JOHN TALBOT.  I told ye truth.  He has come.  Hugh Talbot has come.

(Goes to door.)

HUGH TALBOT (speaks outside).  Open!  I come alone, and in peace. 
Open unto me!

JOHN TALBOT.  Who goes there?

HUGH TALBOT (outside).  The Captain of the Gate!

(JOHN TALBOT unbars the door, and bars it again upon the entrance of HUGH TALBOT. The latter comes slowly into the room.  He is a man in his late thirties, a tall, martial figure, clad in much-worn velvet and leather, with sword at side.  The five salute him as he enters.)

HUGH TALBOT (halts and for a moment surveys his followers).  Well, lads?

(The five stand trembling on the edge of a nervous break, unable for the moment to speak.)

NEWCOMBE.  We thought—­we thought—­that you—­that you—­

(Breaks into childish sobbing.)

FENTON.  What terms will they grant us, sir?

JOHN TALBOT.  Sir, we have held the bridge.

HUGH TALBOT.  You five—­

JOHN TALBOT.  Bourke is dead, sir, and Tregarris, and Langdale, and—­and James Talbot, my brother.

DRISCOLL.  And we’ve had no water, sir, these many hours.

HUGH TALBOT.  So!  You’re wounded, Phelimy.

DRISCOLL.  ’Tis not worth heeding, sir.

HUGH TALBOT.  Kit!  Kit! (At the voice NEWCOMBE pulls himself together.) A light here!  Dick, you’ve your pouch under your hand?

FENTON.  ’Tis here, sir.

(Offers his tobacco pouch.)

HUGH TALBOT (filling his pipe).  Leave the window, Myles!  They’ve promised us a half hour’s truce—­and Cromwell’s a man of his word.

NEWCOMBE (bringing a lighted candle).  He’ll let us pass free now, sir, will he not?

HUGH TALBOT (lighting his pipe at the candle).  You’re not afraid,
Kit?

NEWCOMBE.  I?  Faith, no, sir.  No!  Not now!

HUGH TALBOT.  Sit ye down, Phelimy, lad!  You look dead on your feet.  Give me to see that arm! (As HUGH TALBOT starts toward DRISCOLL, his eye falls on the open keg of powder.  He draws back hastily, covering his lighted pipe.) Jack Talbot!  Who taught ye to leave your powder uncovered, where lighted match was laid?

BUTLER.  My blame, sir.

(Covers the keg.)

JOHN TALBOT.  We opened the keg, and then—­

FENTON.  Truth, we did not cover it again, being somewhat pressed for time.

(The five laugh, half hysterically.)

HUGH TALBOT (sitting by fire).  And you never thought, maybe, that in that keg there was powder enough to blow the bridge of Cashala to hell?

JOHN TALBOT.  It seemed a matter of small moment, sir.

HUGH TALBOT.  Small moment!  Powder enough, put case ye set it there, at the stairhead—­d’ye follow me?—­powder enough to make an end of Cashala Bridge for all time—­aye, and of all within the Gatehouse.  You never thought on that, eh?