"Where is the boy, woman?" belched the Norman, and struck at her with his knotted fists.
"Oh, mercy!" screamed she; "his mother, Lady Ide, took him to the chapel."
"After me, men!" blazed Richard; and he ran towards a rude stairway leading to a chamber below.
Musa caught his arm. "My brother!" he cried in his ear, "you are beside yourself! This is no work for a cavalier. Your grandfather is avenged. Call off the men!"
"By the Splendor of God!" flashed forth Longsword, "not even you shall stop me now!" He thrust back Musa with one sweep of his arm, and flew down the stairway, twenty blades at his heels.
Above, raged the roar of conflict: the moans, cries, agony, battle-shouts, all blending in one hideous, echoing storm. For a moment after the red glare of the hall, Richard blinked in the dark; then in the lower chamber he saw an altar, and four tall candles burning upon it; and around the altar clung white-clad figures, moaning and praying in one breath.
Straight across the little chapel sped Richard; and as he did so he saw amongst the women two men, one tall and in armor, with a sword at his side; the other a youth, with a fair girl's face and curling golden hair. As he strode, one of the women rose and stood before him; very queenly she was in her flowing gray hair, and her brave sweet face; for she was Ide of the Swan's Neck, once the fairest lady in all Auvergne.
"As you hope in God—" began she. But as she spoke the man in armor sprang from the altar, sword in hand.
"Ha! John of the Iron Arm!" laughed De Carnac at Richard's side.
"By the Cross!" cried the Valmonter, "you shall not take me here like a cornered rat!"