over the successes of the night, and began to talk confidently of capturing the keep on the morrow.
"You will remember, Count," said Luke, "that you gave me your word you would maintain me for life if we took the castle. I would not speak of it, except that the ear of victory is often deaf."
"Never fear, good Luke," answered the Count gayly. "With such a counselor at my elbow, I may yet be king of England. If Edward Longshanks should have the bad luck to lose his life in the Holy Land, who knows what may happen? And if I be king, you shall be ever at my right hand, devising mischief after your fashion."
In the keep, Edgar and his two advisers were holding counsel. Each of the three had taken the events of the night in his own way. Edgar was grieved by the loss of his followers more than by the advance of the besiegers, Hugh blamed himself for the disasters, especially for attempting to hold the smaller towers so long instead of destroying them earlier in the siege. They had cost, he said, some thirty good soldiers—nearly a third of their whole force at the beginning, and had caused the besiegers only a few hours of vigorous work. Only the Friar retained his composure. He was confident that the Count would never take the keep, he said, and said he cared not a fig for any of their losses so far, except for the men slain or
