He had obtained from Mary all the assistance she could wring1 from reluctant England.
For though the Queen entered with all her heart and soul into his projects, as became the daughter of Catharine of Aragon, English people felt that this was no quarrel of theirs, and they remembered that when the "Spanish match" was hotly debated, a provision had been made in the royal contract "that England should not be made a party to Philips Continental3 wars."
During the four months that he had been in England the King had exerted himself strenuously4 to overcome this reluctance5, and he had so far succeeded that a well-equipped contingent6 of eight thousand stalwart Englishmen had joined his army.
Lords Pembroke, Clinton and Gray were in chief command of their countrymen, and many a gallant7 young high-born Englishman had joined the force, eager to gain military renown8.
Such was the feeling, undoubtedly9, that influenced the three sons of the Earl of Northumberland to accompany it, and similar hopes beat high in the breasts of the two Jefferays and Geoffrey de Fynes.
The King took his last adieu of Mary at the old palace of Greenwich; he was never to see the fond, forsaken10 woman again!
Poor Mary, who would not pity her?
Philip hastened to Brussels, where the great army was assembling which was to invade France and bring King Henry the Second to his knees.
It was a motley army, consisting altogether of thirty-five thousand foot and twelve thousand horse, besides a strong train of artillery11.
The flower of the infantry12 was drawn13 from Spain, Spanish warriors14 of great experience, and bearing a reputation second to none in the world.
The English force was entirely16 made up of foot soldiers, the cavalry17 of the army being mercenary troops from Germany, known as "Schwartzreiters."
These "reiters" were the most dreaded18 troops of the age. Dark, swarthy men, of whom Brant?me speaks as "noirs comme de beaux diables," each carrying five or six pistolets in his belt, with swords and, sometimes, a short arquebus.
Truly a formidable armament!
These were augmented19 by a fine corps20 of Burgundian lances, and a great number of noble Castilian youths, eager to fight for the honour of Spain under the eye of their King.
The whole army was under the command of Emanuel Philibert, Duke of Savoy, a youthful warrior15 of but twenty-nine years of age, yet possessing already a great reputation as a clever, dashing soldier.
This was the man whom Philip (probably for reasons of State) was strongly supporting in his suit for the hand of the Princess Elizabeth of England—an alliance which that astute21 lady firmly declined.
Besides the Duke of Savoy there were other illustrious soldiers in command of Philip's army—the Counts Egmont, Horn, Mansfeld being of the number.
Egmont was the hero of the army, as he was destined22 to become the darling of his nation!
Handsome beyond the usual share of mortals, young, ambitious, "sans peur et sans reproche," he was the "preux chevalier" of Europe.
Alas23! that he was destined to die a felon's death in the market-place of Brussels, with his illustrious brother-in-arms, Count Horn.
Such was the army, such were its leaders. For miles and miles tents in many thousands shone in the sunlight, in the pleasant month of August, on the heights above the ancient town of St. Quentin. At the foot of the great camp a morass24 and the River Somme intervened between it and the beleaguered25 city.
Well might the hearts of Englishmen beat high as they beheld26 the river and thought of Agincourt and Crécy! Such thoughts filled the hearts of four horsemen grouped together on the highest plateau whereon stood the English camp.
It was the 9th of August, and the day was breaking, flooding the scene before them with rosy28 light. The pennons surmounting29 the snow-white tents of the Spanish camps fluttered lightly in the breeze, which was scarcely enough to unfurl the heavily emblazoned standards of the great chiefs present.
There were the ensigns of Eric and Henry, Dukes of Brunswick, of the gigantic Lewes of Brederode, of Almoral, Count of Egmont and of Count Horn.
"Look, boys," cried Lord Clinton to Geoffrey, William and Ralph, whom he had made his aides-de-camp. "Look well, the town is awake right early to-day, and Coligni's men are mustering30 heavily around the great gates. They are about to attempt a sortie, unless I am deceived.
"You, Geoffrey, will remain here on watch with me; but you, Ralph, ride at top speed to the Duke's tent and give the alarm; and you, William, to Count Egmont. Haste, haste!" he cried, "the sortie has begun!"
It was a wondrous31 scene.
Out from the town poured the Dauphin's regiment32 under the command of the brave but rash Teligni, and in a few minutes the object of the sortie became evident. Close to the walls, between them and the Somme, stood many houses of the humbler sort, and an avenue of thick plane-trees grew beside them.
In a few minutes the houses were enveloped33 in flames, and the soldiers were levelling the trees to the ground with axes.
These would form an obvious shelter to an attacking force, and their destruction was a necessity.
Meanwhile the Admiral (Coligni) was lining34 the ramparts with arquebusiers, to protect the forces on sortie.
The English camp was the first to receive the alarm and to come into action, as Lord Clinton saw to his great joy.
On all sides they were hurrying up, and presently from their serried35 ranks a heavy musketry fire poured forth37. The distance was great, for the Somme and the morass lay between them and their foe38, and this Lord Clinton instantly perceived.
"Ride, boy, to Count Brederode, and bid him bring up some field-pieces," he cried hotly to William, who dashed off on his errand.
Now the French arquebusiers began a heavy fusillade on the advancing besiegers, and soon a thick veil of smoke hid the town of St. Quentin from view.
Little harm was being done by the hot musketry fire, and Lord Clinton soon saw that the object of the garrison39 would be attained40.
"Oh, Brederode, Brederode! when will your guns speak?" he cried, as he heard the enemy's trumpets41 sound the recall.
Suddenly a roar of artillery rent the air, and the brave foe began to retreat slowly and sullenly42. Many a gallant man lay dead outside the walls, stricken by that fierce fire; but their work was done—the Admiral's object was gained.
The town of St. Quentin, though rich and prosperous, was protected only by ancient fortifications, long since "out of date," and in ruinous condition.
The garrison consisted of but one thousand men, and these were miserably43 armed; there was practically no artillery.
When the gallant Admiral had thrown himself into the town he found but one culverin on the ramparts, and for that one no ammunition44 had been provided!
The town was not provisioned for a siege—a month's rations45 for the troops was all that Coligni could find in St. Quentin.
Then the Admiral took a desperate step which nothing but the cruel exigencies46 of war could justify47.
All the aged48 and infirm, all the sick and helpless, were ordered to leave the city, and seven hundred individuals were thus expelled, most of them to perish from want and misery49!
The women were shut up in the cathedral and the churches, "lest their terror and their tears should unman the troops." Coligni himself was the very life and soul of the defence; foremost in every danger, sharing all hardships, and cheering all despairing hearts, he was prepared to die under the ruins of the town—he would never surrender to the foe!
Meanwhile, a great French army, numbering eighteen thousand foot and six thousand horse, was approaching to the relief of St. Quentin under the Constable50 Montmorency.
It was mainly composed of German mercenary troops, but the chivalry51 of France were represented there in splendid array, proud to fight under such leaders as Montmorency, the Prince of Condé, the Duke de Nevers, Daudelot (the brother of the Admiral), and many another illustrious chief.
The relief army had encamped on the banks of the Somme at La Fère and Ham; the Admiral sent messengers to Montmorency imploring52 instant succour.
The next day, August 8th, Daudelot strove to break through the lines of the besiegers at the head of two thousand men, and he failed miserably!
Most of his men perished in the morass, his guides mistaking the paths, and thus bringing them into contact with the outposts of the besiegers.
Their leader, under the cover of night, succeeded in making good his retreat to La Fère, at the head of a mere53 straggling group of beaten men!
That same night a different scene took place in the great military tent of Lord Clinton: he was entertaining the Lords Pembroke and Gray, and many of the leaders of the Spanish army were there.
The night was chilly54, and a fine rain was falling. Around the camp fire sat warriors of world-wide fame, and the English aides-de-camp, watchful55 for the comforts of their lord's guests, marked each word that fell from their lips.
Especially did Almoral, Count Egmont, call forth their fervent56 admiration57.
"He is like a young war-god," whispered Ralph to William. "Never saw I so glorious a specimen58 of the genus homo. Oh, to follow such a leader as that into the hot din27 of battle!"
"Listen to what he is saying," replied his brother in a low voice; "methinks our chance of such an honour will soon come." For Almoral was relating how that very night his reiters had captured a messenger sent by Coligni to Montmorency.
"He had short shrift, I suppose!" said Brederode, with a hoarse59 laugh.
"By my faith, no!" replied Egmont. "When I had read his message, I sent him on his way to the French Constable, and bade him deliver it duly. For this was the message—
"'Par2 l'amour de Dieu, des sècours, ou nous allons perir.'"
"You did well, Egmont," said Philibert of Savoy, "for I know the fiery60 old Constable well, and this message will sting him to frenzy61.
"Ah! would that to-morrow were the day of battle; for, mark you, we stand in a strange position of peril62. In front of us is St. Quentin, which we dare not abandon. Northward63 lies the French army, while from the south Guise64 is hurrying up with his victorious65 army from Italy.
"We may be caught between three fires unless we can destroy this French army and capture St. Quentin before Guise can arrive. And if we can do this, as by the help of Heaven we shall, there lies no other fortified66 city between us and Paris, and Guise may arrive to find us in possession of that noble city."
The guests rose with one consent and cheered lustily. They drew their swords and clashed them overhead with fierce joy!
"Yes," whispered Ralph to William again, "we shall fight to-morrow, and may you and I be in the thick of the strife67!"
Saturday, August 9th, broke hazily68; St. Quentin was enveloped in a thick mist which arose from the swampy69 plain surrounding it.
At early dawn Montmorency put his whole army in motion; he would relieve St. Quentin, or perish!
His first effort was attended with surprising success. Intervening low hills hid the advance of his troops from the Spaniards, and thus he was able to secure possession of a windmill which commanded a ford70 over the Somme, which led to the Spanish camp.
The mill was held by a small force of the enemy, but Montmorency quickly captured it and placed there a strong garrison under the Prince of Condé. The main body pressed across the ford, and the artillery opened a heavy fire on the Spanish camp, to the infinite surprise of the Spaniards.
It was as though their foe had dropped from the clouds. So near was the range that the Duke of Savoy's tent was levelled to the ground, and Philibert had barely time to escape, carrying his armour71 in his hand! He took refuge in the quarters of the commander of the cavalry, Count Egmont.
This brief success seemed to Montmorency to be the presage72 of victory, and Daudelot was sent with a strong force to cross the river and the morass, and so bring succour to the besieged73 town. Meanwhile the French army would keep the Spaniards in check.
Soon the arquebusiers, in their heavy armour, were plunging74 horribly in the quagmires75 of the morass, and by this time the Spanish artillery was dealing77 death among them.
Moreover, boats were required, and only four could be found; and these, heavily laden78 with soldiers and the munitions79 of war, crossed and recrossed the river slowly and with great difficulty. Two, overladen with their burdens, sank in the deep waters, and the shouts and screams of the drowning men added to the horrors of the scene.
Eventually Daudelot, with five hundred men, reached the gates of St. Quentin; all the rest perished miserably. Montmorency now gave the order to retreat; a strong reinforcement (though at great loss) had been thrown into the city, and so far his object was effected.
Meanwhile, a brief council of war was held in Egmont's tent, in which the fiery vehemence80 of the Count carried everything before it.
The Duke of Savoy urged caution.
The French army was so situated81 that the Spanish infantry, on which he placed his chief confidence, could not act effectually against it.
But the cavalry officers carried the day.
"Shall we let so rich a prize escape?" cried Egmont, with wild enthusiasm. "Heaven has placed within our power the destruction of the flower of the French army, a Prince of the blood royal, and the great Constable Montmorency. Capture them, and St. Quentin will be ours to-morrow; and, by the grace of God, Paris will follow!"
And, as he spoke82, the auburn locks which fell over his shoulders shook like a lion's mane; his eyes flashed fire, his burning eloquence83 was irresistible84!
From the English quarters, where every man was drawn up in battle array, Lord Clinton watched the progress of the battle and the movements of the contending armies, ready at any moment to take part therein.
He marked the Spanish cavalry drawing together in one dense85 mass in Egmont's quarters. By his side stood his young aides-de-camp.
"It will be a cavalry battle, I fear," he cried, "and England will have no share in the glory of the day!"
The young men around him, full of martial86 fire and thirsting for conflict and victory, groaned87 audibly in dismay.
Then Clinton turned suddenly to his faithful three, whom he had learned to love.
"Ah! I see how it is," he cried, "and you shall have the chance of glory you thirst for! Ride, all three of you, to Egmont, and tell him that the English force will follow swiftly on in the rear of his cavalry, in case he need support. Tell him I make him a gift of your three swords, if he can find place for you, and Heaven send you back to me in safety, and forgive me if I err36!"
"Oh, thanks, my Lord, a thousand thanks!" cried the three with one voice, and in another moment they were thundering forth to the spot where Egmont's emblazoned standard fluttered heavily in the breeze.
They were just in time; a minute longer and they had been too late!
The sun had burst forth suddenly from a dark bank of clouds; it shone vividly88 on Count Egmont as he sat on his great Flemish war-horse, splendidly armed, in front of his eight thousand cavalry.
Availing themselves of the privilege attached to aides-de-camp, the three Englishmen traversed the plain in front of the grim line of the cavalry, motionless, but eagerly awaiting the signal to charge.
Reaching Egmont's side, De Fynes, as the eldest89, bared his head and cried—
"A message, my Lord Count, from Lord Clinton!" and he repeated the message word for word.
Egmont had noted90 these three young Englishmen as they hung upon his words in Lord Clinton's tent on the previous night, and he knew the value of good English swords!
So he smiled as he said—
"Lord Clinton offers your services as my 'aides' to-day; be it so—fall in behind me."
They bowed their gratitude91, then drew their swords and joined the ranks of the noble youths who followed the banner of Egmont and did him special and personal service.
Oh, how happy they were!
No fear, no misgiving92 beclouded their martial souls at that supreme93 moment!
Suddenly Egmont waved his sword aloft, and the clarions' shrill94 notes gave the eagerly looked for signal to charge, and with a wild "Hurrah95!" the serried squadrons thundered down the slopes.
Meanwhile conflicting counsels destroyed the confidence of the French army, hesitation96 and dismay beset97 them. The keen eye of Condé had watched the dark masses of Spanish cavalry gathering98 together on the hills ready to descend99 like an avalanche100 on the retreating enemy. De Montmorency's artillery dragged heavily through the swampy ground in the rear, and he would not abandon it.
In vain Condé sent swift and urgent messages to him, pointing out the danger of delay.
It was too late, the Spaniards were upon them! The retreating army stayed its course and boldly faced the coming storm.
Egmont with two thousand horse charged on their left flank; the other side was assaulted by the Dukes Eric and Henry of Brunswick, while Mansfeld burst on their front.
The French army wavered under the tremendous shock, while the camp followers101, pedlers and sutlers took to instant flight, and thus spread dismay through the entire army.
The Spanish cavalry carried everything before it; the rout102 was sudden and final!
The Duc de Nevers made a despairing effort to restore the battle at the head of five hundred dragoons; but the "black devils," as the Frenchmen called the "Schwartzreiters," cut them to pieces, and the Duc barely escaped at the head of a mere handful of men to La Fère, and with him was the Prince of Condé.
For a time the French infantry presented a bold front; the Gascons, the flower of the army, threw themselves into squares, and the fierce cavalry rode round their solid masses, bristling103 with steel, unable to find an entrance.
At this moment the Duke of Savoy, with his artillery, came on the field of action, and their deadly fire sealed the fate of the foe.
Yet the noble chivalry of France refused to be thus scattered104 and beaten; they gathered together in groups, fighting desperately105 to the last—brave souls to whom death was preferable to surrender!
Many men threw down their arms on that field of blood, many fled helplessly before the remorseless reiters, the strong overturning the weak and trampling106 down the wounded.
Blood flowed like water, death was on every side, and above all other sounds were the wild neighing of the war-horses and the fierce curses of their riders.
The fight and the pursuit of the fugitives107 had lasted four hours; the shades of evening were falling as the victors returned to the field to take up their quarters for the night and to secure their unhappy prisoners, for whom heavy ransoms109 would have to be paid to their captors.
France had not suffered such a defeat since Agincourt; the bravest and noblest of her sons had fallen on that field of blood!
Montmorency was a prisoner.
A shot from a schwartzreiter had fractured his thigh110 as he was throwing himself into the hottest part of the battle, determined111 to perish.
Covered with mire76 and blood, unrecognizable in the fierce mêlée, he would have died where he fell, at the hands of the fierce foe.
But over his fallen body stood three gallant swordsmen, whose determined attitude warned all men off. And as the fiery stream of battle flowed onwards, they lifted up the fallen Constable tenderly, and bore him to a place of safety.
Yet were they not to do this deed of mercy unmolested. A swarthy reiter followed them, observing that the fallen man was of high rank.
"I claim this man as my prisoner, and I hold to ransom108; mine was the shot that brought him down," said he fiercely.
"Make your claim good to King Philip, we shall not resist it; the ransom may be yours, but at present the body is ours," answered De Fynes boldly.
And De Montmorency lived to pay so great a ransom (10,000 ducats), that his captor was able to buy a fortress112 on the Rhine and a title of nobility!
But the Constable's fame as a soldier was lost for ever, and the evening of his days was spent in obscurity.
That night the three English youths, unwounded and unscathed, reported themselves to their commander, Lord Clinton. Ah, what a happy meeting was that! And though the English contingent took no leading part in the battle, yet their presence before the town prevented Coligni from succeeding in an attempted sortie from St. Quentin—they did good service.
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wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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morass
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| n.沼泽，困境 | |
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beleaguered
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| adj.受到围困[围攻]的；包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词)；困扰；骚扰 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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surmounting
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| 战胜( surmount的现在分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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mustering
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的现在分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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enveloped
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lining
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serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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51
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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58
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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63
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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hazily
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| ad. vaguely, not clear | |
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swampy
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| adj.沼泽的，湿地的 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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presage
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| n.预感，不祥感；v.预示 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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quagmires
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| n.沼泽地，泥潭( quagmire的名词复数 ) | |
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mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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munitions
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| n.军火，弹药；v.供应…军需品 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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98
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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99
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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100
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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101
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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102
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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103
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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104
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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105
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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106
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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107
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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108
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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109
ransoms
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| 付赎金救人，赎金( ransom的名词复数 ) | |
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110
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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111
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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112
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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