Round and round he spun in his hazardous descent, till, with bleeding hands and a swimming sensation in his head, Raymond found himself on the ground. Instantly he unloosed the rope, darted quickly across the road and gained the outer gateway.
By this time the inner door had been wrenched open, and the three Genoese were holding a debate amongst themselves, gesticulating and talking volubly till it seemed as if a quarrel was likely to ensue. Finally two entered the house, the third keeping guard outside, possibly to prevent any fugitive from leaving, or to keep others of their comrades from sharing in what promised to be a rich haul.
Raymond saw and seized his chance. The man's back was turned towards him, yet—the raiders being mere pirates and deserving of no mercy—without hesitation, the youth drew string, and the next instant the soldier was lying on his face, his back pierced by an arrow.
Guided by the redoubled sound of shrieks, the lad sped across the ground, grasping his drawn sword in his hand, and ascended the stairs with quick yet noiseless footsteps.
At the head of the stairs lay the corpse of an old man, evidently a servitor, the blood welling in a crimson flood from a gaping wound in his throat. Without stopping, Raymond sprang over the body and burst into a room whence the shrieks came with terrifying shrillness.
There a sight met his gaze that transformed him into a terrible avenging spirit rather than a human being. On the floor lay an elderly lady, her eyes rolling in semi-stupor, while the two ruffians were maltreating a young and beautiful girl, whose age could not have been more than sixteen. In spite of her furious struggles and piercing cries the two Genoese were dragging her out of the room, and her strength was well-nigh exhausted.
With a loud shout of anger Raymond rushed upon the two men, who were totally unprepared for any onslaught while engaged in their work of cruelty and rapine. A strong sweeping blow with his sword and one of the villains fell lifeless to the ground, but, before the young archer could strike again, the second turned upon him, and in a moment both were struggling on the floor in a deadly embrace, the Genoese, a great lusty fellow, being uppermost. Raymond still retained his sword, though unable to shorten it, while his enemy strove to draw a dagger that he wore at his belt. Seeing this the lad dropped his sword and grasped the other's wrist, while, in turn, Raymond's arm was gripped to prevent him from drawing his own knife.
At length the weight of his foeman's body began to tell, and slowly the breath was forced out of the lad's lungs by the relentless pressure. Raymond thought that the end was near, his face was turning black, red lights flashed across his eyes, and, as in a dream, he saw the Genoese wrench his hand free from the retaining grasp and seize the hilt of his dagger.
"Flee!" gasped Raymond, glancing towards the maiden, and he had steeled himself to receive the expected coup de grace, suddenly he felt his enemy's body grow limp and a flood of hot blood rained upon his face.
Struggling to his feet, faint, dazed, and unable for the moment to realise that it was not his own life's blood, Raymond gazed vacantly upon the body of his foeman. Then, as his scattered senses began to return, the youth realised that his miraculous deliverance was due to the prompt action of the girl to whose aid he had flown; for seeing how matters were turning, and desperate for her own and her rescuer's safety, she had possessed herself of the dagger of the slain ruffian and had plunged it up to the hilt in the neck of the other.