Leroux himself appeared and repeated the order.
“Art sure of what you say, Master Guy?” he asked.
“Look from the window and you will see them approaching,” Guy replied, and going to the casement window which was at the front of the house he threw it open. Some four hundred yards away a dense throng was coming along; a score of torches lighted up the scene.
“Resistance is vain,” the silversmith said. “It is my life they seek; I will go down to them.”
“Resistance will not be in vain,” Guy said firmly. “I have already sent for aid, and we shall have a body of Burgundian men-at-arms here to our assistance before long. Your life will not satisfy them; it is the plunder of your shop and house that they long for, and you may be sure that they will put all to the sword if they once break in. Now let us run down and see what we can do to strengthen our defences.”
“The shutters and doors are all strong,” the provost said as they hurried downstairs, followed by the four men-at-arms and the servants—for in those days men removed but few of their garments as they lay down on their rough pallets.
“In the first place,” Guy said, “we must pile everything that we can find below against these doors, so that when they yield we can still make a defence here, before we retire. Are there other stairs than these?”
“No.”
“So much the better. As soon as we have blocked the door we will barricade the first landing and defend ourselves there. Jean Bart, do you take the command below for the present. Seize everything that you can lay hands on, logs from the wood-store, sacks of charcoal, cases, everything heavy that you can find, and pile them up against the door. Tom, do you come with us; an arrow or two will check their ardour, and it is not likely they have brought bows or cross-bows with them. Try to parley with them as long as you can, Maitre Leroux, every minute is of value.”
“What is all this, Guy?” Dame Margaret asked as she entered the apartment. Having been aroused by the noise she had hastily attired herself, and had just come into the front room.
“The butchers are about to attack the house, lady; we are going to defend it. I have sent to D'Estournel, and we may hope for aid before long.”
At this moment there was a loud knocking at the door and a hoarse roar of voices from the street. The silversmith went to the casement and opened it, and he and Guy looked out. A shout of fury arose from the street, with cries of “Death to the English spies!” “Death to the Armagnac provost!”
Leroux in vain endeavoured to make his voice heard, and so tell the crowd that his guests were not spies, but had been lodged at his house by the Duke of Burgundy himself. A tall man on horseback, one of several who were evidently leaders of the mob, pressed his way through the crowd to the door and evidently gave some orders, and a din of heavy sledge-hammers and axes beating against it at once mingled with the shouts of the crowd. The horseman crossed again to the other side of the street and shook his fist threateningly at Leroux.
“That is Jacques Legoix,” the silversmith said, as he retired from the window; “one of the great leaders of the butchers; his family, and the St. Yons and Taiberts rule the market.”
“Tom,” Guy said to the archer, who was standing behind him. “Begin by picking off that fellow on horseback opposite.”
Tom had already bent his bow and had an arrow in readiness, a moment later the shaft flew and struck the butcher between the eyes, and he fell dead from his horse. A yell of consternation and rage rose from the crowd.
“Now you can distribute a few arrows among those fellows at the door,” Guy said.
The archer leant far out of the low casement. “It is awkward shooting, Master Guy,” he said quietly, “but I daresay I can make a shift to manage it.” Disregarding the furious yells of the crowd, he sent arrow after arrow among the men using the sledges and axes. Many of them had steel caps with projecting rims which sheltered the neck, but as they raised their weapons with both hands over their heads they exposed their chests to the marksman above, and not an arrow that was shot failed to bring down a man. When six had fallen no fresh volunteers came forward to take their places, although another horseman made his way up to them and endeavoured by persuasions and threats to induce them to continue the work. This man was clad in armour, and wore a steel cap in the place of the knightly helmet.
“Who is that fellow?” Guy asked the merchant.
“He is the son of Caboche, the head of the flayers, one of the most pestilent villains in the city.”
“Keep your eye on him, Tom, and when you see a chance send an arrow home.”
“That armour of his is but common stuff, Master Guy; as soon as I get a chance I will send a shaft through it.”
The man with a gesture of anger turned and gave instructions to a number of men, who pushed their way through the crowd, first picking up some of the fallen hammers and axes. The fate of his associate had evidently taught the horseman prudence, for as he moved away he kept his head bent down so as not to expose his face to the aim of the terrible marksman at the window. He halted a short distance away and was evidently haranguing the crowd round him, and in his vehemence raised his arm. The moment he did so Tom's bow twanged. The arrow struck him at the unprotected part under the arm-pit, and he fell headlong from his horse. Maddened with rage the crowd no longer hesitated, and again attacked the door. Just as they did so there was a roar of exultation down the street as twelve men brought up a solid gate that they had beaten in and wrenched from its hinges from a house beyond.
[Illustration: “TOM'S BOW TWANGED, AND THE ARROW STRUCK THE HORSEMAN UNDER THE ARM- PIT.”]
“You can shoot as you like now, Tom. I will go down and see how the men are getting on below; the mob will have the door in sooner or later.”
Guy found that the men below had not wasted their time. A great pile of logs, sacks, and other materials was piled against the door, and a short distance behind stood a number of barrels of wine and heavy cases ready to be placed in position.
“Get them upstairs, Jean,” Guy said; “they will make a better barricade than the furniture, which we may as well save if possible.”
The nine men set to work, and in a very short time a strong barricade was formed across the top of the wide staircase.
“Have you all the cases out of the shop?”
“Yes, we have not left one there, Master Guy. If they are all full of silver there must be enough for a royal banqueting-table.”
Some, indeed, of the massive chests were so heavy that it required the efforts of six men to carry them upstairs.
“How do matters go, Guy?” Dame Margaret asked quietly as he re-entered the apartment.
“Very well,” he replied. “I don't think the door will hold out much longer; but there is a strong barricade behind it which it will take them some time to force, and another on the landing here that we ought to be able to hold for an hour at least, and before that yields we will have another ready on the landing above.”
“I will see to that,” she said. “I will take Agnes and Charlie up with me, and then, with the women, I will move out the clothes' and linen chests and build them up there.”
“Thank you, madame; I trust long before the barricade here is carried we shall have D'Estournel and his friends to our assistance. Indeed, I doubt whether they will be able to carry it at all; it is as solid and almost as strong as a stone wall, and as there are thirteen or fourteen of us to defend it, it seems to me that nothing short of battering the cases to pieces will enable them to force a way.”
“I wish I could do something,” Agnes broke in; “it is hard not to be able to help while you are all fighting for us. I wish I had brought my bow with me, you know I can shoot fairly.”
“I think that it is just as well that you have not,” Guy said with a smile. “I do not doubt your courage for a moment, but if you were placing yourself in danger we should all be anxious about you, and I would much rather know that you were safe with your mother upstairs.”
Guy now went to the window. Maitre Leroux had been directing his servants in the formation of the barricades.
“I can do nothing to protect the door,” the archer said; “they have propped up that gate so as to cover the men who are hammering at it. I have been distributing my arrows among the crowd, and in faith there will be a
