At that moment, when Roy would have surrendered his life to have rung
out an alarm, the signal of danger, treachery, and hopeless disaster
rang out in the form of a shot from the battlements overhead, and this
was followed by another and another. But as the prisoner was hurried
into the open air, armed men seemed to be gliding out of the darkness on
all sides, their source, as far as he could make out in those agitated
moments, being the bases of the towers. Then, as the trumpet rang out,
fighting began all around the castle at once, not from the outside, but
from within. Men had evidently crept silently up to the four towers,
and gathered there from the corridors to which they had been admitted;
and at the sound of the trumpet, a simultaneous attack was made, which,
coming from the unguarded rear, and in tremendous, constantly increasing
force, could not fail of being successful.
Roy stood there in the midst of his mother's once pleasant garden, with
the stars glinting over his head, and guarded by half-a-dozen troopers,
listening to the clash of steel, and the firing going on all round where
the little garrison made desperate efforts to maintain themselves. But
they could not even grow stronger by joining, for the occupants of each
tower were isolated and driven back as they tried to communicate with
their officers, who, at the first alarm, tried to lead the men in the
guard-room to the gathering point selected in case of emergency. Ben
had just lit his lantern, expecting the coming of Roy at twelve, when
the first shot came; and, shouting an alarm, he drew his sword to dash
out, but only to be hurled back, the door-way of the guard-room being
blocked by men; while, when the occupants of the chambers beneath the
platforms of each tower tried to descend, they, too, in spite of
desperate efforts, were driven upward by the constantly arriving
enemies, who forced them on to the leads by the now useless guns.
Here, in each case, a desperate encounter went on, which Roy, with his
blood running cold, was able to mentally picture, as he stood there
listening to the wild shouts of the attacking party, the defiant cries
of the garrison--the mere handfuls of men who tried to hold their own.
There was no more firing: all was being done with the keen-edged naked
blade for a few minutes; and this was followed by a wild despairing cry
from the gate tower, and directly after there was a dull, sickening
crash which told that a man had been hurled from the parapet into the
court-yard, where he lay never to move again.
The shock of this was succeeded by others nearly as terrible, as the
struggle went on at the tops of the different towers; and cry after cry
arose, followed by heavy splash after splash, which, Roy interpreted
rightly, meant that the victors were driving the defenders over the
battlements into the moat, to sink or swim for life as they could.
A mad feeling of rage and despair seized upon the boy as he heard all
this, and he struggled desperately with his captors in his endeavours to
escape, and try to aid the poor fellows fighting to the death in their
vain efforts to defend the place.
Vain, too, were his efforts; for a couple of men held him while others
wrenched his arms behind his back, and tearing off his gay scarf, bound
his elbows so tightly together that he could not stir, but had to listen
helplessly to the yells and despairing cries that arose towards the
silent vault of heaven.
It seemed to Roy like an hour of horror, during which he was listening
to what seemed to be the massacre of the men, every one of whom he
looked upon as a friend. But it was only a matter of a few minutes at
the most, before a shout rang out from the top of the gate tower, to be
answered with a burst of wild "hurrahs" from the four corners, and the
ramparts as well; for the clashing of swords, the yells of rage, and the
sounds of fierce and desperate struggles going on had ceased.
Roy's despair was at its height; he knew that the castle was taken, and
its defenders killed, hurled into the moat, or captive.
But the boy's sinking heart gave one leap, for he knew that the
flickering fire of defence blazed up in one spot, and that was in the
guard-room, where he calculated that there must be twelve or fourteen
men, with Ben Martlet, Farmer Raynes, and the corporal.
He was nearly right to a man. There were, including their officers,
twelve men penned up in the big stone chamber, where they had plenty of
arms and ammunition. The others had their quarters in the five chambers
in the towers, and were stationed as sentinels. All these had been
accounted for, save the wounded men in hospital.
And as Roy listened to the hurrying tramp of feet, there was gathering
silence on the ramparts, while around him, in the court-yard, hundreds
of men were united and drawn up in line.
Then, in the darkness beneath the gate-way, Roy heard a commanding voice
call upon the men in the guard-room to surrender.
"What?" came out clearly in a harsh, snarling voice, which Roy hardly
knew as Ben's. "Do what?"
"Surrender, my man! The place is taken."
"Yes, by cowardly treachery, Ben," yelled Roy, desperately. "Don't give
in. Fight to the last."
A man came hurrying up, and the secretary, fierce with passion, stood
before him.
"If this boy dares to speak another word, ram a gag in his mouth.--No,
not yet.--Here, bring him up to the gate."
Roy was half pushed and dragged to the great archway, and, as he reached
it, the clock chimed the quarter after midnight.
"Now, general," cried Pawson, "we'll have them out. It's not worth
while to waste good men's lives to tear a set of mad rats out of their
hole."
"Well, get them out," said the same commanding voice, and in the officer
a short distance from him, Roy recognised the one he had met with the
flag of truce.
"Now, then, if you value your life," snarled Pawson in the boy's ear,
"order those fools to come out before we blow them to pieces with a keg
of powder. Do you hear? Come forward and speak!"
Roy felt a fierce desire to spit in the traitor's face, but he mastered
himself and stepped forward.
"Ah, you've come to your senses, then," said Pawson. "Lucky for you, my
popinjay. Now, then, tell them to surrender."
"Why?" said Roy, spitefully. "They don't know what it means."
"Speak!" cried Pawson; and he pricked the lad with the point of his
sword.
Roy in those terrible moments had to fight hard to be dignified, as he
felt he ought to be, before the enemy; but the desire was strong upon
him, when he felt a slight prick in the side from the keen point of the
sword, to turn round and kick his aggressor with all his might.
Then he spoke.
"Sergeant Martlet, corporal, Farmer Raynes, all of you, I'm a prisoner,
and can't help myself. There are two or three hundred men here. Can
you hear me?"
"Ay, ay, sir; go on," cried Ben.
"They bid me tell you to surrender. What do you say?"
"Let 'em come and make us. God save her ladyship and the king!"
"Hurrah!" came rolling back from nearly a dozen lusty throats, and was
followed by a shout from Ben.
"Get back, Master Roy; we're going to fire."
"Then fire," cried Roy. "Never mind me now."
Another cheer followed this; and there was a rattling noise which Roy
interpreted, for he knew that the men in the guard-room had seized the
pikes from the rack, and that a bristling hedge of steel was being
formed in the door-way.
Just then the officer in command stepped forward.
"Silence there!" he cried, in a loud clear voice. "Listen to me, my
men. The castle is taken, and I have four hundred men here. You are
the only defenders left.--Sergeant Martlet, I suppose you are an old
soldier, and if so, you know this boy's words are madness. Enough men
have perished, and I should be sorry to add your party to those who have
made so brave a defence. Come, you have all done your duty, and your
case is hopeless; surrender, and you shall suffer no harm."
"When my captain tells me--not before."
"Well spoken, and like a brave man," said the officer; and he turned to
Roy.
"Now, captain," he said, and there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice,
"you don't want those stout fellows shot down, or smothered like rats in
their holes. Tell them to give up their arms and come out."
"To a set of cowards who attacked us as you did with the help of that
treacherous dog!" cried Roy, passionately. "No!"
"Hurrah!" was shouted from the guard-room door and Farmer Raynes roared
out:
"Well said, Master Roy; we'll beat 'em yet."
"Take that boy away," cried the officer; and Roy was dragged to one
side, where he heard the speaker again bid the party surrender; but only
received a shout of defiance in reply.
A few short, sharp orders followed; and Roy quivered with passion as he
saw from the brightening sparks that a party of men who tramped forward
were blowing the matches of their firelocks.
An order followed, and a ragged volley was fired in at the door, which
was answered by a cheer, and directly after by half-a-dozen shots and
some confusion among the attacking party, for two men staggered back and
fell groaning upon the stones.
The officer stamped his foot.
"Pikes and swords," he cried; and in obedience to his orders a little
column of a score of men dashed forward and tried to enter, thrusting in
their pikes; and as many as could get to the door striving desperately,
but only to be beaten back, and their discomfiture increased by a few
more shots.
The attack was resumed with fresh men again and again, but the defenders
fought desperately, and in every case the attacking party were driven
back with several men badly wounded.
"Block the place up and starve them out," said Pawson.
"No," said the officer sternly. "The work must be done at once.
Powder," he cried to a couple of men near him, and a party marched off.
After a short delay, during which Roy looked vainly round for the
secretary, the latter appeared again with the men, one of whom bore a
keg. To this a piece of fuse was attached ready for lighting, and the
officer walked to Roy's side.
"Look here, youngster," he said. "I shall stand at nothing to complete
the reduction of this nest. You see that keg of powder. If these men
do not surrender at once, I shall treat them as desperate vermin and
blast them out or bury them, with perhaps half the tower upon their
heads. It rests with you whether I shall kill a dozen or so of brave
men or spare them. Which is it to be?"
Roy was silent.
"Come," said the officer, "I want to be merciful now. You are Sir
Granby Royland's son. He is a brave soldier, though mistaken in
defending a tyrant. I tell you that when a cause is hopeless he would
act as I ask you to do. Now you have well proved your courage, and you
spoke before in the rage of defeat. Speak now as a brave officer who
would not willingly sacrifice his men. What do you say?"
Roy said nothing, for his heart swelled with emotion, and the words
would not come. The officer came closer, so that none other could hear.
"In God's name, boy," he whispered, "don't force me to do this brutal
act; I ask you as the son of a brave soldier. Tell them to surrender
now."
The way in which these words came to Roy's ear achieved that which no
threats or insult would have done. It was an enemy speaking, but
something told him that he was a brave soldier too; and without another
word Roy stepped up to the door-way, from whence a mistaken shot might
have laid him low.