The bridge began to rise, but now five or six of the Abbot's folk, dismounting, sprang at it, catching the end of it with their hands when it was about six feet in the air, and holding on so that it could not be lifted, but remained, moving neither up nor down.
"Leave go, you knaves," shouted Christopher; but by way of answer one of them, with the help of his fellows, scrambled on to the end of the bridge, and stood there, hanging to the chains.
Then Christopher snatched a bow from the hand of a serving-man, and the arrow being already on the string, again shouted-- "Get off at your peril!" In answer the man called out something about the commands of the Lord Abbot.
Christopher, looking past him, saw that others of the company had dismounted and were running towards the bridge.

If they reached it he knew well that the game was played.

So he hesitated no longer, but, aiming swiftly, drew and loosed the bow.

At that distance he could not miss.

The arrow struck the man where his steel cap joined the mail beneath, and pierced him through the throat, so that he fell back dead.
The others, scared by his fate, loosed their hold, so that now the bridge, relieved of the weight upon it, instantly rose up beyond their reach, and presently came home and was made fast.
As they afterwards discovered, this man, it may here be said, was a captain of the Abbot's guard.