God Wills It! Part 21

And while Herbert tugged at the cords, the Spaniard's cimeter swung side by side with Trenchefer. A great rush: the Valmont men, tall mountain giants, were at the two and about them in a twinkling. One sweep should have flung the twain to the court below; fools!--they knew not that all the South Country had no better swordsmen. Richard struck right, Musa left; and their blades grew red. The attackers recoiled as from live fire. A second rush--a second repulse; once more--the parapet was narrow; the Valmont men reeled back, and some cried out in terror.

"Out of the way, dogs!" Raoul was bawling. "I will beat them down!"

But as he rushed, Herbert rose from his task. The great axe was swinging over his head; and as it poised, first De Carnac, then Nasr, then the rest by tens cleared the wall.

"G.o.d is with us!" burst from Richard, and he leaped from the parapet into the court below. Right amongst the swarming Valmonters he plunged, and Trenchefer cleared the path. At his right pressed Musa, at his left Herbert, and with such guardian saints all h.e.l.l might rage in vain against him.

Man to man they fought and right valiantly; but our Lady of St. Julien smiled on her votaries that sinful night. They flung wide the door to the court; the Saracens swarmed in, biting like cats with their crooked cimeters.

"Devils! Paynim devils!" howled the Valmonters, as they still more gave way. "Christ save! We are lost!"

"Back to the keep!" thundered Raoul, who had laid more than one foeman low. "Back, and I will guard the bridge!"

The Valmonters surged back. They swarmed upon the drawbridge. The wood creaked with their rush, the stout chains tightened. Raoul, whose flail had made even De Carnac give way, turned to follow, but Richard was on him.

"Now, torturer of old men!" the Norman hissed it through his teeth while he felt Trenchefer leaping on high, as though it were a breathing thing.

"Now, St. Julien hound!" and Raoul ran down the bridge to meet him.

They were above the moat--a misstep, death. Richard knew it all, yet in strange way knew nothing. Fear--what was it? He saw Raoul's great spike dash down upon him; his head rang, strange lights glared in his eyes; but all his strength sped into the hilt of Trenchefer. The good sword caught the tough oak of the flail, cleft it as a reed, and Raoul de Valmont gave one great cry, and showed a face all gnarled with deathly hate as he reeled into the darkling moat.

"G.o.d is with us!" again Richard cried, and he leaped upon the drawbridge. The great door slammed fast in his face; he could hear the bolts rattle; feverish hands strained on the levers to the bridge-ropes. But just as the planking sprang up, the axe of Herbert drove through the ropes like pack thread, and Richard rushed onward to the door.

"Quarter, kind lord, quarter!" voices were crying from within. "Mercy!

our lives! as you love Christ!"

"Down with the door!" raged Longsword, whose head seemed one ball of fire.

Herbert poised the great axe, and the solid wood sprang in with the blow, but the bolts were strong.

"Give it me!" and Richard s.n.a.t.c.hed the axe like a toy. Three times the door gave back under the shattering shock; and with the fourth it reeled inward. From the battlement above, beams and stones snowed down upon him. What recked Longsword? He knew they would not hurt, and cared not if they should. Where in his mind was Mary Kurkuas when he felt the hot blood streaming on his torn forehead, and the fury of demons in his heart!

"G.o.d is with us!" a third time he called it. Before, opened the dark, narrow, vaulted way to the great hall. There were flas.h.i.+ng eyes and tossing blades in the pa.s.sage. What were these at such an hour! The Valmonters had lived as devils, as devils they fought; but what could they do, save die? Three minutes of hard cutting hand to hand, and the way was cleared. Longsword and his men--that were left--stood in the great hall. The cups still lay on the long tables, sc.r.a.ps of food on the trenchers; for the evening's carousal had not been cleared away.

For a moment there was darkness, then a cresset on the wall flashed up, another and another, and all was light.

"Fire! Death! Sack!" the St. Julien men were shouting, and who should say them nay?

There were women and little children cowering on the settles, young girls ran screaming up the swaying ladders to the lofts above, and after them the raging victors. Richard's voice was a trumpet calling above the stormy chaos.

"Up to the parapet, Nasr! Let not a man escape! Search the dungeons, Herbert, lest any hide!"

"Kill! kill!" threescore throats were echoing.

But Richard had caught an old woman by the arm, and dragged her from her knees.

"They say Raoul had a young brother. Where is he? Speak, if you wish to live." His sword was swinging, very red.

"Pity, lord," moaned the s.h.i.+vering creature. "Spare Gilbert. He is harmless as a dove!"

"Where is the boy, woman?" belched the Norman, and struck at her with his knotted fists.

"Oh, mercy!" screamed she; "his mother, Lady Ide, took him to the chapel."

"After me, men!" blazed Richard; and he ran towards a rude stairway leading to a chamber below.

Musa caught his arm. "My brother!" he cried in his ear, "you are beside yourself! This is no work for a cavalier. Your grandfather is avenged. Call off the men!"

"By the Splendor of G.o.d!" flashed forth Longsword, "not even _you_ shall stop me now!" He thrust back Musa with one sweep of his arm, and flew down the stairway, twenty blades at his heels.

Above, raged the roar of conflict: the moans, cries, agony, battle-shouts, all blending in one hideous, echoing storm. For a moment after the red glare of the hall, Richard blinked in the dark; then in the lower chamber he saw an altar, and four tall candles burning upon it; and around the altar clung white-clad figures, moaning and praying in one breath.

Straight across the little chapel sped Richard; and as he did so he saw amongst the women two men, one tall and in armor, with a sword at his side; the other a youth, with a fair girl's face and curling golden hair. As he strode, one of the women rose and stood before him; very queenly she was in her flowing gray hair, and her brave sweet face; for she was Ide of the Swan's Neck, once the fairest lady in all Auvergne.

"As you hope in G.o.d--" began she. But as she spoke the man in armor sprang from the altar, sword in hand.

"Ha! John of the Iron Arm!" laughed De Carnac at Richard's side.

"By the Cross!" cried the Valmonter, "you shall not take me here like a cornered rat!"

And before he could raise to parry, Richard saw the other's blade swing straight upon him. One flash--one thought of Mary Kurkuas--cras.h.!.+ The great mace of Sebastian had dashed the sword aside, and De Carnac smote the man-at-arms so that he toppled with a dull cry. Richard saw John of the Iron Arm at his feet.

"Seize! Bind!" he shouted; "let him be as Baron Gaston said." And he strode straight on toward the altar. Lady Ide caught at his hands.

"As you hope in G.o.d," she pleaded, "do not harm my son! Revere the altar!"

And Richard, with all the fiends in his heart, smote her so that she fell without a moan. He saw the boy clinging to a box on the altar--sacred relics doubtless. In one hand the lad held up a brazen crucifix, and stretched it forth--defence against the slayer.

"Pity, pity, for the love of Christ!" he was pleading. He was only a young lad.

Sebastian tore at Richard's arm.

"As you love Our Lord!" cried the churchman, "spare him!" Richard glared round the room.

"Some of you strike down this boy!" was his command to all about. De Carnac, mad sinner, started forward, gave a glance at the relic box and crucifix, recoiled, crossing himself. "Deliver us from evil!" he was muttering.

"You, Abul Kadir," cried Richard to a grinning Saracen. "Pluck the boy away! Hew him down!"

But the Moslem, though his fingers twitched round his hilt, did not stir. "Away, away!" pleaded Sebastian, dragging at the Norman's arm.

"Our Lady spare this wickedness!"

"Pity, sweet lord!" moaned the lad, his fair head bowed beneath the crucifix. Richard shook himself from Sebastian's hand. Trenchefer had sprung on high; at his shout the vaulting rang.

"I have sworn it! Christ died not for the sp.a.w.n of Valmont!" The great sword dashed down the crucifix, shattered the sacred box; the lad lay with his bright locks in a crimson pool.

Then silence more horrible than any noise. In the rooms above they were still chasing, plundering, slaughtering; it sounded very far away. All the tapers save one had been dashed out by the stroke; in the pale flicker Richard could see strong men with their heads bowed, and their lips moving in prayer. Musa leaned against a stone pillar, his cimeter dropped, his face buried in his hands. Only Sebastian was raising his hand in adjuration.

"Come out of him, thou unclean demon," he was saying slowly and solemnly.

Richard looked left, looked right. Why did men stare at him, and shrink away from his glance? Why did his head throb as if the veins were bursting? He held up Trenchefer--how red the blade was! What had he been doing? Lady Ide on the hard flags was beginning to quiver and moan--how came she there? The other women had fled the chapel. The gray shadowy walls seemed turning round and round; Richard caught the altar-rail to stand steady.