*CHAPTER XXI.*
_*THE CASTLE FALLS.*_
The unfortunate Lady Aliva was in despair.
The cup of happiness had been rudely dashed from her lips. After allher perils and anxieties of the last few weeks, her lover had beensuddenly restored to her; once more she had heard his voice, hadlistened to his vows and caressing words, but only to see him slain, asshe imagined, by his rival before her very eyes. From the summit ofunexpected joy she was plunged into a depth of misery tenfold harder tobear than that which had gone before. All hope seemed over.
But within some twenty-four hours she was rudely awakened from her griefby the horrible din of the assault, which at dawn of day commencedagainst the old tower and the inner bailey.
"Hark how the hall, resounding to the strain, Shakes with the martial music's novel din! The heralds of a warrior's haughty reign, High-crested banners wave thy walls within. Of changing sentinels, the distant hum, The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnished arms, The braying trumpets, and the hoarser drum Unite in concert with increased alarms."
"The wall is rent, the ruins yawn, And, with to-morrow's earliest dawn, O'er the disjointed mass shall vault The foremost of the fierce assault."
The storm of war reached nearer to the ladies in the keep than it hadever yet done. Through the crack of the closely-shuttered windows theycould watch the fray below, and catch the sound of angry voices borne upto them, and mingling with the crash of falling masonry.
The Lady Margaret, whose shattered nerves could ill bear such tumult,betook herself to the little chapel in the angle of the wall, and passedthe time upon her knees in prayer. But Aliva and Beatrice, impelled bythe curiosity of youth, could not forbear to see what was to be seen.
The point of interest was the old tower. The girls knew it to beundermined, and watched anxiously to see it totter to its fall.
"I see a mass of soldiers gathering under the outer wall and halting asif for a signal," cried Aliva.
"The tower will soon fall, and these are ready to rush in," saidBeatrice.
"But how falls it?" asked Aliva. "Thou art in the miner's secrets;tell, prithee."
"They tie ropes to the great wooden beams and props on which John hathsupported the foundations. At a safe distance stand men ready to pullthem away; and then--ah, our Lady have them in her keeping!"
And as she spoke a sound was heard, a rumbling as of thunder, followedby a cloud of blinding dust, which obscured everything--court-yard, men,and masonry. There was a fearful crash, and the girls shrank withterror and looked at each other.
"Oh, this is horrible!" whispered Aliva, hiding her face.
"My lady, my lady, I can see! The tower is down--it is a heap ofrubble; and they come, they come! O lady, you are saved!"
"Saved!" said Aliva with a sad smile, shaking her head; "what boots itnow? What wish have I for aught but death?"
"Death, lady? and in the moment of victory? Oh, speak not so! See theking's men, how they hurry, they scramble, they pour through the breach!'Tis a noble sight. Forward, forward! Down with the Breaute!" shoutedthe excited waiting-woman, opening the shutter wide and craning out herneck.
"Beatrice, have a care. They will let fly a bolt at thee, and what willsay the master miner? _Thou_ hast some one to live for!"
"If I die for it, I must look!" protested Beatrice. "Oh, the king's men,how they fall! Alas, alas! William de Breaute hath well posted his menin all the best places for defence! But on they come--they waver not!By my halidom, there comes a gallant band, though small! How fast thatknight leads them across the inner bailey! They make for the steps ofthe door of the keep. But how thick the arrows fly! William must havelined every loophole in the donjon and in the hall with men!"
"But how the royal men-at-arms pour in! De Breaute is faroutnumbered--his men fly--they fall back--they seek to gain the steps,"gasped Aliva, looking over Beatrice's shoulder.
"Gallantly done, gallantly done! That little close band follows themhard up the steps. Well led, Sir Knight! (Hold my hand, prithee, lady,lest I fall out and break my neck! I _must_ see.) But our men make astand upon the steps; that is to gain time to close the door. Theswords are at it now--I hear the ringing. Ah me! it is Sir Williamhimself defends the steps. He raises his sword; he will smite that boldknight who leads them! He _has_ smitten--By our Lady, 'twas a nearthing! Who was that parried the stroke with his staff? I see! a manin monkish dress. And now the knight falls--he rolls down thesteps--his armour is heavy--he strives in vain to rise, but alack,alack!"
"What seest thou? speak, Beatrice!"
"The poor brother, lady, he who saved the knight--he has fallen. Oh, hemoves not! Alack, he is slain!"
"They are all falling back; what means it, Beatrice?"
"I cannot see, lady; the wooden porch over the steps hinders me. Butthe knight has risen--he is unhurt--he calls his men back."
"They retreat--they retreat?"
"Meseemeth Sir William and his men have shut to the door, lady," repliedBeatrice, drawing in her head; and as the two girls stared blankly ineach other's faces, the Lady Margaret, pallid and haggard, entered theapartment.
"Daughters," she exclaimed, "the king's men have won the inner bailey;the old tower is down; we now only hold the keep!"
That evening sore disappointment reigned in the camp of the besiegers.Had they but been able to reach the door ere it was closed, the keepwould have been theirs; but as it was, they were compelled to draw offafter considerable loss from the storm of arrows which rained upon themfrom the loopholes.
All had to be begun over again. John de Standen and his men once moreset to work. The cat was wheeled up close to the walls of the keep, andthe digging recommenced. This time the task was more laborious anddifficult than ever. The foundations were strongly laid. The work ofPain de Beauchamp was built to last, and the besieged did all they couldto hinder the operations. It was not till the fourteenth of August thatDe Standen could report that his work was ready.
Late that afternoon the fourth and last attack commenced. The minerssprung a huge fissure in the wall of the keep. Simultaneously anotheragent was set to work--fire. A light was set to the wooden porch overthe steps.
The work was finished. The flames, caught the woodwork within, andbroke out in some of the apartments. Through fire and smoke thebesiegers stormed the breach, the besieged fighting desperately, andonly yielding step by step.
"Through fire and smoke the besiegers stormed thebreach."]
At last, however, William de Breaute was forced to acknowledge himselfbeaten.
"My brother cannot say I did not do my utmost," he gasped to one of hisofficers as they leaned exhausted against the pillar of the turretstair.
"Yield thee, now yield thee, William de Breaute!" cried a voice throughthe din.
"I yield me to the king's mercy," began the Frenchman, "but not tothee," he added, as the tall form and gloomy visage of William deBeauchamp loomed down upon through the smoke. "To a De Beauchamp?never!"
His men had ceased to offer any resistance, and stood with spears andswords point downwards and cross-bows unstrung. William looked around.
"My Lord Lisle of Rougemount, I surrender to you, rescue or no rescue."
The baron thus addressed seized De Breaute's outstretched sword, andsignalled to his men. They closed round the prisoner and his immediateattendants, and prepared to march them off to the dungeon.
But as they crossed the great hall they met a young knight, followed bytwo or three men-at-arms, hurrying towards the turret stair.
"Ho, nephew!" exclaimed Sir William de Beauchamp, pointing to LordLisle's prisoner with the nearest approach to a smile of which hislugubrious features were capable; "see here! He hath tried long enoughhow it feels to sit in our great hall; we go now to give him a taste ofour dungeon."
William de Breaute turned his head, and for the first t
ime, and for afew moments only, found himself face to face with his rival, Ralph deBeauchamp. He cast upon him a look in which malignant hatred wasmingled with the haggard despair of frustrated hopes.
"Dog!" he ejaculated, "methought thou liedst safe at the bottom of thymuddy Ouse!"
"Not so safe as thou wilt shortly lie in our donjon vaults," retortedRalph, scarcely deigning to glance at him. "I can dive, man."
The guards led on.
To engage in such open rebellion against Henry was a somewhat differentmatter to joining in the confederation of barons against the tyranny andinjustice of King John, as William de Beauchamp had done: and as Williamde Breaute and his men were led away down the steep stairs to the gloomycells beneath the keep, they felt that their doom was sealed.
The Robber Baron of Bedford Castle Page 21
