CHAPTER XXXIIIA SORTIE FROM THE CASTLE
Asevening came on these speculations grew more grave. It was not pleasant to think of spending the night in the open meadow. And we were very hungry. There was also our captive to consider. Ease his bonds as we might, and render to him all the consideration that was within our power, he was yet in sore case.
Towards sundown, while we were still wondering in what sort we could bear the rigours to which we were like to be exposed, a furious clamour was heard proceeding from the direction of the castle. Far and away the meadows had suddenly begun to echo with the beating of drums and the call to arms. We came out of our hiding-place, and going forth into the open fields, were able to discern that the drawbridge of the castle had been lowered and that a body of mounted soldiers from the garrison was making a foray.
The purport of this was so plain to us that we could have cast our hats into the air for joy. It was clear that the English giant had found his way within those four walls, and now by a bold raid was about to bring us and our prize also within them.
Even as we stood at gaze, we thought we could detect far away through the mists of the evening the plumed bonnets of madam’s defenders. Close by usstraggling companies of the King’s soldiery, unconnected twos and threes, were running in no sort of order towards the lower bridge. This was but carelessly held by the arms of Castile, and now that an assault was to be delivered upon it, it was little likely to be repelled. Our enemies, having lost their King, seemed to lack discipline and leadership; and we did not doubt that the bold and masterful Sir Richard Pendragon, swollen with great achievement as he was, and a most cunning and accomplished warrior, would prevail in his design.
Such proved to be the case. We had not long to abide the issue. The oncoming darkness had not time to envelop us ere the meadows began to shake under a mighty thunder of hoofs; and Sir Richard Pendragon, mounted upon a splendid war-horse, the choicest in the stable of our mistress, and accompanied by a body of horsemen riding in admirable close order, came straight for our little clump of alder trees.
“A Pendragon! A Pendragon!” arose the great baying voice of our formidable captain. His bare sword, seeking occupation, cut at the tall grasses as he rode through them.
“Where are you, you good souls?” he cried as he drew rein before the place in which we held the King.
He needed not to call again, for the Count of Nullepart and I came out at once, carrying our royal prize, which, for the reason that it was habited in a night-gown only, was still covered by the bag. Two led horses had been brought for our use; and Sir Richard Pendragon had the captive lifted on to the front of his own saddle. The chief part of the design being thenaccomplished, the whole company galloped back to the bridge, which was no longer held by the arms of Castile. Our enemies had been beaten off with some loss by this sudden and totally unexpected foray.
No sooner had we crossed this bridge and had come again into safety, with the upper path leading to the drawbridge lying before us free of all our foes, than our formidable leader declared that not the capture of the King alone would content him. He had the royal prisoner transferred from his own saddle to that of the Count of Nullepart; and then he bade us both take the captive behind the walls of the castle into security, whilst he with a following of two hundred horsemen would proceed to inflict a further stroke upon the disorganized army in the plain below.
The Count of Nullepart and myself were loth to assent to this proposal. For our blood being roused by this martial brilliancy, we also could have wished to go forward upon this enterprise. Yet it is the business of a soldier to obey his commander, and Sir Richard Pendragon had come to stand towards us in that relation. Besides, it was necessary that responsible persons should hold the custody of the royal captive.
Regretfully, therefore, we continued along the upper path with our great prize. And Sir Richard Pendragon riding down the hill, we could hear him marshalling with voice and with trumpet the two hundred horsemen that were gathered about the lower bridge to await his commands. And the last thing we heard of him as we took a turn in the path was an admonishment of these troopers in his mighty voice upon their discipline. With hisown right hand he threatened to cut down each mother’s son that dared to forsake his duty for private rapine.
“By my soul,” said the Count of Nullepart, laughing softly, “I believe that mad English fellow is the first captain of the age.”