"Life is given us to spend," quoth Prosper here.
"He came back with six men. But he brought the tongue of Blaise Renny
in a silver cup, and three wicket-gates, which took two men apiece to
carry."
"He had saved just enough men. That was wise of him, and like the king
his namesake," Prosper said, approving of Salomon.
"It was what he said himself", pursued the Countess, "that it was a
fortunate circumstance"
"And how did he win his adventure, and what had the wicket-gates to do
with the business?"
"You shall hear. It seems that Coldscaur, which is in North Marvilion
beyond the Middle Shires, stands on a fretted scarp. It is strongly
defended by art as well as nature, for there are three ravines about
it with a stepped path through each up to the Castle. These were
defended about midway of each by a wicket-gate and a couple of towers.
The gorges are so narrow that there is barely room for a man and horse
to get through; the gates of course correspond."
"Fine defences," said Prosper.
"Very. Well, Salomon de Born with my fifty men seized and occupied a
village at the foot of the scarp one night. In the morning there were
his defences thrown up man-high, and my standard on the church tower.
Renny was furious, and despatched a stronger force than he could
afford to re-take the village. Salomon, counting upon this, had left
two men in it to be killed; with the rest he scaled the scaur and
waited in hiding to see what force Renny took out. He knew to a nicety
the strength of the garrison, saw what there was to see, made his
calculations, and thought he would venture it. He got over the rock,
he and his men, by some means; came down the gorges from the top,
secured the defences, and posted a couple of men at each wicket. With
the rest he surprised the Castle. I believe, indeed, that all the men
in it were killed as well as most of mine. Yet for three or four hours
Coldscaur was in my hands."
"It should have been yours now," said Prosper, "with fifty of your men
once in it."
"My friend, I didn't need Coldscaur. I have castles enough. But it was
necessary to punish Renny."
"And that was done?"
"It was done. Salomon posted his men in the towers by the wicket-
gates, and waited for Renny to return from the village. Luckily for
him it grew dusk, but not dark, before he could be certain by which
gorge Renny himself was coming in. When he had made sure of this he
took all three wickets off their hinges, and sent six men to carry
them home to High March. With the rest he waited for Renny. Finally he
saw him riding up the stepped way, and, as his custom was, far ahead
of his troop. You must know that these people are besotted with pride;
the state they kept (and still keep, I suppose) was more than royal.
No one must ride, walk, or stand within a dozen yards of Renny of
Coldscaur. Salomon had calculated upon it. Well, it was dark before
Renny reached the wicket. Someone (Salomon, no doubt) called for the
word. Renny gave it; but it was his last. Salomon stabbed him at the
same instant and pulled him off his horse out of the way. He sent the
horse clattering up the hill. Renny's men followed it, nothing
doubting. I might have had the better part of my men but for the
subsequent foppery of the youth. He had Renny dead. He had Renny's
tongue. He must needs have a silver dish to put it in, so as to
present it honourably to me. He went to the Castle to get this. He got
it; but he was discovered and pursued, and only he escaped--he and the
six bearers of the wicket-gates. That is my story of the coat in
return for yours of the bird. The hero of it took the name of Salomon
de Montguichet after this performance, and my pursuivant devised him a
blazon, with the legend, Entra per me."