Their respite, however, was short, for, joined by another body of men from the galleys, the invaders again advanced, this time led by another knight, a short, broad-shouldered man, cased, like his unfortunate predecessor, in plate armour, over which he wore a yellow surcoat charged with the arms of the Spinola family.
"Ah! A rascally Genoese!" exclaimed Redward as he saw the device. "Now we must look to ourselves, for these Genoese combine the skill of the French and the roguery and treachery of the Spaniards; moreover, they have rendered a good account of themselves both by land and sea in their wars with the State of Venice."
Halting at a safe distance, the crossbowmen, protected by mantlets, faced the side of the house where the last attack had been made; a body of men-at-arms deployed and took up a position on each of the two adjacent sides; while a strong detachment of routiers, or lightly-armed men, worked round to the rear, the house thus being entirely surrounded.
Once again the hail of bolts began, and under the cover of this heavy discharge the men-at-arms gained the walls without the slaughter that marked their previous attempt.
With their axes they commenced a violent onslaught on the door, while the defenders were almost without the means of replying, firing only through the loopholes whenever a head appeared or a chance missile was thrown into the room.
At length, emboldened by the slight resistance, one of the men-at-arms was hoisted on the shoulders of two of his comrades, whence he climbed upon the roof. Here he began to vigorously attack the thatch for the purpose of annoying the besieged and diverting their attempts to hold the door.
Alarmed by the noise overhead, Raymond took his despised crossbow, and firing haphazard, sent a bolt through the roof. There was a loud cry, and with a mass of thatch and broken rafters the body of the soldier came crashing down, his chest transfixed by the thick, heavy bolt.
Immediately Redward was hoisted up to the gaping hole, and, regardless of the danger of being picked off by an arrow, he hurled a small sack of quicklime upon the men who were battering at the door.
Blinded by the powerful chemical they gave way, and ran screeching with agony, their leader circling round in an aimless manner, striving the while to tear off his bascinet and clear his eyes from the dust that was slowly and surely depriving him of sight.
Once more the English took heart at the repulse, taunting their enemies as they fell back. Again they had a short respite, though the inaction told more on their wearied bodies than the excitement of the fight.