ay not reckon twenty men at arms in the whole train, and varlets have I
none; but it boots not to number spears when danger presses; so to horse
and away. Beshrew me, were it the termagant Queen Maude herself, I'd do my
best to rescue her in this extremity."--"Thou art a true knight,
Fitzwalter," replied the king, "and wilt prosper: the Saint's benizon be
with thee, for thou must speed on this errand with such tall men as thou
canst muster of thine own proper followers: the Scots, whom the devil
confound, leave me too much work, to spare a single lance from mine own
array. We will drink to thy success, and to the health of the fair
countess, in a flask of the right Bourdeaux: and tell the lady that thy
monarch grudges thee this glorious deed; for by my Halidom, an thou winnest
her unscathed from the hands of these Welsh churls, thou wilt merit a niche
beside the most renowned of Charlemagne's paladins." Fitzwalter made no
answer, but he armed in haste, and, leaping into his saddle, gave the spur
to his gallant steed, and followed by his esquires and men at arms, rested
not either night or day, until he reached the marches of Wales. The lions
of England still proudly flying over the castle walls, assured him that the
countess had been enabled to hold out against the savage horde, who
surrounded it on all sides. The besiegers set up a furious yell as the
knight and his party approached their encampment. Half naked, their eyes
glaring wildly from beneath a mass of yellow hair, and scantily armed with
the rudest species of offensive and defensive weapons, their numbers alone
made them terrible; and had the castle been manned and victualled, it might
have long defied their utmost strength. Drawing their falchions, the knight
and his party keeping closely together, and thus forming an impenetrable
wedge, cut their desperate path through the fierce swarm of opposing foes,
who, like incarnate demons, rushed to the onslaught, and fell in heaps
before the biting steel of these experienced soldiers. Pressing forward
with unyielding bravery, Fitzwalter won the castle walls; whence, with the
assistance of such frail aid as the living spectres on the battlements
could give, he beat back the Welsh host, and in another quarter of an hour,
having dispersed the enemy with frightful loss, gained free entrance to the
castle. Feeble was the shout of triumph which welcomed Fitzwalter and his
brave companions; the corpses of the unburied dead lay