The Literary World Seventh Reader Part 30

"a.s.suredly we shall meet again," answered Cedric.

"Something in the hand the whilst," continued the Norman; and, as they parted at the postern door, he thrust in Cedric's reluctant hand a gold [v]byzant, adding, "Remember, I will flay off both cowl and skin if thou failest in thy purpose."

The supposed priest pa.s.sed out of the door without further words.

Front-de-Boeuf turned back within the castle.

"Ho! Giles jailer," he called, "let them bring Cedric of Rotherwood before me, and the other churl, his companion--him I mean of Coningsburgh--Athelstane there, or what call they him? Their very names are an enc.u.mbrance to a Norman knight's mouth, and have, as it were, a flavor of bacon. Give me a stoop of wine, as jolly Prince John would say, that I may wash away the relish. Place it in the armory, and thither lead the prisoners."

His commands were obeyed; and upon entering that Gothic apartment, hung with many spoils won by his own valor and that of his father, he found a flagon of wine on a ma.s.sive oaken table, and the two Saxon captives under the guard of four of his dependants. Front-de-Boeuf took a long draught of wine and then addressed his prisoners, for the imperfect light prevented his perceiving that the more important of them had escaped.

"Gallants of England," said Front-de-Boeuf, "how relish ye your entertainment at Torquilstone? Faith and Saint Dennis, an ye pay not a rich ransom, I will hang ye up by the feet from the iron bars of these windows till the kites and hooded crows have made skeletons of you!

Speak out, ye Saxon dogs, what bid ye for your worthless lives? What say you, you of Rotherwood?"

"Not a [v]doit I," answered poor Wamba, "and for hanging up by the feet, my brain has been topsy-turvy ever since the [v]biggin was bound first around my head; so turning me upside down may peradventure restore it again."

"Hah!" cried Front-de-Boeuf, "what have we here?"

And with the back of his hand he struck Cedric's cap from the head of the jester, and throwing open his collar, discovered the fatal badge of servitude, the silver collar round his neck.

"Giles--Clement--dogs and varlets!" called the furious Norman, "what villain have you brought me here?"

"I think I can tell you," said De Bracy, who just entered the apartment.

"This is Cedric's clown."

"Go," ordered Front-de-Boeuf; "fetch me the right Cedric hither, and I pardon your error for once--the rather that you but mistook a fool for a Saxon [v]franklin."

"Ay, but," said Wamba, "your chivalrous excellency will find there are more fools than franklins among us."

"What means this knave?" said Front-de-Boeuf, looking toward his followers, who, lingering and loath, faltered forth their belief that if this were not Cedric who was there in presence, they knew not what was become of him.

"Heavens!" exclaimed De Bracy. "He must have escaped in the monk's garments!"

"Fiends!" echoed Front-de-Boeuf. "It was then the boar of Rotherwood whom I ushered to the postern and dismissed with my own hands! And thou," he said to Wamba, "whose folly could over-reach the wisdom of idiots yet more gross than thyself. I will give thee holy orders, I will shave thy crown for thee! Here, let them tear the scalp from his head and pitch him headlong from the battlements. Thy trade is to jest: canst thou jest now?"

"You deal with me better than your word, n.o.ble knight," whimpered forth poor Wamba, whose habits of [v]buffoonery were not to be overcome even by the immediate prospect of death; "if you give me the red cap you propose, out of a simple monk you will make a [v]cardinal."

"The poor wretch," said De Bracy, "is resolved to die in his vocation."

The next moment would have been Wamba's last but for an unexpected interruption. A hoa.r.s.e shout, raised by many voices, bore to the inmates of the hall the tidings that the besiegers were advancing to the attack.

There was a moment's silence in the hall, which was broken by De Bracy.

"To the battlements," he said; "let us see what these knaves do without."

So saying, he opened a latticed window which led to a sort of projecting balcony, and immediately called to those in the apartment, "Saint Dennis, it is time to stir! They bring forward [v]mantelets and [v]pavisses, and the archers muster on the skirts of the wood like a dark cloud before a hail-storm."

Front-de-Boeuf also looked out upon the field and immediately s.n.a.t.c.hed his bugle. After winding a long and loud blast, he commanded his men to their posts on the walls.

"De Bracy, look to the eastern side, where the walls are lowest. n.o.ble Bois-Guilbert, thy trade hath well taught thee how to attack and defend, so look thou to the western side. I myself will take post at the barbican. Our numbers are few, but activity and courage may supply that defect, since we have only to do with rascal clowns."

The Templar had in the meantime been looking out on the proceedings of the besiegers with deeper attention than Front-de-Boeuf or his giddy companion.

"By the faith of mine order," he said, "these men approach with more touch of discipline than could have been judged, however they come by it. See ye how dexterously they avail themselves of every cover which a tree or bush affords and avoid exposing themselves to the shot of our cross-bows? I spy neither banner nor pennon, and yet I will gage my golden chain that they are led by some n.o.ble knight or gentleman skillful in the practice of wars."

"I espy him," said De Bracy; "I see the waving of a knight's crest and the gleam of his armor. See yon tall man in the black mail who is busied marshaling the farther troop of the rascally yeomen. By Saint Dennis, I hold him to be the knight who did so well in the tournament at Ashby."

The demonstrations of the enemy's approach cut off all farther discourse. The Templar and De Bracy repaired to their posts and, at the head of the few followers they were able to muster, awaited with calm determination the threatened a.s.sault, while Front-de-Boeuf went to see that all was secure in the besieged fortress.

V

In the meantime, the wounded Wilfred of Ivanhoe had been gradually recovering his strength. Taken into her litter by Rebecca when his own father hesitated to succor him, the young knight had lain in a stupor through all the experiences of the journey and the capture of Cedric's party by the Normans. De Bracy, who, bad as he was, was not without some [v]compunction, on finding the occupant of the litter to be Ivanhoe, had placed the invalid under the charge of two of his squires, who were directed to state to any inquirers that he was a wounded comrade. This explanation was now accordingly returned by these men to Front-de-Boeuf, when, in going the round of the castle, he questioned them why they did not make for the battlements upon the alarm of the attack.

"A wounded comrade!" he exclaimed in great wrath and astonishment. "No wonder that churls and yeomen wax so presumptuous as even to lay leaguer before castles, and that clowns and swineherds send defiances to n.o.bles, since men-at-arms have turned sick men's nurses. To the battlements, ye loitering villains!" he cried, raising his [v]stentorian voice till the arches rang again; "to the battlements, or I will splinter your bones with this truncheon."

The men, who, like most of their description, were fond of enterprise and detested inaction, went joyfully to the scene of danger, and the care of Ivanhoe fell to Rebecca, who occupied a neighboring apartment and who was not kept in close confinement.

The beautiful young Jewess rejoined the knight, whom she had so signally befriended, at the moment of the beginning of the attack on the castle.

Ivanhoe, already much better and chafing at his enforced inaction, resembled the war-horse who scenteth the battle afar.

"If I could but drag myself to yonder window," he said, "that I might see how this brave game is like to go--if I could strike but a single blow for our deliverance! It is in vain; I am alike nerveless and weaponless!"

"Fret not thyself, n.o.ble knight," answered Rebecca, "the sounds have ceased of a sudden. It may be they join not battle."

"Thou knowest naught of it," returned Wilfred, impatiently; "this dead pause only shows that the men are at their posts on the walls and expect an instant attack. What we have heard was but the distant muttering of the storm, which will burst anon in all its fury. Could I but reach yonder window!"

"Thou wilt injure thyself by the attempt, n.o.ble knight," replied the attendant. Then she added, "I myself will stand at the lattice and describe to you as I can what pa.s.ses without."

"You must not; you shall not!" exclaimed Ivanhoe. "Each lattice will soon be a mark for the archers; some random shaft may strike you. At least cover thy body with yonder ancient buckler and show as little of thyself as may be."

Availing herself of the protection of the large, ancient s.h.i.+eld, which she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security, could witness part of what was pa.s.sing without the castle and report to Ivanhoe the preparations being made for the storming. From where she stood she had a full view of the outwork likely to be the first object of the a.s.sault. It was a fortification of no great height or strength, intended to protect the postern-gate through which Cedric had been recently dismissed by Front-de-Boeuf. The castle moat divided this species of barbican from the rest of the fortress, so that, in case of its being taken, it was easy to cut off the communication with the main building by withdrawing the temporary bridge. In the outwork was a sally-port corresponding to the postern of the castle, and the whole was surrounded by a strong palisade. From the mustering of the a.s.sailants in a direction nearly opposite the outwork, it seemed plain that this point had been selected for attack.

Rebecca communicated this to Ivanhoe, and added, "The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow."

"Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe.

"Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca.

"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed! Seest thou who they are that act as leaders? Or, are all of them but stout yeomen?"

"A knight clad in sable armor is the most conspicuous," she replied; "he alone is armed from head to foot, and he seems to a.s.sume the direction of all around him."

"Seem there no other leaders?" demanded the anxious inquirer.

"None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," said Rebecca. "They appear even now preparing to attack. G.o.d of Zion protect us! What a dreadful sight! Those who advance first bear huge s.h.i.+elds and defenses made of plank; the others follow, bending their bows as they come on. They raise their bows! G.o.d of Moses, forgive the creatures thou hast made!"

Her description was suddenly interrupted by the signal for a.s.sault, which was the blast of a shrill bugle, at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements. The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the a.s.sailants crying, "Saint George for merry England!" and the Normans answering them with cries of "[v]_Beauseant! Beauseant!_"

It was not, however, by clamor that the contest was to be decided, and the desperate efforts of the a.s.sailants were met by an equally vigorous defense on the part of the besieged. The archers, trained by their woodland pastimes to the most effective use of the longbow, shot so rapidly and accurately that no point at which a defender could show the least part of his person escaped their [v]cloth-yard shafts. By this heavy discharge, which continued as thick and sharp as hail, two or three of the garrison were slain and several others wounded. But, confident in their armor of proof and in the cover which their situation afforded, the followers of Front-de-Boeuf, and his allies, showed an obstinacy in defense proportioned to the fury of the attack, replying with the discharge of their large cross-bows to the close and continued shower of arrows. As the a.s.sailants were necessarily but indifferently protected, they received more damage than they did.