Malcolm was the first to awake, and was vexed to find by a stream of
light pouring down through the half open trapdoor above that it was
broad day. He roused the men, and the stoppings were at once removed
from the loopholes. The sun was already high, for the party, overpowered
with fatigue, had slept long and soundly.
Malcolm looked cautiously from the window; no one was in sight, and the
ruins of the village below lay black and deserted. The men resumed the
clothes which had been used for blocking the loopholes, and sat down
to pass the long hours which would elapse before the time for action
arrived. It was exceedingly cold, for there were loopholes on each side
of the chamber, and the wind blew keenly through.
“Sergeant,” Malcolm said, “we will risk a bit of fire again, for the
cold pierces to the bone; only be sure that you use perfectly dry wood.
Examine each piece to see that no drip from the roof has penetrated it.
If it is dry it will give but little smoke, and a slight vapour is not
likely to be observed rising from the top of the tower.”
The fire was again lighted, and the smoke was so slight that Malcolm had
little fear of its being observed.
An hour later, as the men were talking, Malcolm suddenly held up his
hand for silence, and the murmur of voices was heard without. Malcolm
rose to his feet to reconnoitre, standing far back from the loophole as
he did so. A group of some eight or ten peasants were standing looking
at the tower, while a woman was pointing to it and talking eagerly.
It was towards the windows that she was pointing, and Malcolm guessed at
once that, having returned in the early morning to see what remained
of her home, she had happened to notice the garments stuffed in the
windows, and had carried the news to some of her companions. Malcolm
regretted bitterly now that he had not set a watch, so that at the first
gleam of daylight the windows might have been unblocked; but it was now
too late.
“We shall have to fight for it, lads,” he said, turning round. “Our
clothes must have been seen early this morning, and there is a party
of peasants watching the tower. Of course they cannot know at present
whether we are friends or foes; but no doubt the news of last evening's
doings has travelled through the country, and the peasants are on the
lookout for us, so they may well guess that we are here. However, we
shall soon see. Sergeant, place one of your men on sentry at the foot of
the stairs, but do not let him speak or give any signs of his presence
if the door is tried.”
One of the soldiers was placed on guard. Scarcely had he taken his
station when there was a knocking at the door, and shouts were heard
outside from the peasants calling on those within, if they were friends,
to come out. No answer was returned.
“It's fortunate for you,” Malcolm muttered, “that we don't come out, or
we should make short work of you; but I know you would fly like hares
if you saw us, and would bring the whole country down on us. No; we
must hold out here. Our only hope is to escape at night, or to hold this
place till some of our troops come along. At any moment some regiments
from the Lech may be marching forward to join the king.
“We must make our bread last, lads,” he said cheerfully to the men,
“for we may have to stand a long siege. Methinks we can hold this stone
staircase against all the peasants of this part of Bavaria; and we must
do so until we hear the sound of the Swedish drums; they may come along
at any time. If the worst comes to the worst one of us must start at
night and carry news of our peril to the Lech. We made a good supper
last night, and can fast for a bit. If we cut our bread up into small
portions we can hold out for days. There should be snow enough on the
tower top to furnish us with drink.”
After hammering at the door for some time, the peasants retired
convinced that there were none of their own people within the tower, and
that those who had slept there were the fugitives of whom they had been
in search during the night. These might, indeed, have departed in the
interval between the time when the woman first saw the traces of their
presence and her return with them; but they did not think that this was
so, for in that case they could not have fastened the door behind them.
The peasants accordingly withdrew a short distance from the church, and
three of their number were sent off in different directions to bring
up reinforcements. As soon as Malcolm saw this movement he knew that
concealment was useless, and began to make preparations for the defence.
First, he with the sergeant ascended to the roof of the tower. To his
disappointment he saw that the heat of the flames had melted the snow,
and that most of the water had run away. Some, however, stood in the
hollows and inequalities of the stone platform, where it had again
frozen into ice.
As the supply would be very precious, Malcolm directed that before any
moved about on the platform every piece of ice should be carefully taken
up and carried below. Here it was melted over the fire in one of
the iron caps, and was found to furnish three quarts of water. The
appearance of Malcolm and his companion on the tower had been hailed by
a shout of hatred and exultation by the peasants; but the defenders had
paid no attention to the demonstration, and had continued their work as
if regardless of the presence of their enemies.
On his return to the platform Malcolm found, looking over the low
parapet, that on the side farthest from the church great icicles hung
down from the mouth of the gutter, the water having frozen again as it
trickled from the platform. These icicles were three or four inches in
diameter and many feet in length. They were carefully broken off, and
were laid down on the platform where they would remain frozen until
wanted. Malcolm now felt secure against the attacks of thirst for
some days to come. The stones of the parapet were next tried, and were
without much trouble moved from their places, and were all carried to
the side in which the door was situated, in readiness to hurl down upon
any who might assault it. Some of the beams of the upper flooring were
removed from their places, and being carried down, were wedged against
the upper part of the door, securing it as firmly as did the stones
below. These preparations being finished, Malcolm took a survey of the
situation outside.
The group of peasants had increased largely, some thirty or forty men
armed with pikes, bills, and scythes being gathered in a body, while
many more could be seen across the country hurrying over the white plain
towards the spot. The windows of the lower apartment had been barricaded
with planks, partly to keep out missiles, partly for warmth. A good fire
now blazed in the centre, and the soldiers, confident in themselves and
their leader, cracked grim jokes as, their work being finished, they sat
down around it and awaited the attack, one of their number being placed
on the summit of the tower to give warning of the approach of the enemy.
“I would that we had a musket or two,” Malcolm said; “for we might then
keep them from the door. I have only some twenty charges for my pistols,
and the most of these, at any rate, I must keep for the defence of the
stairs.”
Presently the sentry from above called out that the peasants were moving
forward to the attack.
“Sergeant,” Malcolm said, “do you fasten my green scarf to a long strip
of plank and fix it to the top of the tower. We cannot fight under
a better banner. Now let us mount to the roof and give them a warm
reception.”
“Look out, sir,” the sentry exclaimed as Malcolm ascended the stair,
“three or four of them have got muskets.”
“Then we must be careful,” Malcolm said. “I don't suppose they are much
of marksmen, but even a random shot will tell at times, and I want to
take you all back safe with me; so keep low when you get on the roof,
lads, and don't show your heads more than you can help.”
Heralding their attack by a discharge from their muskets, whose balls
whistled harmlessly round the tower, the peasants rushed forward to the
door and commenced an assault upon it with hatchets and axes.
Malcolm and his men each lifted a heavy stone and rolled it over the
parapet, the five loosing the missiles simultaneously. There was a dull
crash, and with a terrible cry the peasants fled from the door. Looking
over, Malcolm saw that six or seven men had been struck down. Five of
these lay dead or senseless; two were endeavouring to drag themselves
away.
“That is lesson number one,” he said. “They will be more prudent next
time.”
The peasants, after holding a tumultuous council, scattered, most of
them making for a wood a short distance off.
“They are going to cut down a tree and use it as a battering ram,”
Malcolm observed. “They know that these large stones are too heavy for
us to cast many paces from the foot of the wall. We must get to work
and break some of them up. That will not be difficult, for the wind and
weather have rotted many of them half through.”
The stones were for the most part from two to three feet long and nine
or ten inches square. Two were laid down on the platform some eighteen
inches apart and another placed across them. The four men then lifted
another stone, and holding it perpendicularly brought it down with all
their strength upon the unsupported centre of the stone, which broke in
half at once. To break it again required greater efforts, but it yielded
to the blows. Other stones were similarly treated, until a large pile
was formed of blocks of some ten inches each way, besides a number of
smaller fragments.
In half an hour the peasants reappeared with a slight well grown tree
some forty feet long which had been robbed of its branches. It was laid
down about fifty yards from the church, and then twenty men lifted it
near the butt and advanced to use it as a battering ram, with the small
end forward; but before they were near enough to touch the door the
bearers were arrested by a cry from the crowd as the defenders appeared
on the tower, and poising their blocks of stone above their heads,
hurled them down. Three of them flew over the heads of the peasants, but
the others crashed down among them, slaying and terribly mutilating two
of the bearers of the tree and striking several others to the ground.
The battering ram was instantly dropped, and before the Scotchmen had
time to lift another missile the peasants were beyond their reach.
“Lesson number two,” Malcolm said. “What will our friends do next, I
wonder?”
The peasants were clearly at a loss. A long consultation was held, but
this was not followed by any renewal of the attack.
“I think they must have made up their minds to starve us out, sir,” the
sergeant remarked as the hours went slowly by without any renewal of the
attack.
“Yes; either that, sergeant, or a night attack. In either case I
consider that we are safe for a time, but sooner or later our fate is
sealed unless aid comes to us, and therefore I propose that one of you
should tonight try and bear a message to the Lech. We can lower him down
by the bell rope from this window in the angle where the tower touches
the church. Keeping round by the church he will be in deep shadow until
he reaches the other end, and will then be close to the ruins of the
village. Before morning he could reach our camp.”
“I will undertake it myself, sir, if you will allow me,” the sergeant
said, while the other men also volunteered for the duty.
“You shall try first, sergeant,” Malcolm said. “It will be dangerous
work, for as the news of our being here spreads the peasants will be
coming in from all quarters. Their numbers are already greatly increased
since they commenced the attack, and there must be at least three or
four hundred men around us. They will be sure to keep a sharp lookout
against our escaping, and it will need all your care and caution to get
through them.”
“Never fear, sir,” the man replied confidently. “I have stalked the deer
scores of times, and it will be hard if I cannot crawl through a number
of thick witted Bavarian peasants.”
“Even beyond the village you will have to keep your eyes open, as you
may meet parties of peasants on their way here. Fortunately you will
have no difficulty in keeping the road, so well beaten is it by the
march of the army. If by tomorrow night no rescue arrives I shall
consider that you have been taken or killed, and shall try with the
others to make my way through. It would be better to die sword in hand
while we have still the strength to wield our arms than to be cooped
up here until too weak any longer to defend ourselves, and then to be
slowly tortured to death.”
As soon as it was dusk a sentry was placed on the top of the tower, with
orders to report the slightest sound or stir. During the day this had
not been necessary, for a view could be obtained from the windows, and
the men with firearms, who had now considerably increased in numbers,
kept up a constant fire at the tower.
An hour later the sentry reported that he could hear the sound of many
feet in the darkness, with the occasional snapping as of dry twigs.
“They are going to burn down the door,” Malcolm said. “That is what I
expected. Now, sergeant, is your time. They are all busy and intent upon
their purpose. You could not have a better time.”
The rope was fastened round the sergeant's waist, and with some
difficulty he squeezed himself through the narrow window, after
listening attentively to discover if any were below.
All seemed perfectly still on this side, and he was gradually and
steadily lowered down. Presently those above felt the rope slack.
Another minute and it swung loosely. It was drawn up again, and Malcolm,
placing one of the men at the loophole, with instructions to listen
intently for any sound of alarm or conflict, turned his attention to the
other side.
Soon he saw a number of dark figures bearing on their heads great
bundles which he knew to be faggots approaching across the snow.
As they approached a brisk fire suddenly opened on the tower. Malcolm at
once called the sentry down.
“It is of no use exposing yourself,” he said, “and we could not do much
harm to them did we take to stoning them again. We have nothing to do
now but to wait.”
Soon a series of dull heavy crashes were heard as the faggots were
thrown down against the door. Malcolm descended the stairs until he
reached the lowest loophole which lighted them, and which was a few feet
above the top of the door. He took one of the men with him.
“Here are my flask and bullet pouch,” he said. “Do you reload my pistols
as I discharge them.”
For some minutes the sound of the faggots being thrown down continued,
then the footsteps were heard retreating, and all was quiet again.
“Now it is our turn again,” Malcolm said. “It is one thing to prepare
a fire and another to light it, my fine fellows. I expect that you have
forgotten that there are firearms here.”
Presently a light was seen in the distance, and two men with blazing
brands approached. They advanced confidently until within twenty yards
of the tower, then there was the sharp crack of a pistol, and one of
them fell forward on his face, the other hesitated and stood irresolute,
then, summoning up courage, he sprang forward.
As he did so another shot flashed out, and he, too, fell prostrate, the
brand hissing and spluttering in the snow a few feet from the pile of
brushwood. A loud yell of rage and disappointment arose on the night
air, showing how large was the number of peasants who were watching the
operations. Some time elapsed before any further move was made on the
part of the assailants, then some twenty points of light were seen
approaching.
“Donald,” Malcolm said to the soldier, “go up to the top of the tower
with your comrades. They are sure to light the pile this time, but if
it is only fired in one place you may possibly dash out the light with a
stone.”
The lights rapidly approached, but when the bearers came within forty
yards they stopped. They were a wild group, as, with their unkempt
hair and beards, and their rough attire, they stood holding the lighted
brands above their heads. A very tall and powerful man stood at their
head.
“Come on,” he said, “why do you hesitate? Let us finish with them.” And
he rushed forward.
Malcolm had his pistol lying on the sill of the loophole covering
him, and when the peasant had run ten paces he fired, and the man fell
headlong. The others stopped, and a second shot took effect among them.
With a yell of terror they hurled the brands towards the pile and fled.
Most of the brands fell short, others missed their aim, but from his
loophole Malcolm saw that one had fallen on to the outside faggot of the
pile.
Almost instantly a heavy stone fell in the snow close by, another,
and another. Malcolm stood with his eyes fixed on the brand. The twigs
against which it leaned were catching, and the flames began to shoot up.
Higher and higher they rose, and a shout of triumph from the peasants
told how keenly they were also watching. Still the heavy stones
continued to fall. The flames rose higher, and half the faggot was now
alight. Another minute and the fire would communicate with the pile.
Then there was a crash. A shower of sparks leapt up as the faggot,
struck by one of the heavy stones, was dashed from its place and lay
blazing twenty feet distant from the pile. There it burnt itself out,
and for a time the tower was safe.
For an hour the defenders watched the peasants, who had now lighted
great fires just out of pistol shot from the tower, and were gathered
thickly round them, the light flashing redly from pike head and scythe.
The uproar of voices was loud; but though the defenders guessed that
they were discussing the next plan of attack they could catch no meaning
from such words as reached them, for the patois of the Bavarian
peasants was unintelligible. At last a large number seized brands, some
approached as before towards the pile, the others scattered in various
directions, while the men with muskets again opened fire at the top of
the tower.
Malcolm took his post at the loophole awaiting attack, but the men in
front of him did not advance. Suddenly a light sprang up beneath him.
There was a sound of falling stones, but the light grew brighter and
brighter, and he knew that this time the pile had been fired. As he ran
upstairs he was met by one of the soldiers from above.
“They crept round by the back of the church, sir, and round at the foot
of the tower, and they had fired the pile before we saw that they were
there.”
“It cannot be helped,” Malcolm said, “they were sure to succeed sooner
or later. Call the others down from the roof.”
The door at the top of the stairs was now closed, and the crevices were
stuffed tightly with strips torn from the men's clothes so as to prevent
the smoke from entering when the door below gave way to the flames. A
broad glare of light now lit up the scene, and showers of sparks, and an
occasional tongue of flame were visible through the window.
“Shut down the trapdoor in the roof,” Malcolm said, “that will check the
draught through the windows.”
The wood was dry, and what smoke made its way in through the window
found its way out through the loopholes of the upper chamber without
seriously incommoding those below.
“We can take it easy, now,” Malcolm said as he set the example by
sitting down against the wall. “It will be hours before the stonework
below will be cool enough to permit them to attack.”
“They are lighting a circle of fires all round the church,” one of the
soldiers said looking out.
“They think we shall be trying to escape, now that our door is burned.
They are too late; I trust our messenger is miles away by this time.”
In half an hour the flames died away, but a deep red glow showed that
the pile of embers was still giving out an intense heat. One of the
men was now placed on the top of the tower again, as a measure of
precaution, but it was certain that hours would elapse before an attack
could be made. The peasants, indeed, secure of their prey, evinced
no hurry to commence the attack, but spent the night in shouting and
singing round their fires, occasionally yelling threats of the fate
which awaited them against the defenders of the tower.
Towards daylight Malcolm commenced his preparations for defence. The
door was taken off its hinges and was laid on the stone stairs. These
were but two feet wide, the door itself being some three inches less.
The rope was fastened round its upper end to prevent it from sliding
down.
“I wish we had some grease to pour over it,” Malcolm said, “but dry as
it is it will be next to impossible for anyone to walk up that sharp
incline, and we four should be able to hold it against the peasants till
doomsday.”
It was not until broad daylight that the peasants prepared for the
attack. So long as the operation had been a distant one it had seemed
easy enough, but as in a confused mass they approached the open doorway
they realized that to ascend the narrow staircase, defended at the top
by desperate men, was an enterprise of no common danger, and that the
work which they had regarded as finished was in fact scarcely begun.
The greater part then hung back, but a band of men, who by their
blackened garments and swarthy faces Malcolm judged to be charcoal
burners, armed with heavy axes, advanced to the front, and with an air
of dogged resolution approached the door. The defenders gave no sign of
their presence, no pistol flashed out from window or loophole.
Striding through the still hot ashes the leader of the woodmen passed
through the doorway and advanced up the stairs. These ran in short
straight flights round the tower, lighted by narrow loopholes. No
resistance was encountered until he reached the last turning, where
a broader glare of light came from the open doorway, where two of the
soldiers, pike in hand, stood ready to repel them. With a shout to his
followers to come on, the peasant sprang forward. He ascended three
steps, and then, as he placed his foot upon the sharply inclined
plane of the door, which he had not noticed, he stumbled forward. His
companions, supposing he had been pierced with a spear, pressed on after
him, but each fell when they trod upon the door until a heap of men
cumbered the stair. These were not unharmed, for with their long pikes
the Scottish spearmen ran them through and through as they lay.
Their bodies afforded a foothold to those who followed, but these could
make but little way, for as but one could advance at a time, each as he
came on was slain by the pikes. Finding that two were well able to hold
the door, Malcolm with the other ran up to the top of the tower, and
toppled over the stones of the parapet upon the mass gathered around
the door. These at once scattered, and those on the stairs, finding
themselves unable to get forward, for the narrow passage was now
completely choked with the dead, made their way out again and rejoined
their comrades.
“I expect they will send their musketeers first next time,” Malcolm said
as he rejoined those below, leaving the soldier on the watch. “Now let
us get the door up again, and bring the dead here; we can form a barrier
with them breast high.”
The door was quickly shifted on one side, and then the troopers brought
up the dead, who were eleven in number.
“Now replace the door,” Malcolm ordered; “fill your iron caps with
blood--there is plenty flowing from these fellows--and pour it over the
door, it will be as good as oil.”
This was done, and the bodies were then piled shoulder high across the
door.
“They can fire as much as they like now,” Malcolm said, “they will be no
nearer, and I defy anyone to climb up that door now.”