Of the sore slaughter in the glen of _Moulin Huet_ and on the shore; and
how _Le Grand Sarrasin_ was slain, and of his secret.
At last we reached the head of the glen, and far down below us we saw
the blue water of the bay, enclosed on either side with its great rocky
bulwarks. And a great portion of the Sarrasin ships were there at anchor
as near shore as they might safely lie. And there were many little boats
pulling in to take the runaways aboard.
Helter-skelter they went down the rugged, winding path, jostling their
fellows with knee and shoulder, hand and heel, as they slammed on their
way. Le Grand Sarrasin we saw not, and guessed for the moment that he
was already aboard. But when we came in sight of the bay, not long we
stood in hesitation, but with a shout and a cry that rang terribly as it
echoed from rock to rock, we rushed madly after, spreading our force
along the side of the cliff as our fellows pressed on us behind.
We too were carried on like a mad torrent that could not stay itself,
and in the front we cut furiously with our swords at the tail of their
long line whenever chance was afforded. Not many so we slew, but a
number tripped over in the rush were trampled underfoot, or threw
themselves in the streamlet's bed, wherein afterwards they were speedily
slain.
But an end came at last to that mad descent, and all-quivering and
furious, we landed on the shore. We stayed a moment till a great troop
was round us, every moment swelling as the laggards came up, thirsting
to have a lot in so great a matter, and then with a mighty charge, that
our foes scarce essayed to meet, we drove them before us into the sea.
Ay! in that deadly rush, with swinging steel and echoing cry like angels
of great Heaven's power, we swept them like some unclean stuff off our
island's face into the water. There was great slaughter all along the
bay. Some climbing into boats were knifed behind; some half-drowned in
the water we cut to pieces; some, but poor swimmers, never reached their
ships; and more than one boat capsized, being overfull of raging and
infuriated men.
A little remnant speedily entrenched themselves amid the rugged
boulders, and smarting as they were with wild and bitter rage, we left
them in their fortress, till one of the ships espying them, a boat was
sent amid the rocks that they climbed towards and entered safely without
hindrance from us. These and the few that swam, and the few that escaped
in boats, and some that hid themselves in cave or brake, and afterwards
escaped, were the scanty sum of that bodyguard of Le Grand Geoffroy that
got to their ships.
The rest lay on the road, or in the water-way, or here where the shore
met the white roll of the surf, in great heaps that the waves played
with, as they rolled up and ran back dyed with blood. So we islanders of
Guernsey and Brethren of the Vale dealt with one-half of the pirates'
force, while good Samson d'Anville did likewise with the other half as
they fled to the Grand Havre.
It was when we at last rested from this sad work of slaughter that I
looked up to the clear sky, since earth and sea seemed all defiled with
blood, and lo! there on the spur of land that divideth the Bay of Moulin
Huet from the Bay of All Saints, high up on the top, with his form
outlined against the sky, sat Le Grand Sarrasin on his Arabian steed. I
showed him in a moment to Hugo.
"Fools that we be," cried he, "that stain our hands in this foul work
upon these paltry runaways, while he, the chief cause of these men's
offending, still goes free!"
"See," I said, "the monster gazes down on the downfall of his lieges,
and sees them die without a care!"
"Ay, for he knows," said Hugo, "there is plenty of evil men in the world
for him still to lead."
With that Hugo picked out some twenty of his most trusted men and bade
us follow him.
So we started up the cliff side by a little path that wound upward amid
the gorse. And still all the time as we toiled with foot and hand at
climbing, upon the summit sat the Sarrasin, as though with a proud air
deriding our attack.
"Whom seek you, good gentlemen?" he cried to us as we climbed below.
"A vile knave and caitiff!" Hugo cried back.
"He hath not passed this way," shouted the Sarrasin, "so lose not your
labour, good sirs, at this boys' play of climbing."
"It is not boys' play down yonder!" returned Hugo. "Oh, villain, cursed
villain, we will mete you the same measure!"
"Then you must rival my Pearl of Seville!" he cried, just galloping
lightly away as we landed on the summit.
So he had got away to some secret place, of which there were so many on
the coast, had he not met full-tilt a strong band of the Normans that
were even now on the road, being sent down by Samson to see that we were
not worsted.
These he met tramping to Moulin Huet Bay, and, wheeling hastily at the
sight of them, found us behind him. Like a spent hare that runs into a
hole, he spurred to the house at Blanchelande that lay at the head of
All Saints' Bay, and we that followed at a run heard his beast clatter
over the drawbridge of the moat. We rolled a great stone on to the
bridge that none could draw it up, and, with the Normans following
behind, pursued him into his cover. The good steed stood riderless
before the gate. With all our weight we burst the door, and ran in a
great body into the hall wherein I had visited my Lord of Rouen.
No man was to be seen therein, and for a while we stood at fault,
Normans and islanders alike, and then went through the house, battering
with lusty strokes, that echoed again, every part of wall or wainscot
that might afford concealment.
Had all our struggle been for naught, and would the arch-villain escape
us thus? We came back to the great hall, and stood therein while our
followers ran riot in the house. I took up, as we stood by my lord's
table, that very curious box or optic-glass, wherein he showed me far
things brought close, and curiously raised it to my eyes, and gazed down
upon the bay. It was brought wondrous clear, and the waves seemed
dancing before mine eyes. Suddenly I saw what made me drop the glass,
and hastily drag Hugo with me out of the house. The glass showed me the
Sarrasin stealing along the shadows of the glen downwards to where a
little boat lay moored by the rocks.
We tracked him like a quarry; and ere long he knew we were behind him,
and hasted, sore hindered with his great bulky body, to the shore. There
we overtook him, and at once he faced us, and made with his sword a
great lunge at Hugo that well-nigh took his life. But even so, Hugo was
quick with his parry, and kept him at fence.
"This is no fair fight 'twixt man and man, false monk!" cried the
Sarrasin, as I had a stroke at his undefended side, so hot was I for his
blood.
"Stand off, good Nigel," sang out Hugo. "None shall say I beat him by
foul means."
With this, after sundry passes that came to naught, he drove his good
sword straight into his enemy's side; for, indeed, Geoffroy was wild in
his swordplay, and left openings clear to a cool man.
Le Grand Sarrasin rolled heavily on the sand, and we knew that never
again would the pirates gather head to harm our island.
"Had I but gained the ship," he howled, "I would have been duke yet."
Now this was the last he said, for a great spurt of blood coming from
his side, he raised himself a moment on his arm, and then fell back upon
the sand.
We knew not what face of horror we should gaze upon as we essayed to
pull the helm from the head of Le Grand Sarrasin, that never showed his
face to men.
The helm came off in our hands. It was no hideous countenance that it
had masked, nor did we fear to gaze on it in death.
It was the face of my Lord Archbishop of Rouen, whom I had visited in
his house hard by, and whom I had seen disguised in Normandy, that I now
plainly saw.
Where, then, was Le Grand Sarrasin? Le Grand Sarrasin had been none
other than this exiled man, that among the most evil of mankind had
sought to raise a power that might one day overthrow William himself.
And in this ruin of his glory, achieved by grace of Heaven through our
hands, Le Grand Sarrasin was brought to naught.
"Thou knowest who this was?" said Hugo, calmly.
"Ay, well I know," I said.
"Thou and I alone know this dark thing," he said. "Is it well that it
should enter into men's mouths and minds?"
"Thou knowest best, Hugo," I said.
"Then," said he, "I say it were well for the Church of God, and for
men's love of honour, and for truth and righteousness, that none know
but ourselves this dead man's secret. Let him die Le Grand Sarrasin, a
heathen Moor and no baptized Norman."
"But Maugher will be missed," I said.
"Yea; and a meeter tale than this will serve," said Hugo. "A false step,
a squall at sea--anything but _this_." He pointed to the body. "Wilt
thou keep silence?"
"If it be thy will," I said.
"Assist me, then," said Hugo.
So we dragged the body of the exile a short way over some rocks, whose
black bases the deep water washed upon, and weighting it with some great
stones, pushed it into the dark deeps. Thence none would raise him again
to discover what manner of face wore Le Grand Sarrasin; and none would
guess it was no dark visage of the south, but the face of an evil
traitor, so much the more evil that he was called by the two high names
Norman and Christian. There shall he lie till the great blare of
Heaven's trump call good and ill to judgment.