Of our passing from cloister to castle, and of the burning of the _Vale
Abbey_. Of their siege of the castle, and the exploits of _Brother
Hugo_.
Now, on the next day it was close upon the hour of Lauds, when the
scouts that were set in sight of the château among the thick brushwood
and gorse, came with great haste and told us that the Moors were even
now on their way to us, hoping to catch us unsuspecting at our prayers.
Now we had our orders of Brother Hugo in such a case, and we simply did
what we had done already at his bidding, many times for practice of
safety in an hour of danger. First the great heavy doors of the
monastery were closed, and the bolts drawn, and the bars of iron swung
into place to stay their passage. Then we swiftly gathered up whatever
still was left that was precious or useful--books, vestments, relics,
and sacred vessels had gone already--and by the ringing of a little bell
gathering together all that were now housed with us--a goodly company
indeed it was of old and young--with all due confidence of heart and
mind we proceeded in long line to the Church, which lay from east to
west, forming with high thick walls the northern defence of our
cloister. And as we passed two and two up the choir that morning, the
monks raised with slow and solemn voice their last Miserere in that holy
place, the home of many of them from their boyhood.
But what did the convent at its prayers, as the Moorish host drew near?
This was made clear ere long. For we were to see, we lads, what ne'er
had met our eyes before, the very earth open to save us, and this by no
miracle save man's skill given by God to devise wise and cunning shifts
for those in peril.
Lo! the abbot stood, _in medio chori_, noble and calm, and the sad
strains of Miserere rolled down the aisle. He stood by a stool of oak
that rested there for prayer withal, and ever so lightly touched a
little point of brass, that lay but a speck in the midst of the stone
floor. And as he pressed with his kid shoe a moment, the stone sank
slowly some two fathoms, leaving disclosed a stairway, and a passage
arched overhead with bricks, with a cool and pleasant air therein, that,
rushing up, refreshed our souls.
Then we passed downwards, old and young, and so along the brick passage,
that ran straight eastward, as I guessed to the Vale Castle. And the
abbot stayed till we had all passed through. Then, as he pressed upon
the stone, it slowly rose again to its right level, and looking round I
saw him in like manner cause sundry other stones to drop behind him as
he came. Then letting loose a trap--lo! a very shower of granite blocks
came falling down closing the path behind us with great heaps high as a
man's shoulders.
So, heartening one another with cheery words as we went, we passed
through a little chamber that led straight through the Keep--and so we
were met by Hugo and Bernard, and dispersed each to his right place, as
was meet in such a perilous time.
Now, by favour of Brother Hugo, I stood near and succoured him, and
though in my stormy life I have had fighting and besieging in Normandy,
Brittany, Touraine, and here in England, never have I seen such prowess
and such strength as I saw in Brother Hugo.
Thus, by his favour, I was ere long on the south bastion that overlooked
the gate of the Castle. There was but one gate by Cherbourg's design,
and that a small one for so great a place, and yet, what need of
greater? The larger hole surely that a rat's home hath the easier to
find the rat, and rabbiting were easier were the burrow a yard in
circuit. So Cherbourg built Vale gate not for state but for use, to pass
men through, not foes but friends, and it was clamped with well-hammered
iron, and secured by ponderous bars and bolts.
From the rampart we looked southward, and saw away by the cloister gates
the black swarm of the Sarrasin. We saw them nearer by-and-by. But now
they stood before the gate, and seemed as they would hold parley with
those that they thought to be within. But they heard naught, and saw
naught through trap or grating. Then must they have thought the brethren
were in hiding, or maybe stayed in the church to meet death at prayer,
as good monks have chosen to do ere this, preferring so with calm hope
to pass to God than in a useless struggle, for which He framed them not.
For a young tree was rooted up, and with its full weight, rammed by a
troop of knaves against the gate. And though it stood the charge not
once, nor twice, nor thrice indeed, at length with the rush and weight
of many men behind it, it charged with such a force that the great gate
fell with a sound that we could hear in the still morning, and in a
moment the barbarous swarms were over it, and ready to work their will
in cloister and house of prayer.
It was a sore moment, and one to make the strongest set their teeth hard
together, when we saw through the trees a little curl of smoke wreathe
itself up in the calm air, and then smoke more dense, and still more
dense to follow, and then the bright red tongues of flame leaping and
dancing as though in ungrateful glee o'er the ruin of the home of men
who did no harm, but only good.
"They will soon be here, lad," said Hugo, beside me on the wall. "Let us
say, 'Sursum corda.'"
"Ay, 'ad Dominum,'" I answered bravely.
Now, these were our sign and countersign for our holy war that day. And
just then word came from the north-east bastion that the Moors were
already in their boats, and rowing to the Castle, with ladder and rope
on board, a round hundred or so of the knaves, hoping to catch us asleep
in the rear, while we met the foe in front, and order was given that at
once we be prepared to discharge plenty of stones, and to shoot our
ignited darts down on them from the height. There was no sign yet of the
foe in front, so we went to the seaward wall, whither the boats drew
near. Now, Hugo himself sent forth the first stones, but the boats were
yet too far, and the balls but struck the waves, and made them spurt up
fountains of foam.
Yet the rogues seemed surprised and scared at our being so ready with
defence, and they stayed a moment ere they came within range of our
armoury. Then at a signal of command they all rowed straight forward.
They hoped out of so many some would get through. See! A very hail of
stones and rocky fragments, and a very shower of fiery arrows, each one
a deadly comet as it falls! They descend on the swift-rowed boats. They
fall as they will without mercy on man or thwart. The devils shriek out
and drop their oars, and writhe horribly when they are hit. And some
with bold hands sweep them out of their craft.
In one boat some three fire-darts fell, and while the rogues struggled
among themselves to escape burning, a worse thing happened, for the dry
wood within sprang into flame, and no dowsing of the water could put the
fire out, till the waves rushed in and swamped her in a moment, and the
crew of some ten souls were struggling in the water. None of the rest
essayed to save them; they were already overburdened, and had their own
work to escape damage.
I know not whether they retired, or whether, landing hard by, they
swelled the main attack, which as I write had already begun. For Hugo
had left me to speed the manage of the balls, and when he called me
again I saw a new sight in front of the great southwestern bastion.
The Moors were gathered in force indeed, and an evil crew, evil
equipped, and in evil order they were. Each within a little his own
general as we first viewed them, each his own envoy to shoot forth to us
on the walls foul and blasphemous words, that shamed us to hear: "Come
forth, ye foul rats of the cloister; come and be spitted here on the
ground." "Spear or fire, greasy monks, which choose ye, or a spit to
roast your fat carcases by the flame." "Good Michael, send us, prithee,
thine envoy hither; see us deck him with fair traps for thine
entertainment"
In such wise they ranted and railed before us, but naught was said in
answer, nor, as they doubtless hoped, did they draw us to think of
leaving our fastness for the open. No word was spoken. No arrow was
shot. Nor was a ball thrown yet.
But the number of the villains! Stretching back across the common,
well-nigh to the cloister, and seeming even still to be pouring down
from the woods. Ah me! What a black hell of sin lay 'neath those faces,
like an ugly, stormy sea below us, and what a motley of lost souls of
every race. Dark Moors were there in plenty, with rich dress and shining
mail; black Africans with blubber lips and mats of furzy hair; sleek
Jews slithering in and out the groups, inciting to devil's work; figures
of nobles and gentlemen of France or Espagne, dishonoured and merged in
the depth of the lowest scum there present; great Saxon churls and
Danes, standing stern and resolute, but barbarous, as lions in the ranks
of jackals and wolves!