As the drawbridge fell, two score willing hands raised the heavy battering-ram, and recking not the shower of stones that rattled harmlessly on their headpieces, the men-at-arms attacked the iron-bound oaken door.
At the third blow the massive timber was burst asunder, and with shouts of triumph the men-at-arms swarmed into the castle, to find it deserted save by half-a-dozen trembling serving women incongruously wearing steel headpieces, two decrepit men-servants, and the Lady Aimée d'Aulx!
"Thou hast conquered, sir," exclaimed the girl haughtily. "Accept my congratulations on thy feat of arms—this victory over a handful of helpless women-folk."
"Nay, fair lady," replied Geoffrey, advancing with raised visor. "We do not make war upon women. Rest assured, therefore, that neither thou nor thine will suffer harm."
"Then why art thou here?"
"To carry out the orders of my royal master. Further——"
"The saints preserve me!" exclaimed the damsel. "Of a surety I have seen thee before? Ay, 'tis the youth that befriended us at the Dos d'Ane."
"Shrewdly guessed, fair lady. I am in truth Geoffrey Lysle, squire to Sir Thomas Carberry, and son of Sir Oliver Lysle, whom thy father holds captive in this castle, and whom it is my desire to set at liberty."
"Tell me, young sir," asked the girl eagerly. "Thou didst say that our arms have suffered a reverse? Canst say aught concerning my father, Sir Raoul?"
"He is safe, though hurt; a prisoner. More, he is my prisoner."