“Not so,” answered the Saxon. “Lead I cannot, but my posterity curse me in my grave if I follow not with the foremost wherever thou shalt point the way!”
“Yet, bethink thee, noble Saxon,” said the knight, “thou hast neither hauberk nor corslet, nor aught but that light helmet, [v]target, and sword.”
“The better,” replied Cedric; “I shall be the lighter to climb these walls. And—forgive the boast, sir knight—thou shalt this day see the naked breast of a Saxon as boldly presented to the battle as ever you beheld the steel corslet of a Norman warrior.”
“In the name of God, then,” said the knight, “fling open the door and launch the floating bridge!”
The portal which led from the inner wall of the barbican, now held by the besiegers, to the moat and corresponded with a sally-port in the main wall of the castle was suddenly opened. The temporary bridge was immediately thrust forward and extended its length between the castle and outwork, forming a slippery and precarious passage for two men abreast to cross the moat. Well aware of the importance of taking the foe by surprise, the Black Knight, closely followed by Cedric, threw himself upon the bridge and reached the opposite shore. Here he began to thunder with his ax on the gate of the castle, protected in part from the shot and stones cast by the defenders by the ruins of the former drawbridge, which the Templar had demolished in his retreat from the barbican, leaving the [v]counterpoise still attached to the upper part of the portal. The followers of the knight had no such shelter; two were instantly shot with cross-bow bolts, and two more fell into the moat. The others retreated back into the barbican.
The situation of Cedric and the Black Knight was now truly dangerous and would have been still more so but for the constancy of the archers in the barbican, who ceased not to shower their arrows on the battlements, distracting the attention of those by whom they were manned and thus affording a respite to their two chiefs from the storm of missiles, which must otherwise have overwhelmed them. But their situation was eminently perilous, and was becoming more so with every moment.
“Shame on ye all!” cried De Bracy to the soldiers around him; “do ye call yourselves cross-bowmen and let these two dogs keep their station under the walls of the castle? Heave over the coping stones from the battlement, an better may not be. Get pick-ax and levers and down with that huge pinnacle!” pointing to a heavy piece of stone-carved work that projected from the parapet.
At this moment Locksley whipped up the courage of his men.
“Saint George for England!” he cried. “To the charge, bold yeomen! Why leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric to storm the pass alone? Make in, yeomen! The castle is taken. Think of honor; think of spoil. One effort and the place is ours.”