A moment later
four figures appeared at the end of the corridor. He dared not wake his
companions, for they might speak or move, but he grasped his sword-hilt,
having drawn the blade in readiness when Osgod woke him. The men advanced
stealthily, and as they approached he saw they had drawn swords in their
hands. They paused a few paces away, and in a whisper one said:
"Here are three fellows asleep; what shall we do with them?"
"Draw your daggers and stab them to the heart," another replied. "Each take
one, and do not bungle over it. As you strike I will open the door and rush
in. Now!"
Wulf had gathered his legs under him in readiness to spring to his feet as
soon as he saw the figures, and as they swiftly advanced he leapt up with a
shout and crossed swords with the man nearest to him.
"Cut him down! Kill him! It is too late to draw back now!" one of the men
cried. The others, who had recoiled a moment when Wulf sprang up, rushed at
him just as he cut down the man he had first engaged.
"Cut them down and fly!" the one who had before given orders exclaimed,
lunging furiously at Wulf.
"Easier said than done, Walter Fitz-Urse!" Wulf exclaimed, as he parried a
blow and dealt one in return. It lighted on his opponent's shoulder, but
the blade shivered in his hand, for it had fallen upon mail armour
concealed under the Norman's garment.
"It is my turn now!" Fitz-Urse exclaimed, and raised his sword to strike a
sweeping blow at Wulf's head, but before it could fall the latter leapt
forward and caught the uplifted wrist, the impetus of the spring throwing
his opponent backwards, while Wulf fell heavily upon him, and for a moment
they rolled over and over.
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