The first had
not taken three steps ere an arrow from Aylward's bow struck him
full in the chest, and he fell coughing and spluttering across
the threshold. The other rushed onwards, and breaking between Du
Guesclin and Sir Nigel he dashed out the brains of the Bohemian
with a single blow of his clumsy weapon. With three swords
through him he still struggled on, and had almost won his way
through them ere he fell dead upon the stair. Close at his heels
came a hundred furious peasants, who flung themselves again and
again against the five swords which confronted them. It was cut
and parry and stab as quick as eye could see or hand act. The
door was piled with bodies, and the stone floor was slippery with
blood. The deep shout of Du Guesclin, the hard, hissing breath
of the pressing multitude, the clatter of steel, the thud of
falling bodies, and the screams of the stricken, made up such a
medley as came often in after years to break upon Alleyne's
sleep. Slowly and sullenly at last the throng drew off, with
many a fierce backward glance, while eleven of their number lay
huddled in front of the stair which they had failed to win.
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