“Peste!” said he. “They have some of your birds in their cage, have they not? What then, my friend? Keep your heart high! Is it not the chance of war, to-day to them, to-morrow to thee, and death at last for us all? And yet I had rather they were in any hands than those of Oliver the Butcher.”
“By Saint Paul, we cannot suffer it!” cried Nigel distractedly. “This man has come with me from my own home. He has stood between me and death before now. It goes to my very heart that he should call upon me in vain. I pray you, Raoul, to use your wits, for mine are all curdled3 in my head. Tell me what I should do and how I may bring him help.”
The Frenchman shrugged4 his shoulders. “As easy to get a lamb unscathed out of a wolves' lair6 as a prisoner safe from La Brohiniere. Nay7, Nigel, whither do you go? Have you indeed taken leave of your wits?”
The Squire8 had spurred his horse down the hillside and never halted until he was within a bowshot of the gate. The French prisoner followed hard behind him, with a buzz of reproaches and expostulations.
“You are mad, Nigel!” he cried. “What do you hope to do then? Would you carry the castle with your own hands? Halt, man, halt, in the name of the Virgin9!”
But Nigel had no plan in his head and only obeyed the fevered impulse to do something to ease his thoughts. He paced his horse up and down, waving his spear, and shouting insults and challenges to the garrison10. Over the high wall a hundred jeering11 faces looked down upon him. So rash and wild was his action that it seemed to those within to mean some trap, so the drawbridge was still held high and none ventured forth13 to seize him. A few long-range arrows pattered on the rocks, and then with a deep booming sound a huge stone, hurled15 from a mangonel, sang over the head of the two Squires16 and crushed into splinters amongst the boulders17 behind them. The Frenchman seized Nigel's bridle18 and forced him farther from the gateway19.
“By the dear Virgin!” he cried, “I care not to have those pebbles20 about my ears, yet I cannot go back alone, so it is very clear, my crazy comrade, that you must come also. Now we are beyond their reach! But see, my friend Nigel, who are those who crown the height?”
The sun had sunk behind the western ridge12, but the glowing sky was fringed at its lower edge by a score of ruddy twinkling points. A body of horsemen showed hard and black upon the bare hill. Then they dipped down the slope into the valley, whilst a band of footmen followed behind.
“They are my people,” cried Nigel joyously21. “Come, my friend, hasten, that we may take counsel what we shall do.”
Sir Robert Knolles rode a bowshot in front of his men, and his brow was as black as night. Beside him, with crestfallen23 face, his horse bleeding, his armor dinted and soiled, was the hot-headed knight24, Sir James Astley. A fierce discussion raged between them.
“I have done my devoir as best I might,” said Astley. “Alone I had ten of them at my sword-point. I know not how I have lived to tell it.”
“What is your devoir to me? Where are my thirty bowmen?” cried Knolles in bitter wrath25. “Ten lie dead upon the ground and twenty are worse than dead in yonder castle. And all because you must needs show all men how bold you are, and ride into a bushment such as a child could see. Alas26 for my own folly27 that ever I should have trusted such a one as you with the handling of men!”
“By God, Sir Robert, you shall answer to me for those words!” cried Astley with a choking voice. “Never has a man dared to speak to me as you have done this day.”
“As long as I hold the King's order I shall be master, and by the Lord I will hang you, James, on a near tree if I have further cause of offense28! How now, Nigel? I see by yonder white horse that you at least have not failed me. I will speak with you anon. Percy, bring up your men, and let us gather round this castle, for, as I hope for my soul's salvation29, I win not leave it until I have my archers31, or the head of him who holds them.”
That night the English lay thick round the fortress32 of La Brohiniere so that none might come forth from it. But if none could come forth it was hard to see how any could win their way in, for it was full of men, the walls were high and strong, and a deep dry ditch girt it round. But the hatred33 and fear which its master had raised over the whole country-side could now be plainly seen, for during the night the brushwood men and the villagers came in from all parts with offers of such help as they could give for the intaking of the castle. Knolles set them cutting bushes and tying them into fagots. When morning came he rode out before the wall and he held counsel with his knights34 and squires as to how he should enter in.
“By noon,” said he, “we shall have so many fagots that we may make our way over the ditch. Then we will beat in the gates and so win a footing.”
The young Frenchman had come with Nigel to the conference, and now, amid the silence which followed the leader's proposal, he asked if he might be heard. He was clad in the brazen35 armor which Nigel had taken from the Red Ferret.
“It may be that it is not for me to join in your counsel,” said he, “seeing that I am a prisoner and a Frenchman. But this man is the enemy of all, and we of France owe him a debt even as you do, since many a good Frenchman has died in his cellars. For this reason I crave36 to be heard.”
“We will hear you,” said Knolles.
“I have come from Evran yesterday,” said he. “Sir Henry Spinnefort, Sir Peter La Roye and many other brave knights and squires lie there, with a good company of men, all of whom would very gladly join with you to destroy this butcher and his castle, for it is well known amongst us that his deeds are neither good nor fair. There are also bombards which we could drag over the hills, and so beat down this iron gate. If you so order it I will ride to Evran and bring my companions back with me.”
“Indeed, Robert,” said Percy, “it is in my mind that this Frenchman speaks very wisely and well.”
“And when we have taken the castle—what then?” asked Knolles.
“Then you could go upon your way, fair sir, and we upon ours. Or if it please you better you could draw together on yonder hill and we on this one, so that the valley lies between us. Then if any cavalier wished to advance himself or to shed a vow37 and exalt38 his lady, an opening might be found for him. Surely it would be shame if so many brave men drew together and no small deed were to come of it.”
“Things are not ordered thus, save in the tales of the minstrels,” said he. “I have no wish that your people at Evran should know our numbers or our plans. I am not in this land for knight errantry, but I am here to make head against the King's enemies. Has no one aught else to say?”
Percy pointed41 to the small outlying fortalice upon the knoll22, on which also flew the flag of the bloody42 head. “This smaller castle, Robert, is of no great strength and cannot hold more than fifty men. It is built, as I conceive it, that no one should seize the high ground and shoot down into the other. Why should we not turn all our strength upon it, since it is the weaker of the twain?”
But again the young leader shook his head. “If I should take it,” said he, “I am still no nearer to my desire, nor will it avail me in getting back my bowmen. It may cost a score of men, and what profit shall I have from it? Had I bombards, I might place them on yonder hill, but having none it is of little use to me.”
“It may be,” said Nigel, “that they have scant43 food or water, and so must come forth to fight us.”
“I have made inquiry44 of the peasants,” Knolles answered, “and they are of one mind that there is a well within the castle, and good store of food. Nay, gentlemen, there is no way before us save to take it by arms, and no spot where we can attempt it save through the great gate. Soon we will have so many fagots that we can cast them down into the ditch, and so win our way across. I have ordered them to cut a pine-tree on the hill and shear45 the branches so that we may beat down the gate with it. But what is now amiss, and why do they run forward to the castle?”
A buzz had risen from the soldiers in the camp, and they all crowded in one direction, rushing toward the castle wall. The knights and squires rode after them, and when in view of the main gate, the cause of the disturbance46 lay before them. On the tower above the portal three men were standing47 in the garb48 of English archers, ropes round their necks and their hands bound behind them. Their comrades surged below them with cries of recognition and of pity.
“It is Ambrose!” cried one. “Surely it is Ambrose of Ingleton.”
“Yes, in truth, I see his yellow hair. And the other, him with the beard, it is Lockwood of Skipton. Alas for his wife who keeps the booth by the bridge-head of Ribble! I wot not who the third may be.”
“It is little Johnny Alspaye, the youngest man in the company,” cried old Wat, with the tears running down his cheeks, “'Twas I who brought him from his home. Alas! Alas! Foul49 fare the day that ever I coaxed50 him from his mother's side that he might perish in a far land.”
There was a sudden flourish of a trumpet51 and the drawbridge fell. Across it strode a portly man with a faded herald52's coat. He halted warily53 upon the farther side and his voice boomed like a drum. “I would speak with your leader.” he cried.
Knolles rode forward.
“Have I your knightly54 word that I may advance unscathed with all courteous55 entreaty56 as befits a herald?”
Knolles nodded his head.
The man came slowly and pompously57 forward. “I am the messenger and liege servant,” said he, “of the high baron58, Oliver de St. Yvon, Lord of La Brohiniere. He bids me to say that if you continue your journey and molest59 him no further he will engage upon his part to make no further attack upon you. As to the men whom he holds, he will enroll60 them in his own honorable service, for he has need of longbowmen, and has heard much of their skill. But if you constrain61 him or cause him further displeasure by remaining before his castle he hereby gives you warning that he will hang these three men over his gateway and every morning another three until all have been slain62. This he has sworn upon the rood of Calvary, and as he has said so he will do upon jeopardy63 of his soul.”
Robert Knolles looked grimly at the messenger. “You may thank the saints that you have had my promise,” said he, “else would I have stripped that lying tabard from thy back and the skin beneath it from thy bones, that thy master might have a fitting answer to his message. Tell him that I hold him and all that are within his castle as hostage for the lives of my men, and that should he dare to do them scathe5 he and every man that is with him shall hang upon his battlements. Go, and go quickly, lest my patience fail.”
There was that in Knolles' cold gray eyes and in his manner of speaking those last words which sent the portly envoy64 back at a quicker gait than he had come. As he vanished into the gloomy arch of the gateway the drawbridge swung up with creak and rattle65 behind him.
A few minutes later a rough-bearded fellow stepped out over the portal where the condemned66 archers stood and seizing the first by the shoulders he thrust him over the wall. A cry burst from the man's lips and a deep groan67 from those of his comrades below as he fell with a jerk which sent him half-way up to the parapet again, and then after dancing like a child's toy swung slowly backward and forward with limp limbs and twisted neck.
The hangman turned and bowed in mock reverence68 to the spectators beneath him. He had not yet learned in a land of puny69 archers how sure and how strong is the English bow. Half a dozen men, old Wat amongst them, had run forward toward the wall. They were too late to save their comrades, but at least their deaths were speedily avenged70.
The man was in the act of pushing off the second prisoner when an arrow crashed through his head, and he fell stone dead upon the parapet. But even in falling he had given the fatal thrust and a second russet figure swung beside the first against the dark background of the castle wall.
There only remained the young lad, Johnny Alspaye, who stood shaking with fear, an abyss below him, and the voices of those who would hurl14 him over it behind. There was a long pause before anyone would come forth to dare those deadly arrows. Then a fellow, crouching71 double, ran forward from the shelter, keeping the young archer30's body as a shield between him and danger.
“Aside, John! Aside!” cried his comrades from below.
The youth sprang as far as the rope would allow him, and slipped it half over his face in the effort. Three arrows flashed past his side, and two of them buried themselves in the body of the man behind. A howl of delight burst from the spectators as he dropped first upon his knees and then upon his face. A life for a life was no bad bargain.
But it was only a short respite72 which the skill of his comrades had given to the young archer. Over the parapet there appeared a ball of brass73, then a pair of great brazen shoulders, and lastly the full figure of an armored man. He walked to the edge and they heard his hoarse74 guffaw75 of laughter as the arrows clanged and clattered76 against his impenetrable mail. He slapped his breast-plate, as he jeered77 at them. Well he knew that at the distance no dart78 ever sped by mortal hands could cleave79 through his plates of metal. So he stood, the great burly Butcher of La Brohiniere, with head uptossed, laughing insolently80 at his foes81. Then with slow and ponderous82 tread he walked toward his boy victim, seized him by the ear, and dragged him across so that the rope might be straight. Seeing that the noose83 had slipped across the face, he tried to push it down, but the mail glove hampering84 him he pulled it off, and grasped the rope above the lad's head with his naked hand.
Quick as a flash old Wat's arrow had sped, and the Butcher sprang back with a howl of pain, his hand skewered85 by a cloth-yard shaft86. As he shook it furiously at his enemies a second grazed his knuckles87. With a brutal88 kick of his metal-shod feet he hurled young Alspaye over the edge, looked down for a few moments at his death agonies, and then walked slowly from the parapet, nursing his dripping hand, the arrows still ringing loudly upon his back-piece as he went.
The archers below, enraged89 at the death of their comrades, leaped and howled like a pack of ravening90 wolves.
“By Saint Dunstan,” said Percy, looking round at their flushed faces, “if ever we are to carry it now is the moment, for these men will not be stopped if hate can take them forward.”
“You are right, Thomas!” cried Knolles. “Gather together twenty men-at-arms each with his shield to cover him. Astley, do you place the bowmen so that no head may show at window or parapet. Nigel, I pray you to order the countryfolk forward with their fardels of fagots. Let the others bring up the lopped pine-tree which lies yonder behind the horse lines. Ten men-at-arms can bear it on the right, and ten on the left, having shields over their heads. The gate once down, let every man rush in. And God help the better cause!”
Swiftly and yet quietly the dispositions91 were made, for these were old soldiers whose daily trade was war. In little groups the archers formed in front of each slit92 or crevice93 in the walls, whilst others scanned the battlements with wary94 eyes, and sped an arrow at every face which gleamed for an instant above them. The garrison shot forth a shower of crossbow bolts and an occasional stone from their engine, but so deadly was the hail which rained upon them that they had no time to dwell upon their aim, and their discharges were wild and harmless. Under cover of the shafts95 of the bowmen a line of peasants ran unscathed to the edge of the ditch, each hurling96 in the bundle which he bore in his arms, and then hurrying back for another one. In twenty minutes a broad pathway of fagots lay level with the ground upon one side and the gate upon the other. With the loss of two peasants slain by bolts and one archer crushed by a stone, the ditch had been filled up. All was ready for the battering-ram97.
With a shout, twenty picked men rushed forward with the pine-tree under their arms, the heavy end turned toward the gate. The arbalesters on the tower leaned over and shot into the midst of them, but could not stop their advance. Two dropped, but the others raising their shields ran onward98 still shouting, crossed the bridge of fagots, and came with a thundering crash against the door. It splintered from base to arch, but kept its place.
Swinging their mighty99 weapon, the storming party thudded and crashed upon the gate, every blow loosening and widening the cracks which rent it from end to end. The three knights, with Nigel, the Frenchman Raoul and the other squires, stood beside the ram, cheering on the men, and chanting to the rhythm of the swing with a loud “Ha!” at every blow. A great stone loosened from the parapet roared through the air and struck Sir James Astley and another of the attackers, but Nigel and the Frenchman had taken their places in an instant, and the ram thudded and smashed with greater energy than ever. Another blow and another! the lower part was staving inward, but the great central bar still held firm. Surely another minute would beat it from its sockets100.
But suddenly from above there came a great deluge102 of liquid. A hogshead of it had been tilted103 from the battlement until soldiers, bridge, and ram were equally drenched104 in yellow slime. Knolles rubbed his gauntlet in it, held it to his visor, and smelled it.
“Back, back!” he cried. “Back before it is too late!”
There was a small barred window above their heads at the side of the gate. A ruddy glare shone through it, and then a blazing torch was tossed down upon them. In a moment the oil had caught and the whole place was a sheet of flame. The fir-tree that they carried, the fagots beneath them, their very weapons, were all in a blaze.
To right and left the men sprang down into the dry ditch, rolling with screams upon the ground in their endeavor to extinguish the flames. The knights and squires protected by their armor strove hard, stamping and slapping, to help those who had but leather jacks105 to shield their bodies. From above a ceaseless shower of darts106 and of stones were poured down upon them, while on the other hand the archers, seeing the greatness of the danger, ran up to the edge of the ditch, and shot fast and true at every face which showed above the wall.
Scorched107, wearied and bedraggled, the remains108 of the storming party clambered out of the ditch as best they could, clutching at the friendly hands held down to them, and so limped their way back amid the taunts109 and howls of their enemies. A long pile of smoldering110 cinders111 was all that remained of their bridge, and on it lay Astley and six other red-hot men glowing in their armor.
Knolles clinched112 his hands as he looked back at the ruin that was wrought113, and then surveyed the group of men who stood or lay around him nursing their burned limbs and scowling114 up at the exultant115 figures who waved on the castle wall. Badly scorched himself, the young leader had no thought for his own injuries in the rage and grief which racked his soul. “We will build another bridge,” he cried. “Set the peasants binding116 fagots once more.”
But a thought had flashed through Nigel's mind. “See, fair sir,” said he. “The nails of yonder door are red-hot and the wood as white as ashes. Surely we can break our way through it.”
“By the Virgin, you speak truly!” cried the French Squire. “If we can cross the ditch the gate will not stop us. Come, Nigel, for our fair ladies' sakes, I will race you who will reach it first, England or France.”
Alas for all the wise words of the good Chandos! Alas for all the lessons in order and discipline learned from the wary Knolles. In an instant, forgetful of all things but this noble challenge, Nigel was running at the top of his speed for the burning gate. Close at his heels was the Frenchman, blowing and gasping117, as he rushed along in his brazen armor. Behind came a stream of howling archers and men-at-arms, like a flood which has broken its dam. Down they slipped into the ditch, rushed across it, and clambered on each other's backs up the opposite side. Nigel, Raoul and two archers gained a foothold in front of the burning gate at the same moment. With blows and kicks they burst it to pieces, and dashed with a yell of triumph through the dark archway beyond. For a moment they thought with mad rapture119 that the castle was carried. A dark tunnel lay before them, down which they rushed. But alas! at the farther end it was blocked by a second gateway as strong as that which had been burned. In vain they beat upon it with their swords and axes. On each side the tunnel was pierced with slits120, and the crossbow bolts discharged at only a few yards' distance crashed through armor as if it were cloth and laid man after man upon the stones. They raged and leaped before the great iron-clamped barrier, but the wall itself was as easy to tear down.
It was bitter to draw back; but it was madness to remain. Nigel looked round and saw that half his men were down. At the same moment Raoul sank with a gasp118 at his feet, a bolt driven to its socket101 through the links of the camail which guarded his neck. Some of the archers, seeing that certain death awaited them, were already running back to escape from the fatal passage.
“By Saint Paul!” cried Nigel hotly. “Would you leave our wounded where this butcher may lay his hands upon them? Let the archers shoot inwards and hold them back from the slits. Now let each man raise one of our comrades, lest we leave our honor in the gate of this castle.”
With a mighty effort he had raised Raoul upon his shoulders and staggered with him to the edge of the ditch. Several men were waiting below where the steep bank shield them from the arrows, and to them Nigel handed down his wounded friend, and each archer in turn did the same. Again and again Nigel went back until no one lay in the tunnel save seven who had died there. Thirteen wounded were laid in the shelter of the ditch, and there they must remain until night came to cover them. Meanwhile the bowmen on the farther side protected them from attack, and also prevented the enemy from all attempts to build up the outer gate. The gaping121 smoke-blackened arch was all that they could show for a loss of thirty men, but that at least Knolles was determined122 to keep.
Burned and bruised123, but unconscious of either pain or fatigue124 for the turmoil125 of his spirit within him, Nigel knelt by the Frenchman and loosened his helmet. The girlish face of the young Squire was white as chalk, and the haze126 of death was gathering127 over his violet eyes, but a faint smile played round his lips as he looked up at his English comrade.
“I shall never see Beatrice again,” he whispered. “I pray you, Nigel, that when there is a truce128 you will journey as far as my father's chateau129 and tell him how his son died. Young Gaston will rejoice, for to him come the land and the coat, the war-cry and the profit. See them, Nigel, and tell them that I was as forward as the others.”
“Indeed Raoul, no man could have carried himself with more honor or won more worship than you have done this day. I will do your behest when the time comes.”
“Surely you are happy, Nigel,” the dying Squire murmured, “for this day has given you one more deed which you may lay at the feet of your lady-love.”
“It might have been so had we carried the gate,” Nigel answered sadly; “but by Saint Paul! I cannot count it a deed where I have come back with my purpose unfulfilled. But this is no time, Raoul, to talk of my small affairs. If we take the castle and I bear a good part in it, then perchance all this may indeed avail.”
The Frenchman sat up with that strange energy which comes often as the harbinger of death. “You will win your Lady Mary, Nigel, and your great deeds will be not three but a score, so that in all Christendom there shall be no man of blood and coat-armor who has not heard your name and your fame. This I tell you—I, Raoul de la Roche Pierre de Bras, dying upon the field of honor. And now kiss me, sweet friend, and lay me back, for the mists close round me and I am gone!”
With tender hands the Squire lowered his comrade's head, but even as he did so there came a choking rush of blood, and the soul had passed. So died a gallant130 cavalier of France, and Nigel as he knelt in the ditch beside him prayed that his own end might be as noble and as debonair131.
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1
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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2
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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3
curdled
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| v.（使）凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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scathe
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| v.损伤；n.伤害 | |
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6
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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7
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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8
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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10
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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11
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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14
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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16
squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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18
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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21
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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26
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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28
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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29
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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30
archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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archers
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| n.弓箭手，射箭运动员( archer的名词复数 ) | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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33
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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34
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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35
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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36
crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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37
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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38
exalt
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| v.赞扬，歌颂，晋升，提升 | |
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39
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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40
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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41
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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42
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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43
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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44
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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45
shear
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| n.修剪，剪下的东西，羊的一岁；vt.剪掉，割，剥夺；vi.修剪，切割，剥夺，穿越 | |
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46
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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47
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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48
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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49
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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50
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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51
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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52
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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53
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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54
knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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55
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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56
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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57
pompously
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| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
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58
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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59
molest
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| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
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60
enroll
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| v.招收；登记；入学；参军；成为会员（英)enrol | |
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61
constrain
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| vt.限制，约束；克制，抑制 | |
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62
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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63
jeopardy
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| n.危险；危难 | |
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64
envoy
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| n.使节，使者，代表，公使 | |
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65
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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66
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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67
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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68
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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69
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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70
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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71
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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72
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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73
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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74
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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75
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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76
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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77
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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79
cleave
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| v．(clave；cleaved)粘着，粘住；坚持；依恋 | |
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80
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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81
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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82
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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83
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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84
hampering
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的现在分词 ) | |
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85
skewered
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| v.（用串肉扦或类似物）串起，刺穿( skewer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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87
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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88
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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89
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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90
ravening
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| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
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91
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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92
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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93
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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94
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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95
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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96
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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97
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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98
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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99
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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100
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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101
socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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102
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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103
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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104
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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105
jacks
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| n.抓子游戏；千斤顶( jack的名词复数 )；（电）插孔；[电子学]插座；放弃 | |
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106
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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107
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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108
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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109
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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110
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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111
cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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112
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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113
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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114
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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115
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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116
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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117
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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118
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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119
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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120
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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121
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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122
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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123
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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124
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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125
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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126
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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127
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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128
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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129
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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130
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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131
debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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