"Draw them on, my fair lord! Draw them on until we have them out
on the down!" cried Aylward, his eyes shining with joy. "Five
hundred paces more, and then we may be on terms with them. Nay,
linger not, but keep them always just clear of arrowshot until our
turn has come."
Nigel shook and trembled with eagerness, as with his hand on his
sword-hilt he looked at the line of eager hurrying men. But it
flashed through his mind what Chandos had said of the cool head
which is better for the warrior than the hot heart. Aylward's
words were true and wise. He turned Pommers' head therefore, and
amid a cry of derision from behind them the comrades trotted over
the down. The bowmen broke into a run, while their leader
screamed and waved more madly than before. Aylward cast many a
glance at them over his shoulder.
"Yet a little farther! Yet a little farther still!" he muttered.
"The wind is towards them and the fools have forgot that I can
overshoot them by fifty paces. Now, my good lord, I pray you for
one instant to hold the horses, for my weapon is of more avail
this day, than thine can be. They may make sorry cheer ere they
gain the shelter of the wood once more."
He had sprung from his horse, and with a downward wrench of his
arm and a push with his knee he slipped the string into the upper
nock of his mighty war-bow. Then in a flash he notched his shaft
and drew it to the pile, his keen blue eyes glowing fiercely
behind it from under his knotted brows.
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