Edgar the Ready: A Tale of the Third Edward's Reign

by W. P. Shervill

Beneath the gateway the conflict was even more fierce and deadly. The instant the gates were down Edgar and Peter had sprung forward, followed by the best and strongest fighters among the peasantry. They were met by the most heavily armed of the men-at-arms among the garrison, and were opposed with fierce determination. The defenders knew only too well how their merciless cruelties had inflamed the countryside against them, and feared that if the castle were won their own chances of mercy were slight indeed. Thus they bent to their work with the fierce stubbornness born of despair.

Of De Maupas or De Brin Edgar could catch no glimpse, and though he called their names aloud as he fought, and challenged them to meet him hand to hand, there was no response. Concluding at last that they must be directing operations from the walls, our hero devoted all his energies to overcoming the resistance of the defenders at the gate and winning a way through to the courtyard. Once a footing could be obtained inside, the continued defence of the walls would be useless.

Inch by inch, foot by foot, Edgar and his band fought their way onward. Most of the execution was done by his own and Peter's sword, for the peasantry had neither the skill nor the weapons to oppose the men-at-arms with much success in a hand-to-hand combat. The front of the fighting beneath the gates was a narrow one, and the peasants could fight only man to man, and were unable to bring their superior numbers into play. In spite of this disadvantage, however, the defenders were driven back slowly and surely, until Edgar felt that the moment for the final effort had come.

"On, on! Strike home!" he cried loudly, and at the call his men gave a surge forward that gained a couple of yards and brought them almost through the gateway into the courtyard.

Suddenly a shrill whistle sounded, and, as though by a prearranged signal, the defenders disengaged themselves from the conflict and fled at the top of their speed down the courtyard and round an angle of the donjon.

With loud shouts of exultation, the peasants surged unchecked through the gateway and began to advance along the courtyard in pursuit of their beaten foes. Scarcely, however, had they taken a dozen steps when there came a terrible interruption. From the roof of the keep fell showers of molten lead! In streams and showers, burning, blinding, and scorching, the fearful liquid fell, and the shouts of joy were turned into screams of dreadful agony. With one thought but to escape the fearful hail, the men who had won their way with such dauntless courage into the courtyard turned and flung themselves madly back into the gateway, struggling and fighting with those still pouring in. Their flight was assisted by more showers of the metal, flung in burning streams upon those massed in the gateway, until, with one accord, the victorious body of peasantry turned tail in utter panic and fled headlong back across the moat to the cover of the woods.

At this moment the thunder of horses' hoofs was heard, and round the angle of the courtyard swept a body of armour-clad horsemen. Eustace de Brin, De Maupas, and wellnigh a dozen men-at-arms clad in full armour, in a line stretching from wall to wall, bore down upon the already fleeing men like a living wall of steel. Edgar and Peter alone, shoulder to shoulder, stood fast--not because their courage was more unquenchable than that of their followers, but because their mail had enabled them to endure the burning showers better. The charge of the horsemen swept them headlong against the walls of the keep.

Peter received a stunning blow upon the helmet, and, dizzy and sick, was forced to cling to the wall to save himself from falling. Wielding a battleaxe he had snatched from a stricken man-at-arms, Edgar beat off those who assailed him, and the horsemen, unable to stop their impetuous charge, swept heavily onwards past him. Some thundered through the gateway hot upon the track of the fleeing peasants, whilst others, after careering a dozen yards along the courtyard, checked their steeds and prepared to charge back again upon the only two of their enemies yet remaining on their feet within the four walls of the castle.

To Edgar all seemed lost. The peasants were in hopeless flight, and the way to safety through the castle gates was barred by the horsemen already spurring through. De Maupas was one of the horsemen who had refrained from following up the fleeing peasantry, and seeing the hopeless plight of the young esquire, he gave a cry of savage joy and shouted to his companions to spur down upon him and beat him into the dust.

To rush for the gateway, and to strive to escape that way, meant being caught in the rear by the charging horsemen. This was obvious, and, with the speed of thought, Edgar seized upon another opening so bold and desperate that it appeared the counsel of sheer despair.