In a moment I was on the floor, with a call to Owen, and it was
well that I had the sense to swing myself clear from the light and
leap from the head of the bed, for even as my feet touched the
floor a second arrow came and struck fairly in the very place where
I had been, and stood quivering in the bedding.

Then was a yell from outside, and before Owen could stay me I
looked through the window, recklessly enough maybe, but with a
feeling that no more arrows would come now that the archer was
disturbed. It needed more than a careless aim to shoot so well into
that narrow slit. Across the window I could see the black line of
the earthworks against the light some fifty paces from the wall of
the palace, with no building between them on this side at all; and
on the rampart struggled two figures, wrestling fiercely in
silence. One was a man whose armour sparkled and gleamed under the
moon, and the other seemed to be unarmed, unless, indeed, that was
a broad knife he had in his hand. Then Owen pulled me aside.

"The sentry has him," he said, after a hurried glance. "Let us out
into the light, for there may be more on hand yet."

Now I hurried on my arms, but another look showed me nothing but
the bare top of the rampart. No sign of the men remained. I could
hear voices and the sounds of men running in the quiet, and I
thought these came from the guard, who were hurrying up from the
gate.

"The men have rolled into the ditch," I said. "I can see nothing
now."