Ivanhoe: A Romance

CHAPTER XXXI

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or, close the wall up with our English dead. -------And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture--let us swear That you are worth your breeding. King Henry V

Cedric, although not greatly confident in Ulrica's message, omitted notto communicate her promise to the Black Knight and Locksley. They werewell pleased to find they had a friend within the place, who might, inthe moment of need, be able to facilitate their entrance, and readilyagreed with the Saxon that a storm, under whatever disadvantages, oughtto be attempted, as the only means of liberating the prisoners now inthe hands of the cruel Front-de-Boeuf.

”The royal blood of Alfred is endangered,” said Cedric.

”The honour of a noble lady is in peril,” said the Black Knight.

”And, by the Saint Christopher at my baldric,” said the good yeoman,”were there no other cause than the safety of that poor faithful knave,Wamba, I would jeopard a joint ere a hair of his head were hurt.”

”And so would I,” said the Friar; ”what, sirs! I trust well that afool--I mean, d'ye see me, sirs, a fool that is free of his guild andmaster of his craft, and can give as much relish and flavour to a cup ofwine as ever a flitch of bacon can--I say, brethren, such a fool shallnever want a wise clerk to pray for or fight for him at a strait, whileI can say a mass or flourish a partisan.” And with that he made hisheavy halberd to play around his head as a shepherd boy flourishes hislight crook.

”True, Holy Clerk,” said the Black Knight, ”true as if Saint Dunstanhimself had said it.--And now, good Locksley, were it not well thatnoble Cedric should assume the direction of this assault?”

”Not a jot I,” returned Cedric; ”I have never been wont to study eitherhow to take or how to hold out those abodes of tyrannic power, whichthe Normans have erected in this groaning land. I will fight among theforemost; but my honest neighbours well know I am not a trained soldierin the discipline of wars, or the attack of strongholds.”

”Since it stands thus with noble Cedric,” said Locksley, ”I am mostwilling to take on me the direction of the archery; and ye shall hangme up on my own Trysting-tree, an the defenders be permitted to showthemselves over the walls without being stuck with as many shafts asthere are cloves in a gammon of bacon at Christmas.”

”Well said, stout yeoman,” answered the Black Knight; ”and if I bethought worthy to have a charge in these matters, and can find amongthese brave men as many as are willing to follow a true English knight,for so I may surely call myself, I am ready, with such skill as myexperience has taught me, to lead them to the attack of these walls.”

The parts being thus distributed to the leaders, they commenced thefirst assault, of which the reader has already heard the issue.

When the barbican was carried, the Sable Knight sent notice of thehappy event to Locksley, requesting him at the same time, to keep sucha strict observation on the castle as might prevent the defenders fromcombining their force for a sudden sally, and recovering the outworkwhich they had lost. This the knight was chiefly desirous of avoiding,conscious that the men whom he led, being hasty and untrainedvolunteers, imperfectly armed and unaccustomed to discipline, must, uponany sudden attack, fight at great disadvantage with the veteran soldiersof the Norman knights, who were well provided with arms both defensiveand offensive; and who, to match the zeal and high spirit of thebesiegers, had all the confidence which arises from perfect disciplineand the habitual use of weapons.

The knight employed the interval in causing to be constructed a sort offloating bridge, or long raft, by means of which he hoped to cross themoat in despite of the resistance of the enemy. This was a work of sometime, which the leaders the less regretted, as it gave Ulrica leisure toexecute her plan of diversion in their favour, whatever that might be.

When the raft was completed, the Black Knight addressed thebesiegers:--”It avails not waiting here longer, my friends; the sun isdescending to the west--and I have that upon my hands which will notpermit me to tarry with you another day. Besides, it will be a marvel ifthe horsemen come not upon us from York, unless we speedily accomplishour purpose. Wherefore, one of ye go to Locksley, and bid him commence adischarge of arrows on the opposite side of the castle, and move forwardas if about to assault it; and you, true English hearts, stand by me,and be ready to thrust the raft endlong over the moat whenever thepostern on our side is thrown open. Follow me boldly across, and aid meto burst yon sallyport in the main wall of the castle. As many of you aslike not this service, or are but ill armed to meet it, do you man thetop of the outwork, draw your bow-strings to your ears, and mind youquell with your shot whatever shall appear to man the rampart--NobleCedric, wilt thou take the direction of those which remain?”

”Not so, by the soul of Hereward!” said the Saxon; ”lead I cannot; butmay posterity curse me in my grave, if I follow not with the foremostwherever thou shalt point the way--The quarrel is mine, and well itbecomes me to be in the van of the battle.”

”Yet, bethink thee, noble Saxon,” said the knight, ”thou hast neitherhauberk, nor corslet, nor aught but that light helmet, target, andsword.”

”The better!” answered Cedric; ”I shall be the lighter to climb thesewalls. And,--forgive the boast, Sir Knight,--thou shalt this day seethe naked breast of a Saxon as boldly presented to the battle as ever yebeheld the steel corslet of a Norman.”

”In the name of God, then,” said the knight, ”fling open the door, andlaunch the floating bridge.”

The portal, which led from the inner-wall of the barbican to the moat,and which corresponded with a sallyport in the main wall of the castle,was now suddenly opened; the temporary bridge was then thrust forward,and soon flashed in the waters, extending its length between the castleand outwork, and forming a slippery and precarious passage for two menabreast to cross the moat. Well aware of the importance of taking thefoe by surprise, the Black Knight, closely followed by Cedric, threwhimself upon the bridge, and reached the opposite side. Here he began tothunder with his axe upon the gate of the castle, protected in part fromthe shot and stones cast by the defenders by the ruins of the formerdrawbridge, which the Templar had demolished in his retreat from thebarbican, leaving the counterpoise still attached to the upper part ofthe portal. The followers of the knight had no such shelter; two wereinstantly shot with cross-bow bolts, and two more fell into the moat;the others retreated back into the barbican.

The situation of Cedric and of the Black Knight was now truly dangerous,and would have been still more so, but for the constancy of thearchers in the barbican, who ceased not to shower their arrows uponthe battlements, distracting the attention of those by whom they weremanned, and thus affording a respite to their two chiefs from thestorm of missiles which must otherwise have overwhelmed them. But theirsituation was eminently perilous, and was becoming more so with everymoment.

”Shame on ye all!” cried De Bracy to the soldiers around him; ”do yecall yourselves cross-bowmen, and let these two dogs keep their stationunder the walls of the castle?--Heave over the coping stones from thebattlements, an better may not be--Get pick-axe and levers, and downwith that huge pinnacle!” pointing to a heavy piece of stone carved-workthat projected from the parapet.

At this moment the besiegers caught sight of the red flag upon the angleof the tower which Ulrica had described to Cedric. The stout yeomanLocksley was the first who was aware of it, as he was hasting to theoutwork, impatient to see the progress of the assault.

”Saint George!” he cried, ”Merry Saint George for England!--To thecharge, bold yeomen!--why leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric tostorm the pass alone?--make in, mad priest, show thou canst fight forthy rosary,--make in, brave yeomen!--the castle is ours, we have friendswithin--See yonder flag, it is the appointed signal--Torquilstone isours!--Think of honour, think of spoil--One effort, and the place isours!”

With that he bent his good bow, and sent a shaft right through thebreast of one of the men-at-arms, who, under De Bracy's direction, wasloosening a fragment from one of the battlements to precipitate on theheads of Cedric and the Black Knight. A second soldier caught from thehands of the dying man the iron crow, with which he heaved at andhad loosened the stone pinnacle, when, receiving an arrow through hishead-piece, he dropped from the battlements into the moat a dead man.The men-at-arms were daunted, for no armour seemed proof against theshot of this tremendous archer.

”Do you give ground, base knaves!” said De Bracy; ”'Mount joye SaintDennis!'--Give me the lever!”

And, snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened pinnacle, which wasof weight enough, if thrown down, not only to have destroyed the remnantof the drawbridge, which sheltered the two foremost assailants, but alsoto have sunk the rude float of planks over which they had crossed. Allsaw the danger, and the boldest, even the stout Friar himself, avoidedsetting foot on the raft. Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against DeBracy, and thrice did his arrow bound back from the knight's armour ofproof.

”Curse on thy Spanish steel-coat!” said Locksley, ”had English smithforged it, these arrows had gone through, an as if it had been silk orsendal.” He then began to call out, ”Comrades! friends! noble Cedric!bear back, and let the ruin fall.”

His warning voice was unheard, for the din which the knight himselfoccasioned by his strokes upon the postern would have drowned twentywar-trumpets. The faithful Gurth indeed sprung forward on the plankedbridge, to warn Cedric of his impending fate, or to share it with him.But his warning would have come too late; the massive pinnacle alreadytottered, and De Bracy, who still heaved at his task, would haveaccomplished it, had not the voice of the Templar sounded close in hisears:--

”All is lost, De Bracy, the castle burns.”

”Thou art mad to say so!” replied the knight.

”It is all in a light flame on the western side. I have striven in vainto extinguish it.”

With the stern coolness which formed the basis of his character, Briande Bois-Guilbert communicated this hideous intelligence, which was notso calmly received by his astonished comrade.

”Saints of Paradise!” said De Bracy; ”what is to be done? I vow to SaintNicholas of Limoges a candlestick of pure gold--”

”Spare thy vow,” said the Templar, ”and mark me. Lead thy men down, asif to a sally; throw the postern-gate open--There are but two men whooccupy the float, fling them into the moat, and push across for thebarbican. I will charge from the main gate, and attack the barbican onthe outside; and if we can regain that post, be assured we shall defendourselves until we are relieved, or at least till they grant us fairquarter.”

”It is well thought upon,” said De Bracy; ”I will play my part--Templar,thou wilt not fail me?”

”Hand and glove, I will not!” said Bois-Guilbert. ”But haste thee, inthe name of God!”

De Bracy hastily drew his men together, and rushed down to thepostern-gate, which he caused instantly to be thrown open. But scarcewas this done ere the portentous strength of the Black Knight forced hisway inward in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two of the foremostinstantly fell, and the rest gave way notwithstanding all their leader'sefforts to stop them.

”Dogs!” said De Bracy, ”will ye let TWO men win our only pass forsafety?”

”He is the devil!” said a veteran man-at-arms, bearing back from theblows of their sable antagonist.

”And if he be the devil,” replied De Bracy, ”would you fly from him intothe mouth of hell?--the castle burns behind us, villains!--let despairgive you courage, or let me forward! I will cope with this championmyself.”

And well and chivalrous did De Bracy that day maintain the fame he hadacquired in the civil wars of that dreadful period. The vaulted passageto which the postern gave entrance, and in which these two redoubtedchampions were now fighting hand to hand, rung with the furious blowswhich they dealt each other, De Bracy with his sword, the Black Knightwith his ponderous axe. At length the Norman received a blow, which,though its force was partly parried by his shield, for otherwise nevermore would De Bracy have again moved limb, descended yet with suchviolence on his crest, that he measured his length on the paved floor.

”Yield thee, De Bracy,” said the Black Champion, stooping over him, andholding against the bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which theknights dispatched their enemies, (and which was called the dagger ofmercy,)--”yield thee, Maurice de Bracy, rescue or no rescue, or thou artbut a dead man.”

”I will not yield,” replied De Bracy faintly, ”to an unknown conqueror.Tell me thy name, or work thy pleasure on me--it shall never be saidthat Maurice de Bracy was prisoner to a nameless churl.”

The Black Knight whispered something into the ear of the vanquished.

”I yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no rescue,” answered theNorman, exchanging his tone of stern and determined obstinacy for one ofdeep though sullen submission.

”Go to the barbican,” said the victor, in a tone of authority, ”andthere wait my further orders.”

”Yet first, let me say,” said De Bracy, ”what it imports thee to know.Wilfred of Ivanhoe is wounded and a prisoner, and will perish in theburning castle without present help.”

”Wilfred of Ivanhoe!” exclaimed the Black Knight--”prisoner, andperish!--The life of every man in the castle shall answer it if a hairof his head be singed--Show me his chamber!”

”Ascend yonder winding stair,” said De Bracy; ”it leads to hisapartment--Wilt thou not accept my guidance?” he added, in a submissivevoice.

”No. To the barbican, and there wait my orders. I trust thee not, DeBracy.”

During this combat and the brief conversation which ensued, Cedric, atthe head of a body of men, among whom the Friar was conspicuous, hadpushed across the bridge as soon as they saw the postern open, and droveback the dispirited and despairing followers of De Bracy, of whom someasked quarter, some offered vain resistance, and the greater part fledtowards the court-yard. De Bracy himself arose from the ground, and casta sorrowful glance after his conqueror. ”He trusts me not!” he repeated;”but have I deserved his trust?” He then lifted his sword from thefloor, took off his helmet in token of submission, and, going to thebarbican, gave up his sword to Locksley, whom he met by the way.

As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon apparent in thechamber, where Ivanhoe was watched and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. Hehad been awakened from his brief slumber by the noise of the battle; andhis attendant, who had, at his anxious desire, again placed herself atthe window to watch and report to him the fate of the attack, wasfor some time prevented from observing either, by the increase of thesmouldering and stifling vapour. At length the volumes of smoke whichrolled into the apartment--the cries for water, which were heard evenabove the din of the battle made them sensible of the progress of thisnew danger.

”The castle burns,” said Rebecca; ”it burns!--What can we do to saveourselves?”

”Fly, Rebecca, and save thine own life,” said Ivanhoe, ”for no human aidcan avail me.”

”I will not fly,” answered Rebecca; ”we will be saved or perishtogether--And yet, great God!--my father, my father--what will be hisfate!”

At this moment the door of the apartment flew open, and the Templarpresented himself,--a ghastly figure, for his gilded armour was brokenand bloody, and the plume was partly shorn away, partly burnt from hiscasque. ”I have found thee,” said he to Rebecca; ”thou shalt prove Iwill keep my word to share weal and woe with thee--There is but onepath to safety, I have cut my way through fifty dangers to point it tothee--up, and instantly follow me!” [38]

”Alone,” answered Rebecca, ”I will not follow thee. If thou wert born ofwoman--if thou hast but a touch of human charity in thee--if thy heartbe not hard as thy breastplate--save my aged father--save this woundedknight!”

”A knight,” answered the Templar, with his characteristic calmness, ”aknight, Rebecca, must encounter his fate, whether it meet him in theshape of sword or flame--and who recks how or where a Jew meets withhis?”

”Savage warrior,” said Rebecca, ”rather will I perish in the flames thanaccept safety from thee!”

”Thou shalt not choose, Rebecca--once didst thou foil me, but nevermortal did so twice.”

So saying, he seized on the terrified maiden, who filled the air withher shrieks, and bore her out of the room in his arms in spite of hercries, and without regarding the menaces and defiance which Ivanhoethundered against him. ”Hound of the Temple--stain to thine Order--setfree the damsel! Traitor of Bois-Guilbert, it is Ivanhoe commandsthee!--Villain, I will have thy heart's blood!”

”I had not found thee, Wilfred,” said the Black Knight, who at thatinstant entered the apartment, ”but for thy shouts.”

”If thou be'st true knight,” said Wilfred, ”think not of me--pursue yonravisher--save the Lady Rowena--look to the noble Cedric!”

”In their turn,” answered he of the Fetterlock, ”but thine is first.”

And seizing upon Ivanhoe, he bore him off with as much ease as theTemplar had carried off Rebecca, rushed with him to the postern, andhaving there delivered his burden to the care of two yeomen, he againentered the castle to assist in the rescue of the other prisoners.

One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously fromwindow and shot-hole. But in other parts, the great thickness of thewalls and the vaulted roofs of the apartments, resisted the progressof the flames, and there the rage of man still triumphed, as the scarcemore dreadful element held mastery elsewhere; for the besiegers pursuedthe defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated intheir blood the vengeance which had long animated them against thesoldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison resisted tothe uttermost--few of them asked quarter--none received it. The air wasfilled with groans and clashing of arms--the floors were slippery withthe blood of despairing and expiring wretches.

Through this scene of confusion, Cedric rushed in quest of Rowena, whilethe faithful Gurth, following him closely through the ”melee”, neglectedhis own safety while he strove to avert the blows that were aimed athis master. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to reach his ward'sapartment just as she had abandoned all hope of safety, and, with acrucifix clasped in agony to her bosom, sat in expectation of instantdeath. He committed her to the charge of Gurth, to be conducted insafety to the barbican, the road to which was now cleared of the enemy,and not yet interrupted by the flames. This accomplished, the loyalCedric hastened in quest of his friend Athelstane, determined, at everyrisk to himself, to save that last scion of Saxon royalty. But ereCedric penetrated as far as the old hall in which he had himself beena prisoner, the inventive genius of Wamba had procured liberation forhimself and his companion in adversity.

When the noise of the conflict announced that it was at the hottest, theJester began to shout, with the utmost power of his lungs, ”Saint Georgeand the dragon!--Bonny Saint George for merry England!--The castle iswon!” And these sounds he rendered yet more fearful, by banging againsteach other two or three pieces of rusty armour which lay scatteredaround the hall.

A guard, which had been stationed in the outer, or anteroom, andwhose spirits were already in a state of alarm, took fright at Wamba'sclamour, and, leaving the door open behind them, ran to tell the Templarthat foemen had entered the old hall. Meantime the prisoners found nodifficulty in making their escape into the anteroom, and from thenceinto the court of the castle, which was now the last scene of contest.Here sat the fierce Templar, mounted on horseback, surrounded by severalof the garrison both on horse and foot, who had united their strengthto that of this renowned leader, in order to secure the last chanceof safety and retreat which remained to them. The drawbridge had beenlowered by his orders, but the passage was beset; for the archers, whohad hitherto only annoyed the castle on that side by their missiles, nosooner saw the flames breaking out, and the bridge lowered, than theythronged to the entrance, as well to prevent the escape of the garrison,as to secure their own share of booty ere the castle should be burntdown. On the other hand, a party of the besiegers who had entered bythe postern were now issuing out into the court-yard, and attacking withfury the remnant of the defenders who were thus assaulted on both sidesat once.

Animated, however, by despair, and supported by the example of theirindomitable leader, the remaining soldiers of the castle fought withthe utmost valour; and, being well-armed, succeeded more than once indriving back the assailants, though much inferior in numbers. Rebecca,placed on horseback before one of the Templar's Saracen slaves, was inthe midst of the little party; and Bois-Guilbert, notwithstanding theconfusion of the bloody fray, showed every attention to her safety.Repeatedly he was by her side, and, neglecting his own defence, heldbefore her the fence of his triangular steel-plated shield; and anonstarting from his position by her, he cried his war-cry, dashed forward,struck to earth the most forward of the assailants, and was on the sameinstant once more at her bridle rein.

Athelstane, who, as the reader knows, was slothful, but not cowardly,beheld the female form whom the Templar protected thus sedulously, anddoubted not that it was Rowena whom the knight was carrying off, indespite of all resistance which could be offered.

”By the soul of Saint Edward,” he said, ”I will rescue her from yonderover-proud knight, and he shall die by my hand!”

”Think what you do!” cried Wamba; ”hasty hand catches frog for fish--bymy bauble, yonder is none of my Lady Rowena--see but her long darklocks!--Nay, an ye will not know black from white, ye may be leader, butI will be no follower--no bones of mine shall be broken unless I knowfor whom.--And you without armour too!--Bethink you, silk bonnet neverkept out steel blade.--Nay, then, if wilful will to water, wilful mustdrench.--'Deus vobiscum', most doughty Athelstane!”--he concluded,loosening the hold which he had hitherto kept upon the Saxon's tunic.

To snatch a mace from the pavement, on which it lay beside one whosedying grasp had just relinquished it--to rush on the Templar's band, andto strike in quick succession to the right and left, levelling a warriorat each blow, was, for Athelstane's great strength, now animated withunusual fury, but the work of a single moment; he was soon within twoyards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest tone.

”Turn, false-hearted Templar! let go her whom thou art unworthy totouch--turn, limb of a hand of murdering and hypocritical robbers!”

”Dog!” said the Templar, grinding his teeth, ”I will teach thee toblaspheme the holy Order of the Temple of Zion;” and with these words,half-wheeling his steed, he made a demi-courbette towards the Saxon, andrising in the stirrups, so as to take full advantage of the descent ofthe horse, he discharged a fearful blow upon the head of Athelstane.

Well said Wamba, that silken bonnet keeps out no steel blade. Sotrenchant was the Templar's weapon, that it shore asunder, as it hadbeen a willow twig, the tough and plaited handle of the mace, which theill-fated Saxon reared to parry the blow, and, descending on his head,levelled him with the earth.

”'Ha! Beau-seant!'” exclaimed Bois-Guilbert, ”thus be it to themaligners of the Temple-knights!” Taking advantage of the dismay whichwas spread by the fall of Athelstane, and calling aloud, ”Those whowould save themselves, follow me!” he pushed across the drawbridge,dispersing the archers who would have intercepted them. He was followedby his Saracens, and some five or six men-at-arms, who had mounted theirhorses. The Templar's retreat was rendered perilous by the numbers ofarrows shot off at him and his party; but this did not prevent him fromgalloping round to the barbican, of which, according to his previousplan, he supposed it possible De Bracy might have been in possession.

”De Bracy! De Bracy!” he shouted, ”art thou there?”

”I am here,” replied De Bracy, ”but I am a prisoner.”

”Can I rescue thee?” cried Bois-Guilbert.

”No,” replied De Bracy; ”I have rendered me, rescue or no rescue. I willbe true prisoner. Save thyself--there are hawks abroad--put the seasbetwixt you and England--I dare not say more.”

”Well,” answered the Templar, ”an thou wilt tarry there, remember Ihave redeemed word and glove. Be the hawks where they will, methinksthe walls of the Preceptory of Templestowe will be cover sufficient, andthither will I, like heron to her haunt.”

Having thus spoken, he galloped off with his followers.

Those of the castle who had not gotten to horse, still continuedto fight desperately with the besiegers, after the departure of theTemplar, but rather in despair of quarter than that they entertained anyhope of escape. The fire was spreading rapidly through all parts of thecastle, when Ulrica, who had first kindled it, appeared on a turret, inthe guise of one of the ancient furies, yelling forth a war-song, suchas was of yore raised on the field of battle by the scalds of theyet heathen Saxons. Her long dishevelled grey hair flew back from heruncovered head; the inebriating delight of gratified vengeance contendedin her eyes with the fire of insanity; and she brandished the distaffwhich she held in her hand, as if she had been one of the Fatal Sisters,who spin and abridge the thread of human life. Tradition has preservedsome wild strophes of the barbarous hymn which she chanted wildly amidthat scene of fire and of slaughter:--

1. Whet the bright steel, Sons of the White Dragon! Kindle the torch, Daughter of Hengist! The steel glimmers not for the carving of the banquet, It is hard, broad, and sharply pointed; The torch goeth not to the bridal chamber, It steams and glitters blue with sulphur. Whet the steel, the raven croaks! Light the torch, Zernebock is yelling! Whet the steel, sons of the Dragon! Kindle the torch, daughter of Hengist!

2. The black cloud is low over the thane's castle The eagle screams--he rides on its bosom. Scream not, grey rider of the sable cloud, Thy banquet is prepared! The maidens of Valhalla look forth, The race of Hengist will send them guests. Shake your black tresses, maidens of Valhalla! And strike your loud timbrels for joy! Many a haughty step bends to your halls, Many a helmed head.

3. Dark sits the evening upon the thanes castle, The black clouds gather round; Soon shall they be red as the blood of the valiant! The destroyer of forests shall shake his red crest against them. He, the bright consumer of palaces, Broad waves he his blazing banner, Red, wide and dusky, Over the strife of the valiant: His joy is in the clashing swords and broken bucklers; He loves to lick the hissing blood as it bursts warm from the wound!

4. All must perish! The sword cleaveth the helmet; The strong armour is pierced by the lance; Fire devoureth the dwelling of princes, Engines break down the fences of the battle. All must perish! The race of Hengist is gone-- The name of Horsa is no more! Shrink not then from your doom, sons of the sword! Let your blades drink blood like wine; Feast ye in the banquet of slaughter, By the light of the blazing halls! Strong be your swords while your blood is warm, And spare neither for pity nor fear, For vengeance hath but an hour; Strong hate itself shall expire I also must perish! [39]

The towering flames had now surmounted every obstruction, and rose tothe evening skies one huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide throughthe adjacent country. Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roofand rafter; and the combatants were driven from the court-yard. Thevanquished, of whom very few remained, scattered and escaped into theneighbouring wood. The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed withwonder, not unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in which their own ranksand arms glanced dusky red. The maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica wasfor a long time visible on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossingher arms abroad with wild exultation, as if she reined empress of theconflagration which she had raised. At length, with a terrific crash,the whole turret gave way, and she perished in the flames which hadconsumed her tyrant. An awful pause of horror silenced each murmur ofthe armed spectators, who, for the space of several minutes, stirred nota finger, save to sign the cross. The voice of Locksley was then heard,”Shout, yeomen!--the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring hisspoil to our chosen place of rendezvous at the Trysting-tree in theHarthill-walk; for there at break of day will we make just partitionamong our own bands, together with our worthy allies in this great deedof vengeance.”