The quicker, the less time for discovery." So, having marched orderly and speedily, while the banks of the roadway hid us, we set off to run, Randal and Robin gripping me when we were full in sight of the moat, of the drawbridge (which was down), and the gate.
Then our men all cried, "St.George for England! The witch is taken!" And so running disorderly and fast we made for the Port, while English men-at-arms might be plainly seen and heard, gazing, waving their hands, and shouting from the battlements of the two gate-towers.

Down the road we ran, past certain small houses of peasants, and past a gibbet with a marauder hanging from it, just over the dry ditch.
Our feet, we three leading, with some twenty in a clump hard behind us, rang loud on the drawbridge over the dry fosse.

The bridge planks quivered strangely; we were now within the gateway, when down fell the portcullis behind us, the drawbridge, creaking, flew up, a crowd of angry faces and red crosses were pressing on us, and a blow fell on my salade, making me reel.

I was held in strong arms, swords shone out above me, I stumbled on a body--it was Robin Lindsay's--I heard Randal give a curse as his blade broke on a helmet, and cry, "I yield me, rescue or no rescue." Then burst forth a blast of shouts, and words of command and yells, and English curses.

Cannon-shot roared overhead, and my mouth was full of sulphur smoke and dust.