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Updated: June 4, 2025
'Tis all they want! Leave them to raise the old iron grate, and let in what I hear yonder?" He indicated the darker outer plain below the wall, whence rose the murmur of halted battalions, waiting baffled, and uncertain, the opening of the gate. "Ay, but if we descend?" "May we not win the gate from a score?" Marcadel answered, between contempt and admiration. "Is that what you mean?
Nor did he interfere when Marcadel, pouncing on Louis, where he crouched in the darkest corner, forced him forward to the head of the staircase. There the lad fell on his knees weeping futilely, wailing prayers. But the guard kicked him forward. "In!" he said. "You know what you have to do! In, and strip them! Do you hear? And if you leave as much as a knife " "I won't! I daren't!" Louis screamed.
Even while Marcadel having disposed of one more, stood over the struggling pair on the floor, doubting where to strike, the burghers burst a second time into the gateway on which the guard-room opened struck down Picot, and, hacking and hewing, with cries of "Porte Gagnée! Porte Gagnée!" bore the Savoyards back.
Claude might have intervened, but he remembered Anne and the humiliations she had suffered in this craven's presence. "In!" Marcadel repeated a third time. "And if you leave so much as a knife upon them I will throw you off the tower. You understand, do you? Then in, and strip them!"
Marcadel that was the soldier's name felt about the prostrate man, but found none; and bidding him listen and not move for his life but there was little need of the injunction Claude passed over to the inner edge of the roof, facing the Corraterie.
"A diversion in the rear and 'tis done!" "In Heaven's name stop!" cried Marcadel, and he gripped Claude's sleeve. "A diversion, ay!" he continued. "But a moment too soon or a moment too late and where will we be?" He spoke in vain. His words were wasted on the air. Claude, not to be restrained, had entered the staircase.
Marcadel he who had trembled before the fight answered with exultation. "You were right. We wanted no more men! But it was near. If this rogue had not tripped our throats would have suffered." "He was a brave man," Claude answered, leaning heavily on his pike. He needed its support. Marcadel knelt down and felt the man over. "Ay," he said, "he was, to give the devil his due! And that reminds me.
I advise you to find something, and do your worst. Take the winch-bar if you can find nothing else! And " He broke off. Marcadel, who had remained at the stairhead, was calling to him in a voice that could no longer be resisted a voice of despair. Claude ran to him. He found him with his head in the stairway, but with his pike shortened to strike. "They are coming!" he muttered over his shoulder.
Claude echoed vain-gloriously but only the stars attended to him "I would not have another man!" Marcadel seized him by the sleeve. His voice rose almost to a scream. "But, by Heaven, there is another man!" he cried. "There!" He pointed with a shaking hand to the outer corner of the leads, in the neighbourhood of the place where the winch of the portcullis stood. "We are betrayed!
The third went home in his shoulder, but desperate with pain he seized the hand that held the poniard, and clung to it; and before the man who had been the first to fall could regain his pike, or a third man who was present, but who was wounded, could drag himself, swearing horribly, to the spot, Marcadel fired from the stairs, and killed the wounded man.
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