THE SECOND ASSAULT ON THE CASTLE.
The swarthy Heinrich, summoned once again by bugle blast to the gate top
of the castle, seeing there a man with white flag, heard with amazement
that the high and honourable Archbishops did not wish to be incommoded
by his catapult practice and the incoming inconvenience of the lumps of
stone, and were, therefore, willing themselves to forego the bombarding
of the castle from that point, if he would promise not to fling rounded
granite again into the deliberations of the mighty Lords aforesaid.
Heinrich, casting a glance over his shoulder at the heights of
Bieldenburg, scarcely believing that men pretending knowledge of war and
siege would so easily forego so great an opportunity as the heights
afforded them for the annoyance of the castle, not to mention the
destruction which might be caused by the falling of stone on the roofs
inside the walls, readily gave his consent to put the catapult of the
north tower out of action--a promise which he duly kept in the letter,
if not quite in the spirit, as will be seen when this history has
somewhat farther extended itself.
So great, however, was his distrust of humanity in general, and the
Archbishops in particular, that he did not remove his catapult from the
north tower to some part of the battlements where it could make its
influence felt on the invaders, but kept it there idle, expecting that
their Lordships would, when they came to realise the advantages of the
situation, forthwith break their word, which, it is pleasant to record,
they never did. The incident of the white flag and its mission
encouraged Heinrich mightily, for small as was his respect for his
assailants before, it was less now. They might easily have shifted their
tents farther back, while he could not remove the castle, nor eliminate
the Bieldenburg, and thus they possessed a notable natural advantage
over him which they had recklessly bargained away, getting practically
nothing in exchange. The Black Count walked up and down gleefully
rubbing his hands together, communing with himself, for he was not a man
to run and share his satisfaction with another. This was but the first
day of the siege, yet he had enjoyed a victory in diplomacy, a victory
in battle and a victory in bargaining, and in pluming himself thereon he
quite overlooked the fact, as mankind is prone to do, that in none of
the three cases was the merit due to himself, but to the actions of
others.
There were to be no more pleasant breakfasts on the top of the south
tower, it being within the range of possibility that a crossbow bolt
might find its way thither, so the two ladies of the castle could not be
permitted to run the chance of such an eventuality. Heinrich, however,
beginning at that late day to show some human interest in his family,
arranged that they should eat together in the great hall. Here he took
the head of the table, with his wife and Tekla on one side, while
Rodolph occupied a seat on the other. The archer had proved himself no
less expert with cooking utensils than with the bow, and on the promise
of an extra penny a day, willingly prepared their meals, which were
carried in by two men-at-arms, who proved, at first, clumsy waiters
compared with the neat and deft-handed Hilda. These meals, however, were
anything but cheerful functions, for the Count and his wife rarely broke
silence, and although some conversation passed between Rodolph and
Tekla, it was overshadowed by the continual gloom that sat on the brow
of their taciturn host.
Watch was set for the night, as evening fell once more upon the valley,
and again the hundreds of camp fires glowed in the darkness, while up
from the tented plain, in the still air, came the singing of familiar
songs, deep-throated bass mingling with soprano and tenor, the harmony
mellowed by distance, sounding sweet in the ears of the beleaguered. The
songs for the most part were those the Crusade had brought forth, and
the words, while often warlike, even more frequently told of Christ and
his influence on the world. They were the songs which had stirred the
sentiment of the nation and had caused so many to go forth to battle for
the rescue of the true sepulchre from infidel hands. Militant marching
tunes mingled with other sadder strains which mourned the nonreturn of
friends from the Death Plains of the crimson East.
In the morning the circling army was early astir, displaying an energy
not less remarkable than it had exhibited on the previous day. It was
evident that an attack of some kind was contemplated, and those within
the castle had not long to wait before the design was disclosed. A line
of men, probably numbering a thousand, was drawn up at the foot of the
hill extending between the village of Alken and the castle, from the
north of the Thaurand valley far towards the west. The warriors stood
about, or sat down, or sprawled at full length on the ground, as suited
each soldier's fancy, and apparently waited the word of command which
their officers, standing on the alert, would give when some signal was
shown or sounded. The few sentinels on watch along the eastern wall of
the castle gave warning that a like company of men was crawling up the
steep slopes of the Thaurand through the forest, but little heed was
given to them, as the eastern sides of the castle were so high that no
man could easily win to the top with any ladder the besiegers might
construct, and if they attempted such scaling, the guards at the top
would have no difficulty in dislodging the ladders with their pikes and
lances. The line near Alken rested out of reach of catapult-stones, but
in a measure only. Although the catapult which Heinrich at once set in
operation, could not hurl a stone directly on their line, yet the balls
of granite rolled down the hill with irresistible force, and while the
men were inclined at first to hail these missiles with shouts of
merriment, dancing this way and that to avoid them, several standing
with legs widespread allowing the projectiles to pass between their
feet, yet now and then a hurling stone would take an unexpected leap in
the air and double up a man, whose laughter was heard no more. After
some moments of eruptive activity on the part of the castle the soldiers
were compelled to treat the efforts of the enemy with respect, while the
officers moved their men in extended order, so decreasing the danger
from the catapults.
Presently there emerged from the forest, in front of the gate, twoscore
or more of men in complete armour. They advanced to the great oaken log
which had proved so disastrous to their comrades the day before.
Crossbow bolts now flew again from the wood, but a wholesome fear of the
archer on the tower kept the bowmen from showing themselves. The men in
armour with some difficulty lifted the heavy log to their shoulders, and
as they advanced towards the gate, Surrey's arrows glancing
ineffectually from their protected bodies, a bugle call rang out over
the valley. Instantly the men at the bottom of the hill gave a great
cheer and charged up the slope, treading down the vines, while others
behind them carried scaling ladders of a length suitable for the long
low front of Thuron. Those at the catapults now worked like madmen, and
their efforts told heavily on the advancing army, whose movement,
laborious because of the steepness of the hill, the feet of the men
entangled in the tenacious, trailing vines, was once or twice checked in
the ascent, but they always rallied with a cheer, under the
encouragement of their officers, and set their faces to the task before
them with renewed energy.
The archer on the tower desisted from his fruitless efforts against the
men in armour, and now turned his attention to the unprotected horde
climbing the hill, and although every arrow did execution, the stormers
were in such multitude that his skill had no effect in checking the
advance.
The Black Count strode from catapult to catapult, alternately cursing
and encouraging the workers. Rodolph, now in full armour, commanded a
body of men who stood on the battlements with axes on their shoulders,
ready to spring forward when ladders were planted. The twoscore with
their battering ram threw down their bulky burden at the gate, and
endeavoured to put it to its use, but it was soon evident they could not
hold the position they had won. Besides, they were unaccustomed to the
weight and awkwardness of armour and made little headway with their
battery. Their heads being enclosed in iron--for if they had shown an
inch of their faces the archer would certainly not have turned
discouraged from them--prevented their hearing the words of command, and
they seemed incapable of swinging the log with rhythmic motion. Count
Bertrich, on his horse, his visor up in spite of the archer, roared
orders that were not obeyed, because unheard, and in his frenzy the
Count seemed about to ride down his own followers, while loudly cursing
their clumsy stupidity. But worse than this was the rain of stones which
even armour could not withstand. The Black Count, summoning his most
stalwart followers, hurled down on the men beneath them the huge granite
spheres, acting for the time as their own catapults. The machine itself
did better execution than it had accomplished the day before, as its
workers had now learned its peculiarities. The oak log gave infrequent
feeble blows against the strong gate, but one after another of its
carriers were felled by the stones, then the log itself proved too heavy
for its thinned supporters, and so came to the ground, whereupon those
who remained turned and fled for shelter in the forest, all of them
sweating in the unaccustomed iron cases in which they found themselves:
some falling prone on the ground through heat and exhaustion, not
knowing how to unloose their headpieces to get a breath of fresh air.
Bertrich wasted no further effort on them, but called his crossbow
brigade out of the wood to advance and harass those on the walls while
the scaling ladders were being put into use. They came out timorously
with an eye on the tower rather than on the direction of their bolts.
Here, at last, was Surrey's opportunity. His hatred of a crossbow man as
a cumberer of the earth lent strength to his aim, and his anger at being
baffled by those in armour made the game he was now playing doubly
enjoyable. He raised a Saxon yell, heard far and wide over hill and
dale.
"Oh, here you are at last!" he cried. "Come along with your ox-bows and
hay ricks."
When half-a-dozen had fallen under the whizzing, almost invisible,
shafts that so quickly succeeded each other, the ranks of the crossbow
men wavered and broke, every man of them getting under cover as speedily
as he could.
Those on the western wall under Rodolph's command were now having all
they could do. The hill climbers, although somewhat out of breath with
their hurried ascent, swarmed in such numbers at the foot of the walls,
that for a time their repulse seemed almost hopeless. Each of the
attacking soldiers carried, wound round his waist, a rope tied at one
end to a piece of timber three or four feet long. This billet of wood
they flung over the parapet, dragging instantly on the attached rope.
Sometimes the billet came down on them again, but more often it caught
and held in the machicolations of the parapet, and then the soldier,
setting his feet against the stone wall, climbed nimbly up the rope,
usually to get knocked on the head with a battle-axe when he appeared at
the top, but while many went thus down again, others obtained a
precarious footing and fought fiercely until they fell backwards over
the parapet.
Rodolph saw that the moment three or four of the enemy made good their
stand at any one part of the wall, their comrades would swarm up at that
point and the castle would be taken, for the besiegers were so numerous
they might speedily overpower the little garrison. He gave the word to
cut the ropes whether the ascending man got foothold or not. The
defenders, in the fury of the battle, were paying more attention to the
splitting of skulls than the destroying of the means of ascent, often
leaving a rope dangling where another than its original owner might come
up. After this command the battle-axes clove each rope at its junction
with the wooden billet, and so destroyed its usefulness, for there was
no time in the mêlée to retie the cord to other billets, even if other
billets were to hand. When at last the ladders came, the fight waxed
more fierce. Here Rodolph took pattern by the Black Count, and gave
command to the defenders to hold catapult stones in readiness and wait
till two or three men were following each other up a ladder, then hurl
granite on the foremost, who in his fall brought down his comrades with
him. In each case when this was accomplished the men on the walls were
instructed to rush forward, pull up the ladder and throw it inside the
courtyard. In this way most of the ladders had been taken before the
attacking force rightly estimated their loss, or indeed noticed it in
the exciting conflict which was going forward, and with each capture the
danger to the castle grew less. Black Heinrich looked grimly on, taking
little part in the defence now that the attack on the gate had been
abandoned, but once when, in spite of all efforts of the defenders, four
ladders had been placed simultaneously together and half-a-dozen men
succeeded in mounting the battlements, the Count sprang forward and
grasping one after another of the invaders, flung them, head over heels,
through the air in such quick succession, and with such incredible
force, that most of them rolled well nigh into the village of Alken
before they came to rest on the hillside. The raiders gradually became
discouraged, but were buoyed up by the hope that other points of attack
might be more favoured by fate than theirs, else the retreat would have
sounded from the bugle. But suddenly a riderless horse came galloping
round a corner from the gate, and the officers recognised the animal
from its trappings. Like wildfire spread the rumour, "Count Bertrich is
slain," then all heart departed from the attack, and a wild exultant
cheer rose from those in the castle. The retreat down the hill became a
panic-stricken flight, which the catapults, now in activity again,
accelerated.
"Show your white flag!" roared Heinrich, striding up and down the
battlements, intoxicated with his triumph, and waving hands above his
head like a madman. "Show your white flag; you surely were not foolish
enough to attack without it."
The white flag presently did appear coming up from Alken, and the
request was made that they be allowed to bear away their dead and
wounded. Then at last the active engines ceased and the tired men sat on
beams and parapet, drawing sleeves across their sweating brows.
The foot of the walls presented an appalling spectacle. There was a
windrow of dead and wounded, as if the poor wrecked human beings had
been some sort of wingless moths who had flung themselves against these
adamant walls, and had paid the last penalty of their rashness. Parts of
broken ladders lay mingled with the slain, together with the round lumps
of stone which had been their undoing.
"Is it true that Count Bertrich has been slain?" asked Rodolph of
Heinrich, when the latter had assumed his customary calm.
"I know nothing of it. Here is the archer who was on the tower; he may
be able to tell us."
"Indeed," said Surrey, "I fear it is not true, for I had no fair shot at
him. It was not my intention to have killed him so early in the game,
but he must needs insult me, so I let fly at him."
"How did he insult you?"
"He raved at the cautious crossbow men, telling them that if they did
not come out from the wood they were cowards. Now it is not fair to call
a man a coward who fears my bow, and that expression I took as an
insult. He is a wise man and not a coward who betakes himself to the
wood when my arrows are abroad."
"I can bear witness to the truth of that," said the Black Count.
"I therefore loosed arrow at his slanderous mouth, but he turned his
face just at the moment, and although I unhorsed him and he lay still
enough till they dragged him away, I have my doubts regarding his
death."
During all the rest of that stirring day soldiers were busy carrying
their dead and wounded comrades down the steep hill to the village, and
the white flag flew until darkness blotted it out.