Jerningham had chosen the latter course, but he was hindered by the rush of some of his own men, who had run around the table in order that the captain might be surrounded. Thus checked for an instant, and in some way made sensible of Ravenshaw's last movement, Jerningham turned back, and again engaged the captain. Ravenshaw was thus between two forces, one headed by Jerningham, the other by Sir Clement. He leaped upon the table, jumped to the floor on the other side, while half a dozen blades darted after him; dragged the table to a corner, and turned to face his enemies from the little triangular space behind it. Led by Ermsby, they rushed upon him, thinking to find the table of short use as a bulwark against such numbers.
But Jerningham stood back out of the rush, still holding Millicent by the hand, and shouted:
"Some keep him busy above the table; some thrust under at his legs. Let the knave die, 'tis good time! I'll look to the comfort of the lady." And he started again toward the right-hand passage.
Ravenshaw bent forward across the table, and swept aside the points of steel with sword and dagger; but they threatened him anew, and he heard men scrambling under the table to stab his legs; he saw, between two heads of his foes, Jerningham's movement toward the passage, and he shouted:
"Ho, rufflers, maunderers, upright men! a rescue! a rescue!"
Jerningham halted, somewhat wondering. The kitchen door flew open, and, with a hasty thumping of crutches, the beggars hobbled in, men and women, most of them with pewter cans, from which they had been regaling themselves. At sight of these maimed creatures, with their frowsy hair, their gaunt looks, the red blotches and bandages of some, the white eyeballs of others, Millicent started back in horror. As the door by which they came in was near the passage toward which Jerningham was leading her, and as they spread into a wide group in entering, they blocked the way of her departure.
"Stop the gentry cove!" cried Ravenshaw. "In the name of the salamon, stand by a brother!"
The captain's assailants had drawn away a little to see who the newcomers were. Having satisfied himself at a glance, Sir Clement Ermsby laughed, and said: "A rescue, sooth! A bunch of refuse,—rotten pieces of men. Come, back to your work!" And he renewed the attack on Ravenshaw; while Jerningham, calling out, "Ay, to him! these be helpless cripples," started again for the passage, his sword-point forward.
But with a wild whoop the beggars straightened out of their lame attitudes, swung their crutches and staves in the air, lost all regard of sores and patches, found arms for empty sleeves, showed keen eyes where white balls had plead for pity, threw off all the shams of their profession, and swept upon the captain's foes. A sturdy blow of a staff bore down Jerningham's rapier, a filching hook tore his dagger from his other hand. Iron-shod crutches and staves rained upon the heads of Sir Clement and the other men; hooks caught their clothing, and dragged some to the floor. When at close quarters, the beggars drew their knives; the women fought like men. Millicent, separated from Jerningham in the fray, ran shrieking in the one direction open to her; this was toward the corner at the right of the front door. Ravenshaw, dashing through the confusion, placed himself triumphantly at her side. She essayed to run from him; but he gently swept her with a powerful arm into the corner behind him.
"Oh, God, I am lost!" she cried, seeing Jerningham and his men brought to pause by the sturdy wielders of staff, crutch, and knife.