There were no signs of the garrison, which, at the most, numbered less than two score men, but the possibility of a surprise was guarded against by the fact that the doorway of the barbican was closed.
For several hours the little English force lay in front of the stronghold, the soldiers prone on the grass, their leaders standing behind a dense thicket, so that no assailant was visible to the still unsuspecting inmates of the castle.
At length some of the archers who had remained with the horses joined the main body, dragging with them two peasants who were captured while on their way to the Count's fortress. The two men bore huge baskets full of bread on their backs, and the booty was distributed and eagerly devoured by the soldiers, while the peasants, securely bound, were detained a short distance in the forest under a guard of three archers.
Presently one of the men-at-arms approached Raymond. "I beg of thee, sir, to ask the Constable that he give me leave to force an entry into yonder fortress."
"How so, Peter? Wouldst essay the task alone?"
"Nay, Master Raymond, but with my comrade, Myles of Fareham, 'tis easy to attempt."
"And easier to fail? What wouldst thou do?"
"If we don the peasant's clothes and carry their baskets filled with stones on our backs, I trow 'twill be an easy business to fool those that are within. Once they open the gate two honest Englishmen can hold it against a score of Frenchmen till the main body hath time to come to our aid."
"By St. George! Thou sayest aright; I'll speak to Sir John at once."
The Constable received the project with delight, and preparations for the assault were instantly made. The two men-at-arms drew the gabardines of the peasants over their armour, so that they closely resembled the thick-set, shambling Normans, and shouldering their heavy baskets, they advanced boldly towards the outwork.