CHAPTER VIII

OF THE a.s.sAULT ON ST. BARBARA'S TOWER

WITH fierce cries and menacing gestures the foreigners rushed down the street, many of them carrying axes and torches, while others bore a stout beam for the purpose of battering down the door of the tower.

Their archers and crossbowmen, eager to join in the fray, had slung their bows, and with knives, swords, or short spears in their hands, surged along in a confused ma.s.s with the men-at-arms.

"Now! Altogether! Loose, my lads!" shouted old Richard, and with the well-known tw.a.n.g nearly a score of bows sent their missiles crashing into the armed mob below.

Many of the advancing foemen fell, transfixed by the deadly shafts, while those in the rear, pressing blindly forward, stumbled over those who lay writhing on the ground. When, at length, the foremost had reached the base of the tower, where they were safe from the stinging shower, they were met with a stream of molten lead, which, burning through hauberk and leathern jerkin with equal ease, sent the a.s.sailants reeling back with screams of agony.

The men bearing the beam were all shot down, and the main body retiring hastily, in a few moments the street was deserted but for a number of corpses, and the solitary standing figure of a man in full armour. Disdaining to turn his back upon the foe, the knight walked slowly backwards, shaking his ponderous mace in speechless anger, while the arrows rattled harmlessly off his proof-plate mail.

"Save your arrows, comrades, and give him a heavy stone or a dose of hot lead should he approach," said old Wyatt. "Methinks I've seen his device before. 'Tis Enrico, son of the King of Sicily."

Just then the prince, his spurred heels tripping on the body of a man-at-arms, fell prostrate on his back, amid a roar of laughter from the Englishmen.

"Now stand by," exclaimed one of the archers, "and directly he moves a limb, let fly at his armpits or behind his knees!"

But the Italian was not lacking in cunning, for knowing that the weight of his armour would effectually prevent his rising, he lay perfectly quiet, his arms pressed closely to his side, till some varlets, bearing a heavy mantlet before them, came running up and lifted their master on his feet. Then, with measured step, the prince retired out of sight.

"Ah! As I thought, the rascals have learned a trick or two!" growled Wyatt, pointing to the Woolhouse Tower, a structure of greater height than St. Barbara's Tower, and standing less than three hundred paces distant.

Abandoned by its garrison at the first alarm, the Woolhouse Tower was occupied by a strong body of French archers, while an equally formidable band of crossbowmen took possession of the lofty Woolhouse hard by, so that a flight of missiles was poured upon the Englishmen from two different points.

"Lie down, men; 'tis useless to return their fire!" commanded the man-at-arms. But before his advice could be acted upon five archers and two soldiers were hit, one of the latter, his brain pierced by a bolt, toppling forwards over the parapet, and falling with a sickening thud upon the wall below.

"Would it not be well to abandon the roof and seek shelter below?"

inquired one.

"And give the rascals an easy chance to carry the tower," rejoined old Wyatt derisively. "Nay, we must hold the flats at all cost.

Quickly, my lads! Bring up everything ye can find that will do to raise a mantlet! There are plenty of hides in the store, and planks and poles as well."

Swiftly the archers fell to work, and in a very short s.p.a.ce they had stretched some stout ox-hides on poles and had raised them above the parapet. Strengthening their hasty barricade with several heavy planks, they were soon in comparative security; while through the narrow s.p.a.ce betwixt the top of the battlement and the lower edge of the hides they could keep up a brisk discharge of arrows upon their a.s.sailants, while the m.u.f.fled thud of shafts and quarrels striking upon the loosely hung hides showed both the vehemence of the attack and the efficacy of the defence.

The defenders had now time to survey their surroundings; and, to every one's surprise, the Lady Audrey, calm and self-possessed, was busily engaged in making bandages for the wounded men.

"My faith!" exclaimed d.i.c.k Wyatt, roughly yet kindly. "'Tis no place for thee, girl! Away with thee to the room below, and, if nursing be thy desire, I'll warrant there'll be enough work for thee ere long!"

Reluctantly, the maiden obeyed; and the wounded archers were taken below so that their hurts could receive attention, while the survivors would be less enc.u.mbered on the narrow extent of the roof.

"Stand to it once more!" shouted their leader. "They come again! Now, Will, be ready with the molten lead and the boiling water!"

a.s.sailed on three sides at once, the defenders were hard put to it to keep the attackers in check. In addition to the showers of arrows and stones, the enemy had gained a lodgment on the town wall, and two long ladders were placed against the tower, their ends resting or projecting above the battlements. Up swarmed a number of heavily-armed men, till the ladders creaked and groaned under their weight. Hara.s.sed by the hail of missiles, and impeded by the curtains of bulls' hides, the defenders could not repel the a.s.sault, and, to their consternation, the leaders of the attack appeared above the battlements.

Once the mailed warriors gained the roof, all would be lost! But at the critical moment Richard Wyatt, seizing a ma.s.sive crowbar, loosened a heavy coping-stone. Then, calling a couple of strong archers to his aid, the ponderous stone was deftly toppled over the battlements. Missing the first man, the stone hurled the next two from their swaying foothold, then, crashing through the woodwork of the ladder, it fell upon the heads of the men who were supporting those who had already ascended.

The ladder cracked and broke, bringing down the other ladder in its fall, the fragments descending in opposite directions athwart the wall, where a ghastly litter of woodwork and mangled corpses marked the failure of the enterprise.

The man who had first gained the edge of the parapet, feeling the ladder give beneath him, sprang for the roof; but, enc.u.mbered by his heavy armour, he slipped, and, clinging only by his mailed gauntlets, he hung dangling over the abyss.

Through the bars of his visor the defenders could see his eyes starting from his head in his terror. But it was no time for pity.

With gibes and fierce jests the Englishmen watched his desperate struggles, till, his fingers growing numb with the strain, he relaxed his hold and fell, with a hoa.r.s.e cry, to join the crushed and mangled bodies of his comrades.

Carried away by his enthusiasm, old Richard tore aside side the curtain of hides, and stood upon the parapet to view the scene of his triumph; but his imprudence cost him dear, fora crossbow bolt struck him in the side, and he fell backwards into the arms of two of the archers.

"Lay me down," he cried feebly. "I am done for at last!" Presently he added, "Send Raymond to me."

Quickly the young archer came and knelt beside the dying soldier, across whose eyes a misty film was already beginning to gather.

"Raymond," he gasped, "thou'rt but a lad, but thou hast a cool head.

Take charge of the Tower, and yield to no man. If the saints bring ye out scatheless, tell my master, Sir John, that I did my duty. . . .

And now, Pearce," he added, addressing another of the archers who crowded around, "thou hast a strong steady hand. Grasp the bolt, I pray thee, and pluck it out. It would ease and hasten my pa.s.sing."

But the archer could not bring himself to hasten the end, in spite of the faint entreaties of the dying man. Then, by a supreme effort, d.i.c.k Wyatt struggled to his feet and tore out the deadly shaft. A rush of dark blood followed, and, with a loud cry of "St. George for England!" the old man-at-arms fell dead.

The little garrison was now in sore straits. Of the original two score men nine were killed and twelve grievously wounded, and of the survivors only eleven were left to guard the roof of the Tower and eight to man the oylets and windows of the lower storeys.

At Raymond's suggestion the steel caps of the killed and wounded were shown above the walls to deceive the enemy as to the strength of the garrison. Then, leaving two men to keep a sharp look-out, the remainder of the worn and famished warriors descended into a lower room to partake of a hasty yet plentiful meal.

"I would we had a sack or two of quicklime," remarked Raymond to Will Lightfoot, who had charge of the defence of the lowermost storey. "We would then give them a warm welcome such as my father did at Hamble."

Will was evidently thinking.

"There is very little that will burn," he said at last reflectively.

"They threw in some flaming wood, but, methinks, they had a good exchange--molten lead is not much to the taste of these rogues!"

"True, the Tower cannot be fired, but why didst thou mention it?"

"Because in the cellar are several bundles of straw and hay. I would counsel that we set them alight and hurl them on the scaling ladders!"

"By St. George! A good device!"

Once more the invaders renewed the a.s.sault, and this time ladders were brought against two opposite sides of the building. But, thanks to the trusses of flaming straw and hay, the attackers could not bring themselves to face the hazardous ascent.

Neither did the attack upon the door at the base of the Tower meet with better success, for the arrows of the besieged kept the battering-ram inactive, while those bolder than their fellows who attacked the door with axes found that, however accustomed they were to give or receive hard knocks, molten lead and boiling water were more than they could stand.

At length night drew on, and, save for an occasional arrow, the garrison were unmolested. Many of the French and Genoese, having had their fill of plunder, were busy removing their booty to the galleys.

Others, mad with drink, paraded the streets uttering wild oaths and strange cries.

Those houses that had been plundered were set on fire, and, as darkness fell over the ill-fated town, the glare of fifty burning buildings illuminated the country for miles around, and served to lash the surviving inhabitants into a host of desperate and revengeful defenders of their country's sh.o.r.es.

CHAPTER IX