Meanwhile events were moving with equal rapidity above-ground. The charge of Sir Eustace and his men-at-arms across the filled-in moat had completely dispersed the last of the peasants still remaining in the open. The priest had done his best to rally his men and to resist the horsemen, but his followers were infected by the panic which had seized upon those who had been engaged in storming the gates, and would not stand. He himself was wounded and must have been slain had not several of the more courageous of his band seized him and dragged him into the woods by force.
Once in the thickets the peasants were safe, and, realizing the folly of pursuing them with so small a force as he had at his disposal, De Brin contented himself with leading his men against the peasants still working at the mangonels. These fled hastily at his approach, and his men promptly proceeded to heap faggots around the machines. A light was procured, and, amid the cheers of the men-at-arms, the flames shot up until the engines were in the midst of a huge bonfire.
At this moment De Maupas spurred rapidly from out the castle and sought De Brin. His vizor was raised, and on his face was a look of savage joy. "Ho, there, Eustace!" he cried. "Their leader, this Edgar Wintour, hath taken refuge in the donjon. Doubtless he hopeth to escape through the underground passage. Quick, close this end, and he will be snugly trapped!"
"Ha, ha!" laughed De Brin. "If 'tis so, then he hath saved us much trouble, and mayhap provided us with some rare sport. Do thou, De Maupas, remain here, and see that he receiveth a warm reception if he seeketh to emerge this end. I, for my part, will see that his hot blood runs chilly in his veins before we have done with him. Ha, ha! But first we must seal him up completely within the cavern."
With a look of cruel anticipation upon his face that might of itself have chilled Edgar's blood had he been there to see it, Black Eustace spurred back through the gates and took charge of the men already engaged in hewing down the door of the donjon. As soon as the door showed signs of weakening, he drew aside two of the men and sent them on an errand that took them outside the walls.
Here the men looked about them for some moments before seizing upon one of the big ladders constructed by the peasants. The uprights were thick and strong, and one of these was knocked away from the crosspieces and the end carefully pointed. For what purpose these preparations were made was not apparent, but, from the haste with which the men completed their work, it seemed that they had at least some connection with the plight of the two fugitives in the castle donjon.
De Maupas had for some moments gazed thoughtfully around him before he set about his part of the task of destroying the fugitives. His eyes fell upon the great bonfire which now marked the spot whence the mangonels had discharged their deadly missiles, and with a grim smile he directed the men about him to pick up some of the big bundles of brushwood that had been left over when the filling-in of the moat had been accomplished. Then he led the way to the tiny glade where the tree with the hollow trunk had stood when Edgar had escaped with Sir John a short time before. Pointing to a certain spot in the ground, he directed his men to fling down their bundles and scoop away the earth. A large flagstone was soon disclosed, and on its being lifted a black pit, down which led a flight of steep stone steps, yawned before them. Kneeling, De Maupas called:
"Bruyard! Ho, there! Bruyard!"
After a moment's pause, a muffled voice replied:
"Who calleth?"