“Saint George!” he cried, “Merry Saint George for England !⁠—To the charge, bold yeomen!⁠—why leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric to storm the pass alone?⁠—make in, mad priest, show thou canst fight for thy rosary⁠—make in, brave yeomen!⁠—the castle is ours, we have friends within⁠—See yonder flag, it is the appointed signal⁠—Torquilstone is ours!⁠—Think of honour, think of spoil⁠—One effort, and the place is ours!”

With that he bent his good bow, and sent a shaft right through the breast of one of the men-at-arms, who, under De Bracy’s direction, was loosening a fragment from one of the battlements to precipitate on the heads of Cedric and the Black Knight. A second soldier caught from the hands of the dying man the iron crow, with which he heaved at and had loosened the stone pinnacle, when, receiving an arrow through his headpiece, he dropped from the battlements into the moat a dead man. The men-at-arms were daunted, for no armour seemed proof against the shot of this tremendous archer.

“Do you give ground, base knaves!” said De Bracy; “ Mount joye Saint Dennis! ⁠—Give me the lever!”

And, snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened pinnacle, which was of weight enough, if thrown down, not only to have destroyed the remnant of the drawbridge, which sheltered the two foremost assailants, but also to have sunk the rude float of planks over which they had crossed. All saw the danger, and the boldest, even the stout Friar himself, avoided setting foot on the raft. Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against De Bracy, and thrice did his arrow bound back from the knight’s armour of proof.

“Curse on thy Spanish steel-coat!” said Locksley, “had English smith forged it, these arrows had gone through, an as if it had been silk or sendal.” He then began to call out, “Comrades! friends! noble Cedric! bear back, and let the ruin fall.”