This done, they arose from their knees, embraced each other, and hurried to their posts.
All preparations for the attack having apparently been completed, the leaders advanced to the head of their men and harangued them, though the distance was too great for the Englishmen to hear what was said. This done, one of the knights closed his visor, and the other tried to follow his example, but the calque, dented from the effects of a blow, refused to allow the visor to descend. A couple of squires sprang forward to aid their lord, and the group, standing well in front of the rest, made a tempting mark.
Redward was quick to act.
"Quickly, Dick; nine score paces, and no windage!"
Dick, a lusty yet experienced archer, had already notched his bow and fitted an arrow. Leaning slightly forward, and throwing all his weight into the act of drawing the six-foot bow, the man loosed the shaft. Even as it sped Buckland also let fly, and the defenders anxiously awaited the result of their comrades' skill.
The first arrow struck and shivered itself against the uplifted visor of the French knight; but Redward's fared better, for, hitting the mail-clad figure under the raised arm, it sank deeply into the leader's body. Amid a roar of execrations on the invaders' side, and a hearty English cheer on the part of the bowmen, the knight staggered and fell on his face. The two squires stood their ground bravely, and with difficulty raised the ponderous armour-clad body of their master and bore it to the rear.
"Here they come!" shouted the master-bowman. "See, they shoot! On your faces, men!"
Crouching down behind the friendly shelter of the stone walls, the eight defenders awaited the onslaught, Redward alone watching the advance through a loophole, his head protected by an iron cap, while he held a stout buckler over the aperture as an additional protection against the deadly hail of arrows and bolts.
Raymond, crouching close to his father, felt that the bitterness of death had passed; his terror had vanished, and he was as ready as the rest to strike a blow in self-defence, though against tremendous odds. The unfamiliar sound of the arrows striking the woodwork and quivering with an indescribable ping, or shattering themselves against the stonework, the invaders' war cry of "St. Denis," and the metallic clanging of the advancing men-at-arms were signs of an invisible enemy whom he was on the point of meeting in mortal combat, and when, after a seemingly long and weary wait, the hail of arrows slackened and he heard his father cry, "To arms!" he actually welcomed what might prove to be his death-summons.
At the word of command the defenders sprang to their feet, rushed to the loopholes, and fired as fast as they were able into the dense masses of the advancing enemy. At that short range neither leathern coat nor iron hauberk was proof against the deadly arrows, and man after man fell writhing on the ground, their fall serving to dismay their comrades and to cheer their antagonists.