The Last of the Vikings Part 8

In a very few days the Normans had prepared themselves with scaling ladders, and had cut long poles from the forest for the purpose of pus.h.i.+ng the defenders from the wall. Mantelets were prepared of boards fastened together, behind which the attacking parties could advance on the defenders, without exposing themselves to the arrows and javelins which would be hurled at them. The leaders also had pavises, or large s.h.i.+elds, which covered the person from head to foot. The time had now come when the a.s.sault might be made, it was believed, with impunity, so the Norman forces were put into battle array, a small number only being appointed to the task of protecting the women and the camp.

It was a fine sight to see these disciplined men as they moved to the attack in orderly array. Everything bore evidence to the fact that the plan of attack, and the marshalling and disposition of the forces, was the work of a competent general, one who was well versed in the art of war.

The Norman bowmen were thrown out in companies on either flank, for the protection of the forces who were to conduct the a.s.sault, and also for the purpose of distracting and hara.s.sing the defenders as they strove to repel the attack of the besiegers.

It needed little military knowledge to see that the issue could not be doubtful. The meagre band of Saxons, stretched in thin line over the extent of wall, could never hold it against the mult.i.tude who swarmed to the attack. Oswald alone, of all the Saxons, was fully equipped for the resistance of the clouds of barbed arrows about to be poured amongst them. His second in command, Wulfhere, was partly clad in a light coat of mail; but, for the most part, leathern jerkins were the only protection they had. Had it been an attack in the open, in which the forces were equal, these rough Saxons would have given a good account of themselves. Any one of them could have been depended upon to bring down a stag at a hundred paces. Whilst, if it had been a hand-to-hand struggle with their broadswords, or their pikes, they would have fought with the ferocity of tigers. But here they were outnumbered by ten to one, and so circ.u.mstanced that they could not hurl themselves upon their adversaries, and by sheer bravery strike terror into their ranks. They must wait to be attacked, and for every arrow they shot, and for every javelin they flung, there would be half a dozen returned.

Vigneau, Reynard, Jules Reynard and other leaders, were grouped together with De Montfort, who gave orders for successive movements of the besiegers, as though, with the prevision which comes of a carefully matured plan, he could see every act of the stirring drama about to be enacted.

Now the order for a.s.sault is given. The attacking party, with their mantelets mounted on rude wheels, steadily advance across the plain, the archers disposing themselves to the right and left in advance of the main body, giving the attacking forces the form of a crescent. The archers, dodging adroitly beneath the trees, were able to get near the wall, thus threatening to put the defenders between a cross fire. The Saxons, with bow in hand and pike at their feet, but without a shout or the wasting of a single arrow, stood grimly awaiting the onset. The Norman archers commenced the attack by letting fly a volley of arrows, but at too great a distance to be effective. Some of them fell short, and the others were easily dodged by the Saxons, who, as yet, had no pressing call upon their attention. But now the attacking party draw near, and, as they do so, they become more exposed. At a signal from Oswald a stinging volley of arrows from the Saxons come hissing amongst them with galling effect. At this the pace of the besiegers is quickened, and their archers are quickly within distance to do deadly execution with their arrows.

The Saxons, too, find it necessary to let go their bows, and grasp their javelins and spears to deal with foes in close contact, who by this time have begun to scale the wall. The foremost Normans were met with a merciless slaughter, and it is probable that never a Norman that day would have kept a foothold on the wall had it not been for the support of their archers. These, being now at close quarters, pour their arrows in pitiless showers into the ranks of the defenders, and many a stout Saxon falls with dozens of these barbed messengers of death in his body.

Where the attack is hottest, the Saxons reel and stagger, a foothold on the wall is gained, and the Normans are swarming upon it. Oswald immediately dashes to the spot and his battle-axe descends in thunder strokes. Right and left the Normans are beaten down before him; and, with a shout, the Saxons signal the wall clear again.

But the respite is brief, for quickly Oswald's attention is directed elsewhere by the loud shouts of the Normans. He turns a hurried glance thitherward, only to see that the Normans there have gained a foothold on the wall, and are rapidly overbearing his handful of men, though Wulfhere manfully stems the tide, and deals out to the Normans many a deadly blow. In a moment, Oswald also is on the spot to the rescue, and once more the tide of victory smiles upon the Saxon cause. Again it is only for a brief span, for like an oncoming and resistless tide the Normans surge upon the wall, and beat back the slender ranks of the Saxons. One advantage, however, the Saxons now reap; the combatants are so mingled in one deadly hand-to-hand struggle, that the Norman archers dare not let fly their shafts, and can only stand, and, with bated breath, watch the sanguinary struggle.

In the distance yonder, and at the entrance to the tent, there stand Alice and her maid Jeannette, who shudderingly watch the carnage proceed. Oswald and Wulfhere are now fighting back to back, with s.h.i.+eld on arm, and having exchanged their axes for their broadswords. Together they cleave down the ranks of the enemy, until like sheep they quail before these stalwart Saxons.

"What matchless valour this pair of Saxon chieftains display, Jeannette!

If ever heroism and valour deserved to win a battle, surely this is the time!"

"How frightened our men-at-arms seem to be!" said Jeannette. "Do you see how frantically the Baron raves there at the foot of the wall, and shouts at the men? He boasts him of his valour. Why does he not mount the wall and face this Saxon?"

"What human lives are being sacrificed! 'Tis most dreadful! May G.o.d send us peace quickly!" murmured Alice, shading her eyes at the spectacle before her. "These are our people, Jeannette, but I must confess my sympathies are with the Saxons. This leader, too, defends his home with the courage of a hero. G.o.d grant he may not fall into the hands of our men alive, or he will be tortured with fiendish brutality for this day's work!"

The struggle still proceeds with gathering intensity and fierceness.

Baron Vigneau, indeed, as Jeannette had described him, does rave and gesticulate frantically. "Down with him! Now, men, rush on him two or three together! Close with him! Push him from the wall! Hurl something at him!" But nevertheless he makes no effort to mount the wall himself.

De Montfort also stands there nervously directing the attack. "Here, man," said he, to a stalwart soldier by his side, "heave up this long pole and aim a blow at the Saxon." The man heaves up the pole, and, with a run and a powerful blow, he struck Oswald on the head. The blow completely staggers the Saxon; for a moment or two he hovers on the edge of the wall endeavouring to recover his balance; but, alas! it is all in vain, and he drops, with his heavy harness on, down into the castle yard a dozen feet or more.

At this untoward event the Saxons, in a perfect panic, rush for the drawbridge thrown across to the wall from one of the barbicans, and intended as a means of retreat by Oswald in the last resort. But the Normans have intercepted them and cut them off from this, and the custodians, seeing that this would be seized by the Normans, immediately withdraw it. Then the Saxons wildly leap from the wall, and for dear life's sake, rush like hunted hares, for the neighbouring thicket.

For a little while attention is distracted from the fallen chieftain by the efforts of the Normans to cut off these flying Saxons. But down there in the castle yard lies Oswald, stunned, bleeding, and insensible; helpless to fight or to fly. Wulfhere witnesses the helpless condition of his leader, and down he leaps and lifts him up and detaches his visor. As he does so, a deep sob escapes from the parted lips of Oswald; but there is no further sign of life or returning consciousness.

Whilst this has been transpiring, the attention of the Normans has been distracted from the leaders by the necessity to clear the walls of the few Saxons who, disdaining to seek safety in flight, die fighting most determinedly at their posts. Now, however, the Normans turn their attention to the two Saxon leaders entrapped within the castle yard.

Immediately they send up a yell of fiendish delight, as they behold the almost frantic efforts of Wulfhere to arouse his unconscious master, and restore him to his senses.

But 'twas in vain. Oswald's head had been rudely jammed by the steel helmet in the shock of falling; and it was soon apparent to Wulfhere that the brief respite was now exhausted, without bringing any signs of returning consciousness. He threw his left arm around the waist of his helpless chieftain, and drew him, harness and all, upon his hip, and, grasping his broadsword in his right hand, he made with all the speed he could command for the door of the castle, hoping by this manoeuvre to gain time.

But the stalwart and muscular form of Oswald, enc.u.mbered as it was by heavy armour, made progress painfully slow. In the meantime, the Normans reversed their scaling ladders and slid down into the quadrangle, and came trooping after the fugitives. Wulfhere saw his task was hopeless, and with a cry of pain like a wounded deer he dropped his helpless burthen on the greensward, and, furious as some wild beast, sprang at the yelling foe, cutting down the foremost at a blow. Following up the others, who quailed before him, he quickly laid half a dozen corpses in a ghastly circle round his master. But there was no end to the stream of furious a.s.sailants who were fast surrounding him. "'Tis in vain!" he pitifully exclaimed. "Oh, had I here but a score of stout men to make a rampart of steel, we would defy the yelling crew! G.o.d forgive me for this coward's act, my master! I would gladly die with you, but I know I shall better do your will by reserving my worthless life for service to your followers."

So saying, he bounded over the prostrate form of Oswald, and across the sward, mounting the half-dozen steps at the terrace entrance at a spring, and das.h.i.+ng through the open door.

The Normans followed him in concert; but when it became a question of single file to pa.s.s the portal, without knowing whether Wulfhere was lurking within, why then they in "honour preferred one another," with the result that they one and all ceased following Wulfhere, and courageously returned to help their fellows to heap indignities upon the prostrate Earl.

Meanwhile, the gates had been burst open and the Norman soldiers, camp followers and all, had pressed into the enclosure, Alice and Jeannette, with the women, bringing up the rear.

"Whatever are they clambering and yelling so about, Jeannette? Is it the dead chieftain?"

"I think so, my lady. They are like wolves worrying their prey."

"It is a pity so brave a man should perish. If he be not dead I will beseech my father for his life; though I am afraid it will be to little purpose."

"See, my lady, he is not dead; he is standing up."

Oswald had recovered consciousness, and, stripped of his helmet, looked around, though deathly pale and half-dazed.

"Do not kill him, men!" roared Vigneau. "We'll have some sport to-morrow, and then you may cut his throat if he survives."

"Do you hear what that beast in human form is saying, Jeannette?"

"It is horrible, my lady. Let us go away; I am quite sickened."

"Stay a minute, Jeannette. Let us have a good look at him. How pale he is! But look at his n.o.ble countenance--handsome and expressive as a hero's should be! Such countenances have men only who live temperately and think purely. Contrast, Jeannette, the blotched and bleared countenance of Vigneau. There is a tell-tale and an index at once to the beastly life and foul imagination. How my heart revolts at the sight of him! I would prefer the touch of a vampire."

Meanwhile, Wulfhere threaded his way by a path familiar to him, until he reached the foot of the circular stair which led to the turret, ascending which, and watching through a loophole, he heard the command to spare Oswald's life until the morrow.

"Thank Heaven! Whilst there is life there is hope. If a desperate effort to rescue him will succeed, I count upon a few daring spirits to venture it."

But the tramp of heavy feet resounding through the corridors warned him to delay no longer. Turning his face towards a farther ascent, he ran his hand along the wall in the darkness until the feel of a certain stone arrested his attention, applying his strength to which, it slowly revolved, disclosing an aperture into which a man might drop.

Into this aperture Wulfhere disappeared; and the stone revolved to its place again.

CHAPTER XII.

ALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.

"O woman! lovely woman! nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you."

Otway.

It was only by the exercise of the utmost energy that the soldiery and camp followers of the Normans were prevented from looting the castle.

They were somewhat appeased by an unlimited supply of ale from the cellars, and promises of money. Bonfires were lit in the enclosure, and carca.s.ses of sheep and oxen roasted thereat, the whole resolving itself into a grand carousal of drinking, singing, and rough jollity. A certain number of the better cla.s.s were admitted to the castle, where the same kind of thing was repeated in much the same fas.h.i.+on.

In the large hall the leaders feasted and drank with little more of refinement and seemliness than the vulgar people, except that they drank wine and mead.

"Well, Captain Reynard!" said the Count. "Is all well?"

"All well, sire; the gates secured, the place explored, and, I think I may add, the Saxons so thoroughly routed and cowed that they will have little stomach for more fighting yet awhile."

"That may be; but I fancy we should be found very unprepared if they dared venture an attempt to rescue their leader."

"You may depend upon me, Count, to keep a sharp look-out; I shall not close my eyes in sleep until the sun rises to-morrow. But I have no fear the Saxons will attempt a rescue. As I said, they are so thoroughly beaten, and the remnant so glad to be able to escape with their lives, that they will venture no more."

An exceedingly busy and anxious time was spent by Alice and her maids in their efforts to protect the domestics left in charge from the drunken frolics of both officers and men-at-arms. This would have been a task utterly beyond their powers but for the watchful eye and stern discipline of the Count, who, despising the drunken excesses of his lieutenants, with ceaseless care and watchfulness kept watch and ward within and without the castle.