o the camp," replied
Fitz-Ernest, after a moment's hesitation, his cheek still flushed from
his master's words. "There is division of purpose and action in the
camp, and an ye not return and head the attack your noble selves, I fear
me there is little hope of victory."

"Peace, fool! is there such skill and wisdom needed? Division in purpose
and action! Quarrelling, methinks, had better be turned against the
enemy than against yourselves. Hugo, do thou speak; in plain terms,
wherefore come ye?"

"In plain terms, then, good my lord, as yet we have had the worst of
it," answered the esquire, bluntly. "The Scotch fight like very devils,
attacking us instead of waiting for our attack, penetrating into the
very centre of our camp, one knows not how or whence, bearing off
prisoners and booty in our very teeth."

"Prisoners--booty--worsted! Thou durst not tell me so!" exclaimed
Lancaster, furiously, as he started up and half drew his sword.

"Peace, peace, I pray thee, good friend, peace," continued Hereford,
laying his hand on Lancaster's shoulder, with a force which compelled
him to resume his seat. "Let us at least hear and understand their
mission. Speak out, Hugo, and briefly--what has befallen?"

In a few straightforward words his esquire gave all the information
which was needed, interrupted only now and then by a brief interrogation
from Hereford, and some impatient starts and muttering from his
colleague. The success of the Scots, described in a former page, had
continued, despite the action of the mangonels and other engines which
the massive walls appeared to hold in defiance. So watchful and skilful
were the besieged, that the greatest havoc had been made amongst the men
employed in working the engines, and not yet had even the palisades and
barbacan been successfully stormed.

"Have they tried any weaker point?" Hereford asked, and the answer was,
that it was on this very matter division had spread amongst the knights,
some insisting on carrying the barbacan as the most important point, and
others advising and declaring their only hope of success lay in a
divided attack on two of the weaker sides at once.

"The fools, the sorry fools!" burst again from Lancaster. "They deserve
to be worsted for their inordinate pride and folly; all wanted to lead,
and none would follow. Give you good e'en, my lord," he added, turning
hastily to his host; "I'll to the courtyard and muster forth my men.
Fitz-Ernest, thou sha