But his companion, young Guy of Burgundy, fingered his light cross-bow nervously. "Ten thousand curses on this coward Truce!" he exclaimed beneath his breath as the duke, all unconscious of his danger, hurried past the ambush. "But for that I might even now speed my shaft and wing the tanner where he stoops above his game. Did'st ever see a fairer chance?" But wary De Plessis caught the lad's uplifted arm. "Have down thy hand and bethink thee of that same Truce," he said. "'T is a wise restriction on your wayward wits, my lord count. The duke's men are much too nigh at hand to make such a bow-shot safe even for thee, and to-morrow's venture which we have in hand may be made without breaking this tyrant Truce or braving the ban of Holy Church. I would have a score of good men at my back ere I try to wing so stout a bird as he," and De Plessis and the hot-headed Guy withdrew from their dangerous ambush, while the duke, calling in his lagging followers, turned over his prize to his huntsmen and rode on to his castle. "To-morrow's venture," of which the Saxon baron spoke, was to be the sorriest chance that had yet happened to the brave young duke. For this very Guy of Burgundy, cousin and comrade to William since his earliest days, brought up in his court, and beholden to him for many favors, and even for his knighthood, had--moved by jealousy--conspired with the foremost barons of Western Normandy to put the young duke to death. That very next night was the attempt to be made here in the duke's own castle of Valognes, away up in the north-western corner of France, some fifteen miles or so to the south of Cherbourg town--the modern naval and shipbuilding city, off which the _Kearsarge_ and the _Alabama_ had their famous sea-fight in the days of the American civil war--June 19, 1864. But a well-known poet has told us that "The best laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft a-gley," and this even the over-confident conspirators discovered. For, before they could reach the castle on the night appointed, Golet, the duke's faithful fool, had fathomed their plans, and with fleetest foot dashed into the castle and up the narrow stairway to the bedchamber of the sleeping duke. Bang, bang, bang, came a noisy pounding on the closed door, rousing the lad, sorely tired from his day's hunting. Again and again the _pel_, or jester's staff, clamored against the door, and now the fully aroused duke caught his faithful servant's words: "Up, up, my lord duke! Open, open! Where art thou, Duke William? Wherefore dost thou sleep? Flee, flee, or thou art a dead man! Up, up, I say! All are armed; all are marshalled; and if they capture thee, never, never wilt thou again see the light of day!"