The veins upon his forehead gathered into knots; even from that distance Christopher could see them.

He looked so evil that his countenance became twisted and ridiculous, and Christopher, noting it, burst into one of his hearty laughs.
The Abbot, who was not accustomed to mockery, whispered something to the two men who were with him, whereon they lifted the crossbows which they carried and pulled trigger.

One quarel went wide and hit the wall of the house behind, where it stuck fast in the joints of the stud-work.

But the other, better aimed, smote Christopher above the heart, causing him to stagger, but being shot from below and turned by the mail he wore glanced upwards over his left shoulder.

The men, seeing that he was unhurt, pulled their horses round and galloped off, but Christopher, setting another arrow to the string of the bow he carried, drew it to his ear, covering the Abbot.
"Loose, and make an end of him," muttered Emlyn from her shelter behind the parapet.