"What! Too tired to take thy food?" roared the rogue. "Nay, that will not serve. See, here is a tempting morsel."
A sudden inspiration came to Geoffrey. The man had thrust his arm betwixt the bars in order to still further tantalize the famished lads. With a swift and surprising spring Geoffrey threw himself at the door and grasped the fellow's arm by the wrist.
"Quick, Oswald!" he exclaimed.
Oswald had mistaken his comrade's intention, for without attempting to seize the food that was still grasped in the man's hand, he thrust his hand between the grille and laid hold of the soldier's dagger.
The next instant the man had fallen a corpse upon the floor, with his own dagger plunged into the nape of his neck, Geoffrey still retaining his hold of the soldier's wrist.
"One villain the less," exclaimed Oswald triumphantly.
Fortunately, a deafening peal of thunder had drowned the scream of the stricken man. This storm was proving a blessing in disguise to the two desperate youths, for the remnant of the garrison, driven from their posts by the tempest, had already taken shelter.
"I see a way," whispered Geoffrey earnestly. "Here, take yon dagger and strip off the fellow's breastplate."
Without stopping to question his companion Oswald did as he was told, Geoffrey the while holding the wrist of the corpse to prevent it from falling below the grille. A few minutes sufficed to ease the man-at-arms of his steel plate and cap, and, retaining the dagger, the lads ran to the edge of the moat.
"Now dost see, Oswald? I am going to leap upon these spikes holding the breastplate in front of me to turn the points aside. Should I, with the blessing of Heaven and the protection of my patron saint, succeed in my attempt, 'twill be an easy matter to clear aside a space for thee to leap."