"It is the king himself!" muttered the palmer; "we will be surrounded by a host! God assist us, or we are lost!" Such were the sounds that trembled on his lips as he abandoned his post.
Selecting the groom who had announced the enemy, he whispered to him: "Do you wish to save your mistress ?" "With my life!" said the man.
"Then lead me to the postern gate." In their impetuosity, the attacking party had neglected to blockade this avenue, before darkness prevented them from discovering it.

The banks of the moat opposite the gate had been made shelving, so as to afford a means of retreat to the besieged, without giving any advantage to the besieger.

When they had gained the postern and drawn back the bolts, the palmer said to his companion: "Now, as you value life and honor, saddle the best three horses--one for yourself, one for your lady, the third for me--swim the moat, and wait till I come." The groom promised obedience, and they separated--the groom to the stable, and the palmer in quest of the Lady Margaret.

He found her in the midst of her dependents, praying in the oratory.

It was a sight to make the heart bleed--that defenceless group, with tearful eyes and hands raised trembling to heaven, now starting as the iron gate groaned beneath the heavy blows, now glancing timidly around as the lightning streamed in upon them.