At the royal tent a crowd of gorgeously dressed
servants ran hither and thither in helpless panic for the guard
of soldiers who were stationed there had already ridden off in
the direction of the alarm. A man-at-arms on either side of the
doorway were the sole protectors of the royal dwelling.
"I have come for the king," whispered Sir Nigel; "and, by Saint
Paul! he must back with us or I must bide here."
Alleyne and Aylward sprang from their horses, and flew at the two
sentries, who were disarmed and beaten down in an instant by so
furious and unexpected an attack. Sir Nigel dashed into the
royal tent, and was followed by Hordle John as soon as the horses
had been secured. From within came wild screamings and the clash
of steel, and then the two emerged once more, their swords and
forearms reddened with blood, while John bore over his shoulder
the senseless body of a man whose gay surcoat, adorned with the
lions and towers of Castile, proclaimed him to belong to the
royal house. A crowd of white-faced sewers and pages swarmed at
their heels, those behind pushing forwards, while the foremost
shrank back from the fierce faces and reeking weapons of the
adventurers.
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