XII
Hanotin’s men had already broken down the gate when Bertrand came galloping through the aspen wood. He had halted but a moment to cut down the two fellows who had been left to guard the horses, and who had drawn their swords on him and tried to give the alarm to their comrades on the causeway. Thanks to the din his own men were making, Hanotin had no warning of the rescue that was at hand.
Tiphaïne, who had climbed the tower with Jehanot when Hanotin’s horn had blown the first challenge, stood looking down in a species of stupor through the machicolations of the battlements at the mob of men struggling through the wreck of the twice-broken gate. They had forced up the portcullis, and were shouting with savage triumph, their shouts coming up to Tiphaïne like the snarling of wild beasts. She could see their bassinets and shoulder-plates and their thrust-out heels as they struggled to be first in through the entry.
The last men were still in view when she saw one of them clap his hand to the back of his neck, turn, and stare in astonishment across the moat. Tiphaïne, vividly receptive of all details in her dull terror, noticed a red patch of blood between the rim of the man’s steel cap and the edge of his gorget. He had been hit in the neck by a cross-bow bolt, and was shouting and gesticulating, calling back his comrades, who were crowding through the gate.
Tiphaïne was startled by a cry from old Jehanot. He was hopping from foot to foot, brandishing his cross-bow, his eyes shining out curiously above the bandage over his mouth and chin.
“Look! look!”
Tiphaïne followed the pointing of his hand, and understood whence the cross-bow bolt had flown. Through the aspen wood, with its last yellow leaves flickering in the sunlight, came Bertrand’s men, pressing forward on foot behind their captain, whose sword flashed as he cantered down on his great black horse. They came on in good order with their shields up, spears bristling, steady and silent.
Tiphaïne recognized the blue surcoat.
“It is Bertrand!” she said—“Bertrand du Guesclin!”
Jehanot was waving his cross-bow above his head.