by G. A. Henty
“I should think, Egbert, that if we could get some skins or planks we and our band might, when it is quite dark, sally out and take to the water at the lower end of the island and float down quietly for a mile or two, and then gain the further bank; then we might march along quietly until we reach those ships. The Danes know that we have no boats, and will not fear an attack. We must not do it until an hour or two before morning, when, after spending the early hours of the night as usual in feasting and drinking, they will sleep heavily. Just before we are ready to begin a small party can unmoor two or three of the boats by the bank and push them out, one to the outside of each tier of six vessels, so that we may have a means of retreat across the river. When that is done we will make a rush on board the ships, cut down any Danes we may find there, and set fire to all the vessels. We must hold the gangways to the shore until the flames get well alight, and then take to the boats and return.”
“I think the plan is a good one, Edmund, and may well be carried out without great loss. There are plenty of empty wine skins at present in Paris. I will at once set about collecting a hundred of them. We will fasten to each a stout cord so as to form a loop to go over the head and shoulders, then we had best attach them all together by one long cord, by which means we shall float in a body.”
“Fortunately the night is very dark and I think that we shall succeed. Say nothing about it, Egbert, and tell the men to keep silent. The good people of Paris shall know nothing of the matter until they see the flames dancing round the towers which they hold in so much dread.”
The Saxons received with satisfaction the news of the intended expedition. They had been disappointed at being kept back from taking any part in the fighting during the two days’ attack upon the tower, and longed for an opportunity to inflict a blow upon their hated enemy the Danes. The wine skins were fitted up with ropes as Egbert had suggested, and soon after nightfall the party, armed with spear and sword, and carrying each his float, sallied out from the gates, as Edmund was by this time so well known among the citizens that the gate was opened without demur on his order.
They crept along the foot of the wall until they reached the lower extremity of the island. Across the river innumerable fires blazed high, and the songs and shouts of the Danes rose loud in the air. Numbers of figures could be seen moving about or standing near the fires, the tents of the chiefs were visible some distance back, but the number of these as well as of the fires was much less than it had been on the first arrival of the Northmen, owing to the numbers who had gone to the camp round St. Germain.
The night was very dark and a light rain was falling. Before taking to the water Edmund bade his men strip off the greater portion of their clothes and fasten them in a bundle on their heads, as it would be some time after they landed before they could advance upon the camp, and the cold and dripping garments would tend to lessen their spirits and courage.
When all was ready they stepped into the water, and keeping in a body, drifted down the stream. The wine skins floated them well above the water, the stream was running strong, and the lights of the Danish fires were soon left behind.
In half an hour Edmund and Egbert deemed that they were now far beyond a point where they might chance upon any Danish stragglers. The word was therefore given, and all made for the bank. The stream had already drifted them in that direction, and they soon reached the shore. Here the skins which had proved so useful were left behind, and putting on their dry clothes, they felt comparatively comfortable. Edmund ordered them to lay down their spears and swords by their sides, and to swing their arms violently. This they continued to do until they were nearly breathless, by which time the blood was coursing warmly in their veins.
They were now in December, and the water was extremely cold, and Egbert congratulated Edmund upon having made the men strip, for had they been compelled to remain in their wet garments while waiting for the Danish fires to die down, they would scarce have been in a fit state to fight when the moment for so doing had arrived.
Three hours elapsed before the glare of the distant fires began to subside, another half hour passed, and then the band were formed up and moved along on the bank of the river.
CHAPTER XIV
THE REPULSE OF THE NORSEMEN
When within half a mile of the Danish camp Edmund and Egbert left the band and advanced alone. They were pretty confident that they should find but few of the Danes near the bank of the river, for the arrows from the walls of Paris carried some distance beyond it, and the Northmen consequently encamped some hundred yards away. They had to pick their way carefully, for the ships were moored along the bank, their ropes being fastened to great stakes driven into the ground.
There were lights on board the vessels, many of the crews remaining on board. They made their way along until they reached the spot they aimed at. Here lay the three sets of vessels, each six deep; their masts had been removed, and the great towers rose high into the darkness above the platforms extending over their decks.
The planks forming the gangways up which the towers had been moved had been taken away, save one which gave access to each tier, and Edmund doubted not that it was intended that they should the next morning move across the river in tow of the numerous row-boats. The two Saxons did not attempt to go on board, as they had now found out all they wanted, and might mar all by disturbing some sleeper upon the platform. They accordingly returned to the spot where the band were awaiting them.
“I propose, Egbert,” Edmund said, “that as we go along we cut the mooring-ropes of all the vessels. We must do it quietly so as not to excite any alarm, and they will know nothing of it until they find themselves drifting down the river in a mass. Then there will be great jostling and carrying away of bowsprits and bulwarks, and the confusion and shouting which will arise will tend to confuse the Danes and to distract their attention from us.”
Egbert agreed to the proposal, and as soon as they reached the first ships the Saxons began their work, sawing with their knives and daggers through the ropes. The vessels lay four or five deep and there were many cables to cut, but the keen knives of the Saxons made short work of these. Before beginning their work they had spread along the bank, leaving only two men abreast of each ship, so that in the course of two or three minutes the cables for the length of forty ships were severed, and these and their consorts beyond them began to drift out into the stream.
The Saxons ran quickly on ahead and repeated the work until the whole of the vessels below those forming the platform for the towers were adrift in the stream; but by this time those in the ships at the lower end of the tiers had taken the alarm, and shouts of wonder and anger rose on the air. The nine Saxons told off for the purpose leaped into three small boats and rowed out into the stream, while the rest of the band, divided into three parties, dashed across the planks on to the platforms. The Danes here had already been alarmed by the uproar from the vessels adrift, and although unable to see what was passing judged that something was wrong, and had called to their comrades sleeping in the holds to come up.
Some of these bearing torches came up on deck just as the Saxons, pouring across the planks which connected the ships with the shore, fell upon them. Taken utterly by surprise, the Danes could offer no effective resistance. The Saxons, charging with levelled spears, drove those above headlong into the water; then, having made themselves masters of the platforms, they dashed below and despatched the Danes they found there. The torches were now applied to the contents of the holds. These were for the most part crammed with the booty which the Norsemen had gained at Havre, Rouen, and other places, and the flames speedily shot up. By this time the Danes in the camp, alarmed by the shouting from the drifting ships and the sounds of conflict from the towers, came flocking down in haste. The planks had already been thrown overboard. The Danes strove by pulling at the ropes to haul the vessels nearer to land. Some ran towards their ships, others jumped into boats, and pushing out to the platforms strove to get on board them; b
ut by this time the flames were rising high through the hatchways. According to previous agreement Edmund and the leaders of the other two parties, seeing that the flames had now firm hold, cut the ropes which fastened them to the bank, and as soon as the stream began to swing them out leaped into the boats and rowed for the opposite shore.
The uproar was now tremendous; and shouts of rage rose from the Northmen, who were amazed and puzzled by the appearance of the Saxons, whose attire differed but slightly from their own; and the general belief among them was that this sudden alarm was the result of treachery among themselves. There was no time to waste in conjecture; the three groups of ships were now masses of flame, in the midst of which the lofty towers rose high. The shouts of the sailors in the vessels crowded together in helpless confusion in the stream below rose higher and higher as the blazing vessels drifted down and threatened to overtake them.
Some tried to hoist their sails; others got out long oars and strove to sweep their vessels towards the shore, but they were huddled too closely in the stream; the yards and rigging of many having become interlocked with each other. The Northmen leaped into the rowing boats by the bank above where the tower-ships had been moored, and rowing down endeavoured to tow them to the bank; but they were now in a blaze from end to end, the heat was so great that it was difficult to approach them, and all endeavours to fasten ropes to them were frustrated, as these were instantly consumed. The Northmen, finding their efforts unavailing, then turned their attention to trying to tow the ships below to the banks.
In some cases they were successful. A few of the vessels also at the lower end of the mass succeeded in getting up their sails and drawing out from their fellows, for the wind was blowing down stream. This, however, proved the destruction of the rest of the ships, for the great towers rising amid the lofty pillars of flames acted as sails and bore the fire-ships down upon the helpless crowd of vessels.
Soon they reached those nearest to them, and the flames, borne forward by the wind, sprang from vessel to vessel. There was no longer any hope of saving a single ship; and the crews, climbing hastily across from one to the other till they reached those nearest to the shore, leaped overboard. Although now more than half a mile below the city the flames lit up the walls with a bright glare, and the shouts of the exulting Franks rose loud and continuous.
The sudden shouting which had broken out among the Danes had alarmed the watchmen, who, ignorant of the cause, called the citizens to arms, and these on reaching the walls had stood astonished at the spectacle. The flames were already rising from the three groups of ships which they had regarded with so much anxiety on the previous evening, and by the light they could see the river below covered with a mass of drifting vessels. Then they saw the tower-ships float away from the bank, and the figures on their decks leap into three small boats, which at once rowed with all speed across the river.
That they were friends who had wrought this destruction was certain, and Count Eudes threw open the gate, and with the Abbe Ebble ran down to meet them. They were astonished when Edmund with his Saxons leaped to land.
“What miracle is this?” the count exclaimed.
“A simple matter, Sir Count,” Edmund answered. “My kinsman and I, seeing that the townspeople were troubled by yonder towers, determined to destroy them. We have succeeded in doing so, and with them I trust fully half of the Danish fleet will perish.”
“You are the saviour of our town, my brave young Saxon,” Count Eudes cried, embracing him. “If Paris is saved it will be thanks to the valiant deed that you have accomplished this night. But let us to the walls again, where we may the better see whether the Danes can remove their ships from those great furnaces which are bearing down upon them.”
The sight from the walls, when the fire-ships reached the fleet and the flames spread, was grand in the extreme, for in half an hour nigh three hundred vessels were in flames. For some time the three towers rose like pillars of fire above the burning mass; then one by one they fell with a crash, which could be plainly heard, although they were now near a mile away.
Paris was wild with joy at the destruction of the towers which had menaced it, and the conflagration of nigh half the Danish fleet, laden with the spoil of northern France. Edmund and his Saxons were conducted in triumph by a shouting crowd to the palace of the archbishop, where Goslin, in the name of the city, returned them the heartiest thanks for the services which they had rendered. The wealthy citizens vied with each other in bestowing costly presents upon them, bonfires were lighted in the streets, and till morning the town gave itself up to revelry and rejoicing.
A month elapsed before the Danes recovered from the blow which had been dealt them and resumed the assault. Part of this time had been spent in manufacturing great shields of bull’s hide. These were strongly constructed, and were each capable of covering six men. On the 29th of January their preparations were complete, and at daybreak the warders on the wall saw them pouring down into their ships and galleys. As the fleet crossed the river its aspect was singular. The decks were covered by the black shields, above which appeared a forest of spears, sparkling in the morning sunlight. As they reached the shore the Northmen sprang to land, while from the decks of the vessels a storm of missiles flew towards the walls. Vast numbers of catapults, which they had manufactured since their last attack, hurled masses of stone, heavy javelins, and leaden bullets, while thousands of arrows darkened the air.
The bells of the church sounded the alarm, which called every citizen capable of bearing arms to the walls. The archbishop took his place at the spot most threatened by the enemy, with his nephew, the valiant abbe, by his side. The Counts Eudes, Robert, Ragenaire, Utton, and Herilang stood foremost among the defenders.
The Saxons, as before, were held in reserve, but to Edmund and Egbert had been assigned, at their urgent request, the command of the defence of the tower. It was against this point that the Danes again made their most desperate effort. Their main body advanced against it, and smaller parties attacked the city at other points, while the rowing galleys, divided into two bodies, strove to destroy the bridge, and so isolate the defenders of the post.
Around the tower the combat was desperate. The assailants were well-nigh hidden under their great bucklers. Their shouts, and the constant clashing of arms which they maintained, made a terrific uproar; a storm of missiles from the fleet poured upon the tower, while from the crevices between the shields the bowmen shot incessantly at the defenders. The very number of the Danes hindered their attack, for the tower was so small that comparatively few could approach at once.
It had been greatly strengthened since the last assault, and through the loopholes in the walls the archers did their best to answer the storm of missiles poured into the fort. Edmund and Egbert went among them, begging them not to fire at random, but to choose moments when the movements of the assailants opened a space in the roof of shields which covered them.
Whenever this took place a dozen arrows fell true to the mark. Some of those bearing the shield would be struck, and these falling, a gap would be caused through which the arrows of the defenders flew thickly, causing death and confusion until the shield could be raised in its place again. Boiling liquids were poured over those who approached the walls, and huge stones crushed the shields and their bearers.
Eudes and his men valiantly defended the wall, and the Danes in vain strove to scale it. All day long the battle continued, but at nightfall the tower still remained in the hands of the defenders, the deep ditch which they had dug round it having prevented the Danes from working at the wall, as they had done in the previous assault.
When darkness came on the Danes did not retire, but lay down in the positions they occupied, under their shields. In the morning many ships were seen crossing the river again, and the defenders saw to their surprise numbers of captives who had been collected from the surrounding country, troops of oxen, ship-loads of branches of trees, trusses of hay and corn, and faggots of vines landed. The
ir surprise became horror when they saw the captives and the cattle alike slaughtered as they landed. Their bodies were brought forward under cover of the shields and thrown into the moat, in which, too, were cast the hay, straw, faggots, and trees.
At the sight of the massacre the archbishop prayed to the Virgin to give him strength, and drawing a bow to its full strength, let fly an arrow, which, great as was the distance, flew true to its mark and struck the executioner full in the face. This apparent miracle of the Virgin in their favour re-animated the spirit of the defenders; and a solemn service was instantly held in the church in her honour, and prayers were offered to her to save Lutece, which was the original name of Paris, and was still cherished by its inhabitants.
The Danes were occupied all day at their work of filling up the moat. The besieged were not idle, but laboured at the construction of several mangonels capable of casting huge blocks of stone. In the morning the Danes planted their battering-rams, one on each side of the tower, and recommenced the assault. The new machines of the defenders did great havoc in their ranks, their heavy stones crashing through the roof of bucklers and crushing those who held them, and for a time the Norsemen desisted from the attack.
They now filled three of their largest vessels with combustibles, and placing them on the windward side of the bridge, set them alight. The people of Paris beheld with afright these fire-ships bearing down upon the bridge, and old and young burst into tears and cries at the view of the approaching destruction, and, led by the archbishop, all joined in a prayer to St. Germain, the patron saint of Paris, to protect the city. The exulting Danes replied to the cries of those on the walls with triumphant shouts. Thanks, as the Franks believed, to the interposition of St. Germain, the fireships struck against the pile of stones from which the beams supporting the bridge in the centre were raised. Eudes and his companions leaped down from the bridge and with hatchets hewed holes in the sides of the ships at the water-line, and they sank without having effected any damage to the bridge.
