The situation of Cedric and the Black Knight was now truly dangerous and
would have been still more so but for the constancy of the archers in
the barbican, who ceased not to shower their arrows on the battlements,
distracting the attention of those by whom they were manned and thus
affording a respite to their two chiefs from the storm of missiles,
which must otherwise have overwhelmed them. But their situation was
eminently perilous, and was becoming more so with every moment.
"Shame on ye all!" cried De Bracy to the soldiers around him; "do ye
call yourselves cross-bowmen and let these two dogs keep their station
under the walls of the castle? Heave over the coping stones from the
battlement, an better may not be. Get pick-ax and levers and down with
that huge pinnacle!" pointing to a heavy piece of stone-carved work that
projected from the parapet.
At this moment Locksley whipped up the courage of his men.
"Saint George for England!" he cried. "To the charge, bold yeomen! Why
leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric to storm the pass alone? Make
in, yeomen! The castle is taken. Think of honor; think of spoil. One
effort and the place is ours."
With that he bent his good bow and sent a shaft right through the breast
of one of the men-at-arms, who, under De Bracy's direction, was
loosening a fragment from one of the battlements to precipitate on the
heads of Cedric and the Black Knight. A second soldier caught from the
hands of the dying man the iron crow, with which he had heaved up and
loosened the stone pinnacle, when, receiving an arrow through his
headpiece, he dropped from the battlement into the moat a dead man. The
men-at-arms were daunted, for no armor seemed proof against the shot of
this tremendous archer.
"Do you give ground, base knaves?" cried De Bracy. "[v]_Mountjoy Saint
Dennis_! Give me the lever."
Snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened pinnacle, which was of
weight enough, if thrown down, not only to have destroyed the remnant of
the drawbridge, which sheltered the two foremost assailants, but also to
have sunk the rude float of planks over which they had crossed. All saw
the danger, and the boldest, even the stout friar himself, avoided
setting a foot on the raft. Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against
De Bracy, and thrice did his arrow bound back from the knight's armor of
proof.
"Curse on thy Spanish steel-coat!" said Locksley; "had English smith
forged it, these arrows had gone through it as if it had been silk." He
then began to call out: "Comrades! friends! noble Cedric! bear back and
let the ruin fall."
His warning voice was unheard, for the din which the Black Knight
himself occasioned by his strokes upon the postern would have drowned
twenty war-trumpets. The faithful Gurth indeed sprang forward on the
planked bridge to warn Cedric of his impending fate, or to share it with
him. But his warning would have come too late; the massive pinnacle
already tottered, and De Bracy, who still heaved at his task, would have
accomplished it, had not the voice of the Templar sounded close in his
ear.
"All is lost, De Bracy; the castle burns."
"Thou art mad to say so," replied the knight.
"It is all in a light flame on the western side," returned
Bois-Guilbert. "I have striven in vain to extinguish it."
"What is to be done?" cried De Bracy. "I vow to Saint Nicholas of
Limoges a candlestick of pure gold--"
"Spare thy vow," said the Templar, "and mark me. Lead thy men down, as
if to a sally; throw the postern-gate open. There are but two men who
occupy the float; fling them into the moat and push across to the
barbican. I will charge from the main gate and attack the barbican on
the outside. If we can regain that post, we shall defend ourselves until
we are relieved or, at least, until they grant us fair quarter."
"It is well thought upon," replied De Bracy; "I will play my part."
De Bracy hastily drew his men together and rushed down to the
postern-gate, which he caused instantly to be thrown open. Scarce was
this done ere the portentous strength of the Black Knight forced his
way inward in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two of the foremost
instantly fell, and the rest gave way, notwithstanding all their
leader's efforts to stop them.
"Dogs!" cried De Bracy; "will ye let two men win our only pass for
safety?"
"He is the devil!" replied a veteran man-at-arms, bearing back from the
blows of their sable antagonist.
"And if he be the devil," said De Bracy, "would you fly from him into
the mouth of hell? The castle burns behind us, villains! Let despair
give you courage, or let me forward. I will cope with this champion
myself."
And well and chivalrously did De Bracy that day maintain the fame he had
acquired in the civil wars of that dreadful period. The vaulted passages
in which the two redoubted champions were now fighting hand to hand rang
with the furious blows they dealt each other, De Bracy with his sword,
the Black Knight with his ponderous ax. At length the Norman received a
blow, which, though its force was partly parried by his shield,
descended yet with such violence on his crest that he measured his
length on the paved floor.
"Yield thee, De Bracy," said the Black Knight, stooping over him and
holding against the bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which
knights despatched their enemies; "yield thee, Maurice de Bracy, rescue
or no rescue, or thou art but a dead man. Speak!"
The gallant Norman, seeing the hopelessness of further resistance,
yielded, and was allowed to rise.
"Let me tell thee what it imports thee to know," he said. "Wilfred of
Ivanhoe is wounded and a prisoner, and will perish in the burning castle
without present help."
"Wilfred of Ivanhoe!" exclaimed the Black Knight. "The life of every man
in the castle shall answer if a hair of his head be singed. Show me his
chamber!"
"Ascend yonder stair," directed De Bracy. "It leads to his apartment."
The turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from
window and shot-hole. But, in other parts, the great thickness of the
walls and the vaulted roofs of the apartments resisted the progress of
the fire, and there the rage of man still triumphed; for the besiegers
pursued the defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber. Most of the
garrison resisted to the uttermost; few of them asked quarter--none
received it. The air was filled with groans and the clashing of arms.
Through this scene of confusion the Black Knight rushed in quest of
Ivanhoe, whom he found in Rebecca's charge. The knight, picking up the
wounded man as if he were a child, bore him quickly to safety. In the
meantime, Cedric had gone in search of Rowena, followed by the faithful
Gurth. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to reach his ward's
apartment just as she had abandoned all hope of safety and sat in
expectation of instant death. He committed her to the charge of Gurth,
to be carried without the castle. The loyal Cedric then hastened in
quest of his friend Athelstane, determined at every risk to himself to
save the prince. But ere Cedric penetrated as far as the old hall in
which he himself had been a prisoner, the inventive genius of Wamba had
procured liberation for himself and his companion.
When the noise of the conflict announced that it was at the hottest, the
jester began to shout with the utmost power of his lungs, "Saint George
and the Dragon! Bonny Saint George for merry England! The castle is
won!" These sounds he rendered yet more fearful by banging against each
other two or three pieces of rusty armor which lay scattered around the
hall.
The guards at once ran to tell the Templar that foemen had entered the
old hall. Meantime the prisoners found no difficulty in making their
escape into the court of the castle, which was now the last scene of the
contest. Here sat the fierce Templar, mounted on horseback and
surrounded by several of the garrison, who had united their strength in
order to secure the last chance of safety and retreat which remained to
them. The principal, and now the single remaining drawbridge, had been
lowered by his orders, but the passage was beset; for the archers, who
had hitherto only annoyed the castle on that side by their missiles, no
sooner saw the flames breaking out and the bridge lowered than they
thronged to the entrance. On the other hand, a party of the besiegers
who had entered by the postern on the opposite side were now issuing
into the court-yard and attacking with fury the remnant of the defenders
in the rear.
Animated, however, by despair and the example of their gallant leader,
the remaining soldiers of the castle fought with the utmost valor; and,
being well armed, they succeeded in driving back the assailants.
Crying aloud, "Those who would save themselves, follow me!"
Bois-Guilbert pushed across the drawbridge, dispersing the archers who
would have stopped them. He was followed by the Saracen slaves and some
five or six men-at-arms, who had mounted their horses. The Templar's
retreat was rendered perilous by the number of arrows shot at him and
his party; but this did not prevent him from galloping round to the
barbican, where he expected to find De Bracy.
"De Bracy!" he shouted, "art thou there?"
"I am here," answered De Bracy, "but a prisoner."
"Can I rescue thee?" cried Bois-Guilbert.
"No," said the other. "I have rendered myself."
Upon hearing this, the Templar galloped off with his followers, leaving
the besiegers in complete possession of the castle.
Fortunately, by this time all the prisoners had been rescued and stood
together without the castle, while the yeomen ran through the apartments
seeking to save from the devouring flames such valuables as might be
found. They were soon driven out by the fiery element. The towering
flames surmounted every obstruction and rose to the evening skies one
huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide through the adjacent country.
Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof and rafter.
The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed with wonder not unmixed
with fear upon the flames, in which their own ranks and arms glanced
dusky red. The voice of Locksley was at length heard, "Shout, yeomen!
the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil to the tree in
Hart-hill Walk, for there we will make just partition among ourselves,
together with our worthy allies in this great deed of vengeance."