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.
Pages:
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186