Now the guards of the gate had hard work to keep the angry people back, who leaped and tore at the men- at-arms arrayed in front of them, and yelled for eagerness to issue forth and fight.
Suddenly, on the crest of the boulevard, Flavy threw up his arm and gave one cry-- "Xaintrailles!" Then he roared to draw up portcullis and open gates; the men-at-arms charged forth, the multitude trampled over each other to be first in field, I was swept on and along with them through the gate, and over the drawbridge, like a straw on a wave, and, lo! a little on our left was the banner of Pothon de Xaintrailles, his foremost men dismounting, the rearguard just riding out from the forest.

The two bands joined, we from Compiegne, the four hundred of Xaintrailles from the wood, and, like two swollen streams that meet, we raced towards the bastille, under a rain of arrows and balls.

Nothing could stay us: a boy fell by my side with an arrow thrilling in his breast, but his brother never once looked round.

I knew not that I could run, but run I did, though not so fast as many, and before I reached the bastille our ladders were up, and the throng was clambering, falling, rising again, and flowing furiously into the fort.
The townsfolk had no thought but to slay and slay; five or six would be at the throat of one Burgundian man-at-arms; hammers and axes were breaking up armour, knives were scratching and searching for a crevice; women, lifting great stone balls, would stagger up to dash them on the heads of the fallen.

Of the whole garrison, one-half, a hundred and sixty men-at-arms, were put to the sword.