THEN uprose from the hill in the rugged Calabrian valley a soundsuch as had not been heard in those parts before, nor was again,until the streams which rippled amid the rocks had been frozen byover four hundred winters and thawed by as many returningsprings. Deep and full and strong it thundered down the ravine,the fierce battle-call of a warrior race, the last stern welcometo whoso should join with them in that world-old game where thestake is death. Thrice it swelled forth and thrice it sank away,echoing and reverberating amidst the crags. Then, with setfaces, the Company rose up among the storm of stones, and lookeddown upon the thousands who sped swiftly up the slope againstthem. Horse and spear had been set aside, but on foot, withsword and battle-axe, their broad shields slung in front of them,the chivalry of Spain rushed to the attack.

And now arose a struggle so fell, so long, so evenly sustained,that even now the memory of it is handed down amongst theCalabrian mountaineers and the ill-omened knoll is still pointedout by fathers to their children as the "Altura de los Inglesos,"where the men from across the sea fought the great fight with theknights of the south. The last arrow was quickly shot, nor couldthe slingers hurl their stones, so close were friend and foe.From side to side stretched the thin line of the English, lightlyarmed and quick-footed, while against it stormed and raged thepressing throng of fiery Spaniards and of gallant Bretons. Theclink of crossing sword-blades, the dull thudding of heavy blows,the panting and gasping of weary and wounded men, all rosetogether in a wild, long-drawn note, which swelled upwards to theears of the wondering peasants who looked down from the edges ofthe cliffs upon the swaying turmoil of the battle beneath them.Back and forward reeled the leopard banner, now borne up theslope by the rush and weight of the onslaught, now pushingdownwards again as Sir Nigel, Burley, and Black Simon with theirveteran men-at arms, flung themselves madly into the fray.Alleyne, at his lord's right hand, found himself swept hither andthither in the desperate struggle, exchanging savage thrusts oneinstant with a Spanish cavalier, and the next torn away by thewhirl of men and dashed up against some new antagonist. To theright Sir Oliver, Aylward, Hordle John, and the bowmen of theCompany fought furiously against the monkish Knights of Santiago,who were led up the hill by their prior--a great, deep-chestedman, who wore a brown monastic habit over his suit of mail.Three archers he slew in three giant strokes, but Sir Oliverflung his arms round him, and the two, staggering and straining,reeled backwards and fell, locked in each other's grasp, over theedge of the steep cliff which flanked the hill. In vain hisknights stormed and raved against the thin line which barredtheir path: the sword of Aylward and the great axe of Johngleamed in the forefront of the battle and huge jagged pieces ofrock, hurled by the strong arms of the bowmen, crashed andhurtled amid their ranks. Slowly they gave back down the hill,the archers still hanging upon their skirts, with a long litterof writhing and twisted figures to mark the course which theyhad taken. At the same instant the Welshmen upon the left, ledon by the Scotch earl, had charged out from among the rocks whichsheltered them, and by the fury of their outfall had driven theSpaniards in front of them in headlong flight down the hill. Inthe centre only things seemed to be going ill with the defenders.Black Simon was down--dying, as he would wish to have died, likea grim old wolf in its lair with a ring of his slain around him.Twice Sir Nigel had been overborne, and twice Alleyne had foughtover him until he had staggered to his feet once more. Burleylay senseless, stunned by a blow from a mace, and half of themen-at-arms lay littered upon the ground around him. Sir Nigel'sshield was broken, his crest shorn, his armor cut and smashed,and the vizor torn from his helmet; yet he sprang hither andthither with light foot and ready hand, engaging two Bretons anda Spaniard at the same instant--thrusting, stooping, dashing in,springing out--while Alleyne still fought by his side, stemmingwith a handful of men the fierce tide which surged up againstthem. Yet it would have fared ill with them had not the archersfrom either side closed in upon the flanks of the attackers, andpressed them very slowly and foot by foot down the long slope,until they were on the plain once more, where their fellows werealready rallying for a fresh assault.

But terrible indeed was the cost at which the last had beenrepelled. Of the three hundred and seventy men who had held thecrest, one hundred and seventy-two were left standing, many ofwhom were sorely wounded and weak from loss of blood. Sir OliverButtesthorn, Sir Richard Causten, Sir Simon Burley, Black Simon,Johnston, a hundred and fifty archers, and forty-seven men-at-arms had fallen, while the pitiless hail of stones was alreadywhizzing and piping once more about their ears, threatening everyinstant to further reduce their numbers.

Sir Nigel looked about him at his shattered ranks, and his faceflushed with a soldier's pride.

"By St. Paul!" he cried, "I have fought in many a littlebickering, but never one that I would be more loth to have missedthan this. But you are wounded, Alleyne?"

"It is nought," answered his squire, stanching the blood whichdripped from a sword-cut across his forehead.

"These gentlemen of Spain seem to be most courteous and worthypeople. I see that they are already forming to continue thisdebate with us. Form up the bowmen two deep instead of four. Bymy faith! some very brave men have gone from among us. Aylward,you are a trusty soldier, for all that your shoulder has neverfelt accolade, nor your heels worn the gold spurs. Do you takecharge of the right; I will hold the centre, and you, my Lord ofAngus, the left."

"Ho! for Sir Samkin Aylward!" cried a rough voice among thearchers, and a roar of laughter greeted their new leader.

"By my hilt!" said the old bowman, "I never thought to lead awing in a stricken field. Stand close, camarades, for, by thesefinger-bones! we must play the man this day."

"Come hither, Alleyne," said Sir Nigel, walking back to the edgeof the cliff which formed the rear of their position. "And you,Norbury," he continued, beckoning to the squire of Sir Oliver,"do you also come here."

The two squires hurried across to him, and the three stoodlooking down into the rocky ravine which lay a hundred and fiftyfeet beneath them.

"The prince must hear of how things are with us," said theknight. "Another onfall we may withstand, but they are many andwe are few, so that the time must come when we can no longer formline across the hill. Yet if help were brought us we might holdthe crest until it comes. See yonder horses which stray amongthe rocks beneath us?"

"I see them, my fair lord."

"And see yonder path which winds along the hill upon the furtherend of the valley?"

"I see it."

"Were you on those horses, and riding up yonder track, steep andrough as it is, I think that ye might gain the valley beyond.Then on to the prince, and tell him how we fare."

"But, my fair lord, how can we hope to reach the horses?" askedNorbury.

"Ye cannot go round to them, for they would be upon ye ere yecould come to them. Think ye that ye have heart enough toclamber down this cliff?"

"Had we but a rope."

"There is one here. It is but one hundred feet long, and for therest ye must trust to God and to your fingers. Can you try it,Alleyne?"

"With all my heart, my dear lord, but how can I leave you in sucha strait?"

"Nay, it is to serve me that ye go. And you, Norbury?"

The silent squire said nothing, but he took up the rope, and,having examined it, he tied one end firmly round a projectingrock. Then he cast off his breast-plate, thigh pieces, andgreaves, while Alleyne followed his example.

"Tell Chandos, or Calverley, or Knolles, should the prince havegone forward," cried Sir Nigel. "Now may God speed ye, for yeare brave and worthy men."

It was, indeed, a task which might make the heart of the bravestsink within him. The thin cord dangling down the face of thebrown cliff seemed from above to reach little more than half-waydown it. Beyond stretched the rugged rock, wet and shining, witha green tuft here and there thrusting out from it, but littlesign of ridge or foothold. Far below the jagged points of theboulders bristled up, dark and menacing. Norbury tugged thricewith all his strength upon the cord, and then lowered himselfover the edge, while a hundred anxious faces peered over at himas he slowly clambered downwards to the end of the rope. Twicehe stretched out his foot, and twice he failed to reach the pointat which he aimed, but even as he swung himself for a thirdeffort a stone from a sling buzzed like a wasp from amid therocks and struck him full upon the side of his head. His grasprelaxed, his feet slipped, and in an instant he was a crushed andmangled corpse upon the sharp ridges beneath him.

"If I have no better fortune," said Alleyne, leading Sir Nigelaside. "I pray you, my dear lord, that you will give my humbleservice to the Lady Maude, and say to her that I was ever hertrue servant and most unworthy cavalier."

The old knight said no word, but he put a hand on eithershoulder, and kissed his squire, with the tears shining in hiseyes. Alleyne sprang to the rope, and sliding swiftly down, soonfound himself at its extremity. From above it seemed as thoughrope and cliff were well-nigh touching, but now, when swinging ahundred feet down, the squire found that he could scarce reachthe face of the rock with his foot, and that it was as smooth asglass, with no resting-place where a mouse could stand. Somethree feet lower, however, his eye lit upon a long jagged crackwhich slanted downwards, and this he must reach if he would savenot only his own poor life, but that of the eight-score menabove him. Yet it were madness to spring for that narrow slitwith nought but the wet, smooth rock to cling to. He swung for amoment, full of thought, and even as he hung there another of thehellish stones sang through his curls, and struck a chip from theface of the cliff. Up he clambered a few feet, drew up the looseend after him, unslung his belt, held on with knee and with elbowwhile he spliced the long, tough leathern belt to the end of thecord: then lowering himself as far as he could go, he swungbackwards and forwards until his hand reached the crack, when heleft the rope and clung to the face of the cliff. Another stonestruck him on the side, and he heard a sound like a breakingstick, with a keen stabbing pain which shot through his chest.Yet it was no time now to think of pain or ache. There was hislord and his eight-score comrades, and they must be plucked fromthe jaws of death. On he clambered, with his hand shuffling downthe long sloping crack, sometimes bearing all his weight upon hisarms, at others finding some small shelf or tuft on which to resthis foot. Would he never pass over that fifty feet? He dared notlook down and could but grope slowly onwards, his face to thecliff, his fingers clutching, his feet scraping and feeling for asupport. Every vein and crack and mottling of that face of rockremained forever stamped upon his memory. At last, however, hisfoot came upon a broad resting-place and he ventured to cast aglance downwards. Thank God! he had reached the highest of thosefatal pinnacles upon which his comrade had fallen. Quickly now hesprang from rock to rock until his feet were on the ground, andhe had his hand stretched out for the horse's rein, when asling-stone struck him on the head, and he dropped senseless uponthe ground.

An evil blow it was for Alleyne, but a worse one still for himwho struck it. The Spanish slinger, seeing the youth lie slain,and judging from his dress that he was no common man, rushedforward to plunder him, knowing well that the bowmen above himhad expended their last shaft. He was still three paces,however, from his victim's side when John upon the cliff aboveplucked up a huge boulder, and, poising it for an instant,dropped it with fatal aim upon the slinger beneath him. Itstruck upon his shoulder, and hurled him, crushed and screaming,to the ground, while Alleyne, recalled to his senses by theseshrill cries in his very ear, staggered on to his feet, and gazedwildly about him. His eyes fell upon the horses, grazing uponthe scanty pasture, and in an instant all had come back to him--his mission, his comrades, the need for haste. He was dizzy,sick, faint, but he must not die, and he must not tarry, for hislife meant many lives that day. In an instant he was in hissaddle and spurring down the valley. Loud rang the swiftcharger's hoofs over rock and reef, while the fire flew from thestroke of iron, and the loose stones showered up behind him. Buthis head was whirling round, the blood was gushing from his brow,his temple, his mouth. Ever keener and sharper was the deadlypain which shot like a red-hot arrow through his side. He feltthat his eye was glazing, his senses slipping from him, hisgrasp upon the reins relaxing. Then with one mighty effort, hecalled up all his strength for a single minute. Stooping down,he loosened the stirrup-straps, bound his knees tightly to hissaddle-flaps, twisted his hands in the bridle, and then, puttingthe gallant horse's head for the mountain path, he dashed thespurs in and fell forward fainting with his face buried in thecoarse, black mane.

Little could he ever remember of that wild ride. Half conscious,but ever with the one thought beating in his mind, he goaded thehorse onwards, rushing swiftly down steep ravines over hugeboulders, along the edges of black abysbes. Dim memories he hadof beetling cliffs, of a group of huts with wondering faces atthe doors, of foaming, clattering water, and of a bristle ofmountain beeches. Once, ere he had ridden far, he heard behindhim three deep, sullen shouts, which told him that his comradeshad set their faces to the foe once more. Then all was blank,until he woke to find kindly blue English eyes peering down uponhim and to hear the blessed sound of his country's speech. Theywere but a foraging party--a hundred archers and as many men at-arms-but their leader was Sir Hugh Calverley, and he was not aman to bide idle when good blows were to be had not three leaguesfrom him. A scout was sent flying with a message to the camp,and Sir Hugh, with his two hundred men, thundered off to therescue. With them went Alleyne, still bound to his saddle, stilldripping with blood, and swooning and recovering, and swooningonce again. On they rode, and on, until, at last, topping aridge, they looked down upon the fateful valley. Alas! and alas!for the sight that met their eyes.

There, beneath them, was the blood-bathed hill, and from thehighest pinnacle there flaunted the yellow and white banner withthe lions and the towers of the royal house of Castile. Up thelong slope rushed ranks and ranks of men exultant, shouting, withwaving pennons and brandished arms. Over the whole summit weredense throngs of knights, with no enemy that could be seen toface them, save only that at one corner of the plateau an eddyand swirl amid the crowded mass seemed to show that allresistance was not yet at an end. At the sight a deep groan ofrage and of despair went up from the baffled rescuers, and,spurring on their horses, they clattered down the long andwinding path which led to the valley beneath.

But they were too late to avenge, as they had been too late tosave. Long ere they could gain the level ground, the Spaniards,seeing them riding swiftly amid the rocks, and being ignorant oftheir numbers, drew off from the captured hill, and, havingsecured their few prisoners, rode slowly in a long column, withdrum-beating and cymbal-clashing, out of the valley. Their rearranks were already passing out of sight ere the new-comers wereurging their panting, foaming horses up the slope which had beenthe scene of that long drawn and bloody fight.

And a fearsome sight it was that met their eyes! Across thelower end lay the dense heap of men and horses where the firstarrow-storm had burst. Above, the bodies of the dead and thedying--French, Spanish, and Aragonese--lay thick and thicker,until they covered the whole ground two and three deep in onedreadful tangle of slaughter. Above them lay the Englishmen intheir lines, even as they had stood, and higher yet upon theplateau a wild medley of the dead of all nations, where the lastdeadly grapple had left them. In the further corner, under theshadow of a great rock, there crouched seven bowmen, with greatJohn in the centre of them--all wounded, weary, and in sorrycase, but still unconquered, with their blood-stained weaponswaving and their voices ringing a welcome to their countrymen.Alleyne rode across to John, while Sir Hugh Calverley followedclose behind him.

"By Saint George!" cried Sir Hugh, "I have never seen signs of sostern a fight, and I am right glad that we have been in time tosave you."

"You have saved more than us," said John, pointing to the bannerwhich leaned against the rock behind him.

"You have done nobly," cried the old free companion, gazing witha soldier's admiration at the huge frame and bold face of thearcher. "But why is it, my good fellow, that you sit upon thisman."

"By the rood! I had forgot him," John answered, rising anddragging from under him no less a person than the Spanishcaballero, Don Diego Alvarez. "This man, my fair lord, means tome a new house, ten cows, one bull--if it be but a little one--agrindstone, and I know not what besides; so that I thought itwell to sit upon him, lest he should take a fancy to leave me."

"Tell me, John," cried Alleyne faintly: "where is my dear lord,Sir Nigel Loring?"

"He is dead, I fear. I saw them throw his body across a horseand ride away with it, but I fear the life had gone from him."

"Now woe worth me! And where is Aylward?"

"He sprang upon a riderless horse and rode after Sir Nigel tosave him. I saw them throng around him, and he is either takenor slain."

"Blow the bugles!" cried Sir Hugh, with a scowling brow. "We mustback to camp, and ere three days I trust that we may see theseSpaniards again. I would fain have ye all in my company."

"We are of the White Company, my fair lord," said John.

"Nay, the White Company is here disbanded," answered Sir Hughsolemnly, looking round him at the lines of silent figures, "Lookto the brave squire, for I fear that he will never see the sunrise again."