"This is brave news thou art telling me, Sir Gervaise," cried Beatrice, whose serene bearing was in such contrast to the agitation of De Maupas that their situations appeared to have been reversed. "These peasants will not make war upon the tyrant's prisoners. They will accept as friends the victims of their oppressor."
"Think not so, lady," cried De Maupas vehemently. "Thou know'st not this rabble. They hate those of gentle blood with so deadly a hatred that all inside these walls who are not of themselves they will destroy. Sir John and Edgar Wintour will perish beneath the burning ruins, if they have not been dragged out of their cells and slain before the work of the torch begins."
For a moment Beatrice covered her face with her hands, as though the thought appalled her. Then she answered bravely:
"I prefer the mercies of the revolted peasantry to thine, Sir Gervaise. As for Sir John and his esquire, I refuse to believe that the rage of the peasants will extend even to the poor creatures buried alive in the castle dungeons. Besides----"
Beatrice stopped suddenly, for loud insistent shouts for De Maupas rang within the donjon and outside in the castle courtyard.
"'Tis De Brin calling me," cried De Maupas savagely, as he rushed hastily to the door. "Think not that thou wilt escape me," he added vengefully over his shoulder as he left the chamber. "If the worst comes to the worst I will bear thee hence by force."
A cry from Jeannette, who had gone to the window while her mistress had been parleying with De Maupas, brought back Beatrice's attention to the conflict being waged outside.
"The gates are down, Mistress Beatrice!" the maid cried in a voice shrill with excitement. "See, the defenders are gathering thickly in the breach."
Beatrice craned her neck to see, just in time to catch the first glimpse of the great rush of the peasantry which followed closely upon the battering-in of the gates. A confused medley of fiercely-fighting men was all she could make out for some minutes, but presently, as the defenders were driven back inch by inch towards the courtyard, two figures began to stand out from the press, and she recognized with a thrill of astonishment and joy--Edgar Wintour and his servant, Peter! De Maupas had lied--and they were alive and free! Then might not Sir John also----?
The fight at the gates was growing in intensity, and all her thoughts became concentrated on the exciting scene. Would they win a way through? Beatrice was a knight's daughter and could gauge a warrior's powers at a glance. She could see that the real strength of the attack lay in Edgar and Peter alone, and that the ill-armed peasantry, brave though they were, could make little impression on the mail-clad and well-disciplined men-at-arms.