"This is bad news indeed. I wondered why he came not to me as soon as we
had beaten them off, but I thought not of this. He was a good and
trustworthy fellow, and I shall miss him sorely. Seventeen, say you? It is
too many; and yet there might have been more. Who are they?"

"Four of our archers, Sir Eustace, one of our English men-at-arms, and six
of your French men-at-arms. These were all killed by cross-bow bolts and
arrows, Two of your tenants, Pierre Leroix and Jules Beaune, and four of
their men fell on the wall when the French gained a footing there; three
were, I hear, unmarried men, the other has left a wife and three
children."

"They shall be my care," the knight said. "The wives of Leroix and Beaune
shall hold their farms free of dues until their eldest sons come of age.
Does all seem quiet without?"

"All is quiet, my lord; but as I left the wall but now a knight with a
white flag and four torch-bearers was coming down the slope towards the
outwork."

"I will go there myself," Sir Eustace said; "'tis likely they do but come
to ask for leave to carry off the dead and wounded, which we will gladly
let them do, for it will save us much trouble to-morrow."

It was as the knight had supposed, and he at once gave the permission
asked for, and in a short time a great number of men with torches came
down the slope and for the next two hours were occupied in carrying off
their dead and wounded comrades. A close watch was maintained all night,
though there was small fear of a renewal of the attack. At daybreak the