the Templar, coolly, "lives as yet; but had he worn the
bull's head of which he bears the name, and ten plates of iron to fence
it withal, he must have gone down before yonder fatal axe. Yet a few
hours, and Front-de-Boeuf is with his fathers--a powerful limb lopped
off Prince John's enterprise."

"And a brave addition to the kingdom of Satan," said De Bracy; "this
comes of reviling saints and angels, and ordering images of holy things
and holy men to be flung down on the heads of these rascaille yeomen."

"Go to--thou art a fool," said the Templar; "thy superstition is upon a
level with Front-de-Boeuf's want of faith; neither of you can render a
reason for your belief or unbelief."

"Benedicite, Sir Templar," replied De Bracy, "pray you to keep better
rule with your tongue when I am the theme of it. By the Mother of
Heaven, I am a better Christian man than thou and thy fellowship; for
the 'bruit' goeth shrewdly out, that the most holy Order of the Temple
of Zion nurseth not a few heretics within its bosom, and that Sir Brian
de Bois-Guilbert is of the number."

"Care not thou for such reports," said the Templar; "but let us think of
making good the castle.--How fought these villain yeomen on thy side?"

"Like fiends incarnate," said De Bracy. "They swarmed close up to
the walls, headed, as I think, by the knave who won the prize at the
archery, for I knew his horn and baldric. And this is old Fitzurse's
boasted policy, encouraging these malapert knaves to rebel against us!
Had I not been armed in proof, the villain had marked me down seven
times with as little remorse as if I had been a buck in season. He told
every rivet on my armour with a cloth-yard shaft, that rapped against
my ribs with as little compunction as if my bones had been of iron--But
that I wore a shirt of Spanish mail under my plate-coat, I had been
fairly sped."

"But you maintained your post?" said the Templar. "We lost the outwork
on our part."

"That is a shrewd loss," said De Bracy; "the knaves will find cover
there to assault the castle more closely, and may, if not well watched,
gain some unguarded corner of a tower, or some forgotten window, and
so break in upon us. Our numbers are too few for the defence of every
point, and the men complain that they can nowhere show themselves, but
they are the mark for as many arrows as a parish-butt on a holyday even.
Front-de-Boeuf is dying too, so we shall receive no more aid from his
bull's head