CHAPTER XVIII
OUT OF THE SHADOWS
Through the black night sudden and red there shot a sheet of fireillumining all things as lightning does. Above the roaring of the galethere echoed a dull and heavy noise like to that of muffled thunder.Then after a moment's pause and silence the sky rained stones, and withthem the limbs of men.
"The gateway's gone," shouted a great voice, it was that of Bolle. "Outwith the ladders!"
Men who were waiting ran up with them and thrust them, four in all,athwart the moat. By the planks that were lashed along their stavesthey scrambled across and over the piles of shattered masonry into thecourtyard beyond where none waited them, for all who watched here weredead or maimed.
"Light the lanterns," shouted Bolle again, "for it will be dark inyonder," and a man who followed with a torch obeyed him.
Then they rushed across the courtyard to the door of the refectory,which stood open. Here in the wide, high-roofed hall they met the massof Maldon's people pouring back from the faggoted breach, where they hadbeen gathered, expecting attack, some of them also bearing lanterns. Fora moment the two parties stood staring at each other; then followeda wild and savage scene. With shouts and oaths and battle-cries theyfought furiously. The massive, oaken tables were overthrown, by the redflicker of the pole-borne lanterns men grappled and fell and sleweach other upon the floor. A priest struck down a yeoman with a brazencrucifix, and next moment himself was brained with its broken shaft.
"For God and Grace!" shouted some; "For the King and Harflete!" answeredothers.
"Keep line! Keep line!" roared Bolle, "and sweep them out."
The lanterns were dashed down and extinguished till but one remained,a red and wavering star. Hoarse voices shouted for light, for none knewfriend from foe. It came; some one had fired the tapestries and theblaze ran up them to the roof. Then fearing lest they should be roasted,the Abbot's folk gave way and fled to the farther door, followed bytheir foes. Here it was that most of them fell, for they jammed in thedoorway and were cut down there are on the stair beyond.
While Bolle still plied his axe fiercely, some one caught his arm andscreamed into his ear--
"Let be! Let be! The wretch is sped."
In his red wrath he turned to strike the speaker, and saw by the flarethat it was Cicely.
"What do you here?" he cried. "Get gone."
"Fool," she answered in a low, fierce voice, "I seek my husband. Show methe path ere it be too late, you know it alone. Come, Jeffrey Stokes, alantern, a lantern!"
Jeffrey appeared, sword in one hand and lantern in the other, and withhim Emlyn, who also held a sword which she had plucked from a fallenman, Emlyn still foul with the filth of the sewer and the mud of themoat.
"I may not leave," muttered Thomas Bolle. "I seek Maldon."
"On to the dungeons," shrieked Emlyn, "or I will stab you. I heard themgive word to kill Harflete."
Then he snatched the light from Jeffrey's hand, and crying "Follow me,"rushed along a passage till they came to an open door and beyond it tostairs. They descended the stairs and passed other passages which ranunderground, till a sudden turn to the right brought them to a littlewalled-in place with a vaulted roof. Two torches flared in iron holdersin the masonry, and by the light of them they saw a strange and fearfulsight.
At the end of the open place a heavy, nail-studded door stood wide,revealing a cell, or rather a little cave beyond--those who are curiouscan see it to this day. Fastened by a chain to the wall of this dungeonwas a man, who held in his hand a three-legged stool and tugged at hischain like a maddened beast. In front of him, holding the doorway, stooda tall, lank priest, his robe tucked up into his girdle. He was wounded,for blood poured from his shaven crown and he plied a great sword withboth hands, striking savagely at four men who tried to cut him down. AsBolle and his party appeared, one of these men fell beneath the priest'sblows, and another took his place, shouting--
"Out of the way, traitor. We would kill Harflete, not you."
"We die or live together, murderers," answered the priest in a thick,gasping voice.
At this moment one of them, it was he who had spoken, heard the soundof the rescuers' footsteps and glanced back. In an instant he turned andwas running past them like a hare. As he went the light from the lanternfell upon his face, and Emlyn knew it for that of the Abbot. She struckat him with the sword she held, but the steel glanced from his mail. Healso struck, but at the lantern, dashing it to the ground.
"Seize him," screamed Emlyn. "Seize Maldon, Jeffrey," and at the wordsStokes bounded away, only to return presently, having lost him in thedark passages. Then with a roar Bolle leaped upon the two remainingmen-at-arms as they faced about, and very soon between his axe andthe sword of the priest behind, they sank to the ground and died stillfighting, who knew they had no hope of quarter.
It was over and done and dreadful silence fell upon the place, thesilence of the dead broken only by the heavy breathing of those whoremained alive. There the wounded monk leaned against the door-post, hisred sword drooping to the floor. There Harflete, the stool still lifted,rested his weight against the chain and peered forward in amazement,swaying as though from weakness. And lastly there lay the three slainmen, one of whom still moved a little.
Cicely crept forward; over the dead she went and past the priest tillshe stood face to face with the prisoner.
"Come nearer and I will dash out your brains," he said in a hoarsevoice, for such light as there was came from behind her whom he thoughtto be but another of the murderers.
Then at length she found her voice.
"Christopher!" she cried, "Christopher!"
He hearkened, and the stool fell from his hand.
"The Voice again," he muttered. "Well, 'tis time. Tarry a while, Wife, Icome, I come!" and he fell back against the wall shutting his eyes.
She leapt to him, and throwing her arms about him kissed his lips, hispoor, bloodless lips. The shut eyes opened.
"Death might be worse," he said, "but so I knew that we would meet."
Now Emlyn, seeing some change in his face, snatched one of the torchesfrom its iron and ran forward, holding it so that the light fell full onCicely.
"Oh, Christopher," she cried, "I am no ghost, but your living wife."
He heard, he stared, he stared again, then lifted his thin hand andstroked her hair.
"Oh God," he exclaimed, "the dead live!" and down he fell in a heap ather feet.
They thrust Cicely aside, Cicely who stood there shivering, she whothought he had gone again and this time for ever. With difficulty theybroke the chain whereby he had been held like a kennelled hound, andbore him, still senseless, up the long passages, Bolle going aheadas guard and Jeffrey Stokes following after. Behind them came Emlynsupporting the wounded monk Martin, for it was he and no other who hadsaved the life of Christopher.
As they went up towards the stairs they heard a roaring noise.
"Fire!" said Cicely, who knew that sound well, and next instant thelight of it burst upon them and its smoke wrapped them round. The Abbeywas ablaze, and its wide hall in front looked like the mouth of hell.
"Did I not prophesy that it would be so--yonder at Cranwell burning?"asked Emlyn, with a fierce laugh.
"Follow me!" shouted Bolle. "Be swift now ere the roof falls and trapsus."
On they went desperately, leaving the hall on their left, and well forthem was it that Thomas knew the way. One little chamber through whichthey passed had already caught, for flakes of fire fell among them fromabove and here the smoke was very thick. They were through it, who evena minute later could never have walked that path and lived. They werethrough it and out into the open air by the cloister door, which thosewho fled before them had left wide. They reached the moat just where thebreach had been mended with faggots, and mounting on them Bolle shoutedtill one of his own men heard him and dropped the bow that he had raisedto shoot him as a rebel. Then planks and ladders were brought, and atlast they escaped from dang
er and the intolerable heat.