a short distance when it stumbled over some invisible obstacle, and before it could recover itself, a heavy beam, furnished with a metal barb, came crashing down from the mist—hidden branches above, pinning the devoted animal to the earth.