that
were set in their iron holders to light the steps of the tower. Ere the
last of them was burning they heard their enemies ravening without.

"Listen!" said Hugh as they descended to the head of the first flight of
stairs. "They are across the moat."

As he spoke the massive doors crashed in beneath the blows of a baulk of
timber.

"Now," said Hugh, as they strung their bows, "six arrows apiece here, if
we can get off so many, and the odd eleven at our next stand. Ah, they
come."

The mob rushed into the hall below, waving torches and swords and
hunting it as dogs hunt a covert.

"The English wizards have hid themselves away," cried a voice. "Let us
burn the place, for so we are sure to catch them."

"Nay, nay," answered another voice, that of the mad friar. "We must have
them beneath the torture, that we may learn how to lift the curse
from Avignon, and the names of their accomplices on earth and in hell.
Search, search, search!"

"Little need to search," said Grey Dick, stepping out on to the landing.
"Devil, go join your fellow-devils in that hell you talk of," and he
sent an arrow through his heart.

For a moment there followed the silence of consternation while the mob
stood staring at their fallen leader. Then with a yell of rage they
charged the stair and that fray began which was told of in Avignon
for generations. Hugh and Dick shot their arrows, nor could they miss,
seeing what was their target; indeed some of those from the great black
bow pinned foe to foe beneath them. But so crowded were the assailants
on the narrow stair that they could not shoot back. They advanced
helpless, thrust to their doom by the weight of those who pressed
behind.

Now they were near, the dead, still on their feet, being borne forward
by the living, to whom they served as shields. Hugh and Dick ran to the
head of the second flight and thence shot off the arrows that remained.

Dick loosed the last of them, and of this fearful shaft it was said that
it slew three men, piercing through the body of one, the throat of the
second and burying its barb in the skull of the third on the lowest
step. Now Dick unstrung his bow, and thrust it into its case on his
shoulder, for he was minded that they should go together at the last.

"Shafts have sung their song," he said, with a fierce laugh; "now it is
the turn of the axe and sword to make another music."

Then he gripped Sir Hugh by the hand, saying:

"Farewell, master.