“Saints of Paradise!” said De Bracy; “what is to be done? I vow to Saint Nicholas of Limoges a candlestick of pure gold⁠—”

“Spare thy vow,” said the Templar, “and mark me. Lead thy men down, as if to a sally; throw the postern-gate open⁠—There are but two men who occupy the float, fling them into the moat, and push across for the barbican. I will charge from the main gate, and attack the barbican on the outside; and if we can regain that post, be assured we shall defend ourselves until we are relieved, or at least till they grant us fair quarter.”

“It is well thought upon,” said De Bracy; “I will play my part⁠—Templar, thou wilt not fail me?”

“Hand and glove, I will not!” said Bois-Guilbert. “But haste thee, in the name of God!”