Chapter XIII: Part 13

Immediately Harry wheeled round and dashed back to the support of his men, now engaged in a desperate and unequal battle. Their backs to the coach, they were facing dauntlessly thrice their number of infuriated brigands, who had discarded their firearms and came to the attack with swords flashing in ever-narrowing circles. One of the dragoons had already fallen; but his comrades were all tough soldiers tried on many a battle-field, recking nothing of the odds, every man with full confidence in himself and his fellows. They were ranged in a quarter circle against the coach, with just enough space between them to allow free play with their weapons. Twice already had they beaten back the enemy; a third and more determined onslaught had somewhat broken their formation, and two men had been wounded and forced back, exposing the flank of the others. Harry sprang through the coach just in time to close the gap. He hurled himself into the fray with a shout; the enemy, taking him for the advance-guard of reinforcements, fell back for a moment; and before they could recover and return to the charge there was a thunderous clatter on the bridge, the eleven troopers flung themselves from their steeds, and scrambling man by man through the coach gave threefold strength to the hard-pressed line.

"Charge!" shouted Harry in his clear, ringing voice.

The men surged forward with a roar of exultation, scattering the brigands to the limits of the courtyard. Two or three bolted like rabbits into the keep; the rest cried for quarter and flung down their arms; the din of battle suddenly ceased, and some seventeen panic-stricken prisoners were the prize of the victors.

"Max, go into the keep, up the stairs to the top, and tell me what you see."

From the parapet of the keep Max shouted that he saw a large troop of horse not a mile away, galloping amain towards the castle.

"Men, with me!" cried Harry.

Twelve dragoons sprang through the coach after him, and with haste helped him to draw the planks of the bridge within the archway. They had completed their task save for the last plank when the foremost files of the enemy galloped up, checking their horses at the very brink when they saw the unbridged gap before them; no horse could cross on a two-foot plank. Harry withdrew his men just in time to escape the bullets fired at them by the baulked and enraged brigands. At the last moment he himself stooped, lifted the end of the plank, and hurled it into the fosse. A slug whizzed past his head; he dashed back under the archway, through the coach, breathless but safe.

As he stepped through the coach into the courtyard he heard a groan. His wounded men had been carried into the keep; at the moment no trooper was near. Bending down, he looked beneath the coach, and saw the landlord lying flat on his face, his head buried in his arms, groaning dismally.

"Are you hit, landlord?" asked Harry.

"Lord have mercy on my soul!" groaned the man.

"Never mind your soul; are your limbs sound? Come out, and let me look at you."

A palpitating mass crawled from beneath the vehicle. Dirty, chap-fallen, and dishevelled, but unhurt, the landlord stood in trembling and pitiful cowardice.

"Where are you hurt? Come, I've no time to waste. Why," he added, as he turned the man round and examined him, "you haven't a scratch. You're a pretty consort of ruffians! Get away into the keep and make yourself useful, or----"

The man scrambled away in limp despair, and Harry smiled grimly as he went about his pressing task.

He knew that he was safe for a time. The two hundred men outside were completely cut off from their quarters. "If they want their castle they must come and take it," thought Harry. They could only enter by one of three ways: the main entrance, if they repaired the bridge--but that could be prevented by marksmen within; the tunnel--but that could be blocked up; the tower by which he himself had escaped--but one or two men there could easily prohibit access by the slope and postern. Harry set a sentinel at each point, and then made a rapid survey of the position.

He found that the castle contained, besides a huge quantity of plunder, a plentiful stock of provisions, arms, and ammunition. There were indeed many bags of powder ranged carelessly around the walls of the courtyard, and these Harry had removed to a more secure place in one of the towers, and covered with sacking. He then went up on the battlements to see what the enemy were about. They had withdrawn to a knoll at some distance and dismounted, and an exciting discussion appeared to be going on among their leaders. Harry called to Max to remain on the look-out and report any fresh movement among them; then he prepared to visit the dungeons.

The prisoners had been secured in the hall of the keep.

"Which of you acts as warder?" asked Harry, entering the hall.

"Zooks! if it an't young Mr. Rochester!" said an amazed voice in English. "I be the warder, Mr. Rochester."

"You, John Simmons! Now, answer me quickly: are there any prisoners below?"

"There be two, sir, certainly, and I was against it--that's the truth, sir; I was against it, but the capt'n he would cool their courage, he said, and what could I do, sir?--though it did cut me to the heart to serve Mr. Fanshawe so----"

"Hold your tongue, knave! Take me to the place at once."

"I was against it," muttered the man, as he led the way out of the hall, through the stone passage, into a room near the spot at which Harry had ascended from the tunnel. Here he lifted a slab in the floor, and let down a rope ladder, coiled beneath it, into a pit of blackness.

"They are there?" exclaimed Harry in horror, as he peered down, and found himself unable to discern anything.

"I was against it," murmured Simmons again.

"The inhuman fiends!" cried Harry. "Fanshawe, are you there?" he called into the mouth of the dungeon, his voice echoing strangely from the hollow.

"Yes," came the faint answer. "Who are you?"

"'Tis Harry Rochester, old fellow. We'll have you out in a trice,--and Lieutenant Buckley, too; is he with you?"

"Ay. Is the ladder down?"

"Yes. Come along; we're all friends here."

Soon Fanshawe's fair head appeared above the hole. Harry caught his arm and helped him to step on to the floor.

"God bless you, Harry!" he said feebly. His cheeks were drawn and pale; his eyes sunken and haggard; his hair was dank and disordered; and he tottered and would have fallen but for Harry's sustaining arm. After him came a young officer whom Harry did not know. He, too, showed signs of suffering, but his incarceration was shorter by several days than Fanshawe's, and he was not so much overcome by the sudden return to light and liberty.

"Poor old fellow!" said Harry, linking his arm in Fanshawe's. "Come and let me make you comfortable. I'll tell you all about things by and by, and hear what you have to tell. We must get you right first. Aglionby shall pay for this!"

The two luckless prisoners were taken to the hall and given food.

"I've fed 'em twice a day reg'lar," said Simmons. "They ha'n't wanted for nothing, and I was against keeping 'em shut in that there damp and foul hole."

"Silence, fellow! Go and bury the men killed in the fight. Then come to me."

Having made Fanshawe and Buckley as comfortable as possible, Harry selected one of his own men to act as store-keeper, and then, as a sudden idea struck him, called for the landlord. The man could not at first be found, but after some search was discovered and hauled with many gibes into Harry's presence.

"Cease whimpering and listen to me," said Harry. "You must do something to earn your food. You shall be cook. Doubtless you know the arrangements of this place; go and prepare a good meal for the men, and do your best; it will be to your interest."

Ascending then to the top of the keep, he sent Max down to get some breakfast, and looked around. The enemy were not in sight. They had evidently withdrawn into the copse about half a mile distant; perhaps under cover of it they had drawn off altogether. But knowing their leader, and imagining the fury with which he must have seen the frustration of his carefully-laid plans, Harry could not believe that he would tamely accept the check as final. Aglionby, whatever his faults, did not lack courage. He was not likely to throw up the game at the loss of the first trick. He would probably assume that it was Prince Eugene himself who had stolen a march upon him; in that case he would suppose that he had the prince caged in the castle; and whatever advantage he had expected to derive from the capture of the prince would induce him to strain every nerve to prevent him from escaping. His aim, Harry supposed, had been to hand Prince Eugene over to the Elector of Bavaria, and reap much credit as well as a more tangible recompense. In order to entrap the prince he had sent on Fanshawe's letter by another hand. If he returned to the Elector's army without his prize, when the odds had seemed all in his favour, he would become the laughing-stock of the camp. Harry therefore felt certain that he would attempt to retake the castle at whatever cost.

If he should succeed, Harry knew that he himself need expect no mercy. Aglionby had a long account against him; time after time his plans had been foiled; the sole item on the credit side, the saving of his life at Breda, was likely, in a man of his disposition, only to deepen his rancour.

He would, of course, sooner or later find out his mistake in regard to Prince Eugene; and when the discovery was made he would expect the prince to send a force at the first opportunity to relieve the men, whoever they were, who had captured the castle, or at any rate to avenge their fate. In either case Aglionby would lose no time, but would hasten by all the means in his power any attack he might meditate. So far as Harry could judge, he had nearly three hundred men under his command; it would not be long before he learnt, if indeed he did not already know, that the present holders of the castle did not number more than a score. In the circumstances he would almost certainly attempt to take the place by assault, and the obvious point of attack was the gateway. The bridge was broken down; the fosse was too deep to be filled up; the attackers would therefore have to construct another bridge, and the fosse being little more than twenty feet wide, they could easily rig up a portable platform strong enough to carry them to the assault. There was plenty of timber in the neighbourhood; with the force at his disposal Aglionby might make a serviceable bridge in a few hours.

Meanwhile, what was Harry to do with the prisoners? The question gave him some trouble. He had plenty of provisions; there would be no difficulty in feeding them; but if he kept them in the castle they would require a guard of at least one man day and night, so that of his own little band two men would practically be lost for effective defence. If, on the other hand, he let them loose, he would add eighteen men, fourteen of whom were unhurt, to the enemy's strength. Deciding that on the whole it would be best to keep them, he went down to settle their fate without loss of time.

He gave them one by one the option of making himself useful in the defence of the castle, or of being lowered into the dungeon whence Fanshawe and Buckley had just been released. With one consent the men elected to avoid the dungeon. Harry at once set some of them to collect stones from the more ruinous parts of the castle, and to pile them up across the gateway, leaving loopholes for musketry fire. Others he ordered to take a supply of heavy stones to the summit of the keep, and to stack them there out of sight from the distant copse. Three armed men accompanied each squad to prevent treachery. In pursuance of the plan of defence that was forming in his mind, Harry went himself to the most dilapidated of the three towers, and selecting two or three specially large blocks of stone, weighing at a guess about a hundred-weight each, he had them loosened from the debris and carried up the winding stair of the keep. In the courtyard he saw a number of stout poles, for which a use at once suggested itself. As they would not go up the winding stair, he got one of the men to splice several lengths of rope, and the long rope thus formed was let down from the top of the keep and knotted to one end of the poles, which were then drawn up the tower on the side facing the courtyard.

When these tasks had been completed, the prisoners were placed in the ground-floor room of one of the towers, and a man was set over them, with orders to shoot any who should attempt to move from the place. Harry divided his garrison into watches as on board ship, each watch to be on duty for four hours. Every man had his post, and, entering into their young leader's spirit, the dragoons accepted readily the duties laid upon them, and showed themselves full of a light-hearted confidence that augured well for their success. One and all they were hugely delighted with the trick, and discussed it among themselves with much merriment, exasperating Max, however, by the mock deference they still paid to him as Prince Eugene.

As soon as he had a spare moment, Harry got from Fanshawe and Buckley an account of their experiences. As he had guessed, Fanshawe had been captured at dead of night in the inn, his captors coming through the trap-door. Buckley had been misdirected by the landlord, and, losing his way, had fallen into an ambush. Both had been kept in the dungeon day and night, and fed twice a day. In his turn Harry related the chain of adventures which had ended so happily for them, and when he told them something of his plans for the future they both declared themselves well enough to assist him. This, however, he would not allow for the present, promising to avail himself of their help as soon as they had had time to recover from the effects of their confinement.

Just before noon, the man on the look-out at the gateway announced that one of the enemy was approaching with a flag of truce. Harry climbed up to the battlements to the left of the keep, and as soon as the man was within earshot demanded his business. Speaking in French, the messenger said that he had come at his captain's order to say that if Prince Eugene surrendered, he would be granted honourable treatment, and conducted to the camp of his highness the Elector of Bavaria, his men being allowed to go free. If these terms were rejected, the castle would be stormed and every member of the garrison would be put to the sword. The decision must be made in half an hour. Harry smiled.

"You may take our answer now," he said. "Tell your captain that soldiers of the confederate army do not yield to brigands and cut-throats."

The messenger rode back to the copse, and for some hours there was no further sign of the enemy, except for a few men who were noticed moving about a stretch of marshy ground about a mile from the castle. Harry wondered what their object could be, and calling Max to him, asked what there was on the marsh that they were likely to find useful.

"There is nothing there, Monsieur, but mud and reeds."

"Reeds! Of course. They are cutting reeds to bind together lengths of timber for a bridge. I heard the sound of chopping from the copse this morning. Well, Max, I think we are prepared for them."

Soon after three o'clock a body of about two hundred men was seen approaching on foot in open order. When within musket-shot they took what cover the irregularities of the ground and the scattered shrubs afforded, and opened fire on every embrasure. Among them Harry had no difficulty in recognizing the burly figure of Aglionby. Word was passed round among the defenders to make no reply. The enemy were at present too far off to do much damage, or for the fire of the garrison to be effective. A few minutes later Harry, who had posted himself on the keep, so that while invisible himself he could see everything, observed a small body of men emerge from the copse, bearing a number of narrow palisades, consisting, as he discovered on their nearer approach, of thin logs roughly bound together. When they had come within about two hundred yards of the castle, the main body of the enemy directed a more continuous fire upon the battlements and loopholes, many advancing close up to the edge of the fosse. Still there was no reply from the defenders. The bridge-bearers came up at a slow run.

Harry had disposed of his little force as follows. Three men were stationed on the top of the keep, four at loopholes on the stairways half-way up each side, five behind the barricade of stones in the gateway, and one to carry orders from his own position on the keep to the men below. As soon as he saw the bridge-bearers approaching he instructed his dragoons to fire when he gave the word, but only at the men carrying the palisades. The extemporized bridge was in four sections, each about two feet across, and carried by six men.

The twenty-four came on, halted at the brink of the gully, and prepared to raise their palisades. Then Harry gave the word. The troopers below had been instructed to fire at the left-hand sections, those above at the right-hand sections. At the word they sprang up, thrust their muzzles through the embrasures and loopholes, and, undeterred by the patter of the enemy's bullets around them, took deliberate aim. The effect was all that Harry had hoped. The range was short; the men were old campaigners of iron nerve, and almost every shot told. Two or three men in each section of the bridge-bearers fell; the rest, dismayed by the fate of their comrades, loosened their hold on the palisades, which dropped back on to the farther side of the fosse. There was a rush among the bolder spirits to supply their places, and Aglionby himself, his red face purple with fury and excitement, threw himself at the head of his men, who strove with desperate haste to raise the palisades once more. But there was no cessation of the fire from the walls. Harry had taken the precaution of collecting from the stock of arms four muskets for each man, so that they needed to waste no time in reloading. No sooner had the palisades begun to rise again than a second fusillade burst forth from the castle; again the unwieldy poles fell clattering to the ground; again the men who had survived rushed back out of range. Aglionby and one or two others at first refused to budge, and took shelter behind the timber; but when they found themselves deserted they at length scoured away after the rest, and the whole force drew off.

"Fire no more," cried Harry. "Let them look to their wounded."

Finding that the firing from the castle had ceased, a party of the enemy ventured to the edge of the fosse and removed the hapless men there, some stark dead, others wounded more or less severely. Half a dozen men remained on watch at points surrounding the castle; the rest withdrew to the copse; and the members of the garrison, not one of whom was hurt, rejoiced in the repulse of this first assault, and went in relays to eat the meal which Otto the landlord had prepared for them.

No further movement of the enemy was observable. Max suggested that they had encamped in a large open glade within the wood. As night drew on, a slight glow above the tree-tops and thin columns of smoke proclaimed that camp fires had been lighted. Evidently, then, the enemy had not relinquished their hope of recapturing the castle. They were, of course, aware that its present garrison could not escape, for the plank bridge could not be collected and replaced unobserved; without it the inmates could only leave on foot, and they would thus easily be overtaken by the horsemen.

Harry sat down with Fanshawe and Buckley to eat his supper and discuss the situation. He was most apprehensive of a night-attack.

"They would have far better chances than by day," he said, "for their numbers would tell against us, and we should have to divide our force so as to guard points that might be threatened at any moment."

"But the battlements are inaccessible," said Fanshawe.

"The tower by which I escaped, you remember, is not. 'Tis difficult of approach, indeed, but not impossible to resolute men. I should have to leave at least one man to guard the postern. Of course, I shall block up the underground entrance by the tunnel; a few stones piled on the trap will prevent it from being lifted from below. But in the darkness 'twill not be so easy to hinder the enemy from throwing a bridge across the fosse: that is most to be feared."

"Defend it with a mine," suggested Buckley.

"A good thought!"

"And easy to do. The soil at the edge of the fosse will be soft: dig a hole and bury half a bag of powder in it. Pack it tightly with earth and stones; you can lead a train of powder through the barricade into the courtyard."

"Take care it is out of the reach of stray sparks from the men's matches," said Fanshawe, "or there'll be an explosion too soon and all spoilt."

"You're good counsellors, both of you. We'll make something of this defence among us."

Harry waited until dusk before carrying out Buckley's suggestion, in order that his movements might not be seen by the enemy. Having removed several stones from the barricade, he set two men to dig a hole near the gateway, filled it with a large charge of powder, and rammed down the earth upon it, taking care that several large stones were placed near the surface. Then the barricade was restored, and the garrison rearranged, only two men being now left in the keep, the rest being ordered to take up their position in the courtyard.

These arrangements had only just been completed, and those of the dragoons who were not on watch had just turned in, when a body of men was heard approaching. The garrison was instantly called to arms, and Harry went up to a coign of safety in the battlements to await events. It was almost pitch-dark: he dimly saw black masses moving about on the farther side of the fosse; but he had resolved not to waste powder and shot by opening fire with uncertain aim, and the enemy, finding their progress unmolested, came, as his ears told him, right up to the fosse. He wished he had some means of throwing a light on the scene, but knew of nothing in the castle sufficiently inflammable for the purpose.

After a time the noise outside, strikingly in contrast with the absolute silence in the castle itself, increased; the sound was like that of men slowly moving forward with heavy loads. Harry heard the clank of stone against stone, low whispers from across the fosse, less guarded commands from a short distance farther back, where work of some kind was evidently in progress. As Harry listened, his uncertainty as to what was going on at length became intolerable, and racking his brains to devise some means of making a light he at last hit upon an idea. The cushions of the coach were probably stuffed with hay; that would burn, and if smeared with grease might give a blaze strong enough to illumine the scene for a few moments. He immediately had the cushions ripped up, and found that their stuffing was as he had guessed. There was a good stock of candles in the store-room; some of these were melted down and the grease poured into the long bundle of hay made from the cushions. The mass was carried to the top of the keep, weighted with a stone, kindled, and thrown down. It fell steadily, the flame increasing as it gained impetus, casting a yellow glare upon the walls of the castle and its surroundings. Its appearance caused a sensation among the enemy: as it reached the ground several men rushed forward and stamped it out; but it had already fulfilled its purpose, and Harry had seen all that he wished to see.

At the brink of the fosse the enemy had constructed a low parapet: a large supply of stones was stacked about thirty yards to the rear, and men were still adding to the store from the scattered debris in the fosse and at the base of the ruined walls. The intention was clear: protected by the parapet, the enemy hoped to throw their bridge across the fosse in safety. With this knowledge Harry's fear of a night-attack was removed, for if the enemy intended to assault in the darkness the parapet would be unnecessary. They had apparently not cared to risk such an enterprise. The bridge would be none too wide even in daylight for the passage of a body of men rushing pell-mell over it. The attack, then, was probably to be deferred until dawn. Having completed their task the enemy by and by drew off, and in anticipation of desperate work on the morrow Harry went to snatch a brief sleep, leaving Max as responsible head of the watch.

In the cool glimmering dawn of that June morning Harry was awakened by Max with the news that the brigands were moving from the copse. He hastened at once to his post, and saw that the parapet extended for some twenty yards along the farther side of the fosse, with a gap in the centre protected by a traverse. The enemy came forward rapidly, took up the palisades they had vainly endeavoured to throw across the fosse on the previous day, and under cover of the parapet began to rear them. As Harry had feared, musketry fire from the castle was almost wholly ineffectual: only the men on the top of the keep got an occasional chance as the besiegers incautiously moved away from their breastwork, thus exposing the upper part of their bodies. The long palisades were slowly reared on end, and lowered as slowly across the fosse, till the end nearer to Harry rested on the base of the barricade beneath the archway. When the last section was in its place, the fosse was spanned by a bridge wide enough to allow four men to cross it abreast.

Harry felt a tightening at the heart as he realized the magnitude of the task he had set himself. His force, reduced by his losses to eighteen, including himself and the two English officers, who were scarcely effectives, was outnumbered by nearly eighteen to one. And the enemy were no feather-bed warriors. Looking at their motley array, he recognized that he had to contend with some of the fiercest, most desperate, least scrupulous men of war that Europe could produce. Their nationalities were as varied as their costumes. His inexperienced eye could not distinguish their types: but he saw small men and big men, men fair, men dark, old and young; some were born dandies, as their attempts at decoration in adverse circumstances showed; others born tatterdemalions, who even in affluence would have held the decencies of costume in derision. About a hundred seemed to be regular soldiers of the Elector of Bavaria's army. Only one bond held them together: a common love of lawlessness and rapine. He felt a new respect for Aglionby; only a man of some moral force, however perverted, could have imposed his leadership on such a heterogeneous crew.

At the moment Aglionby was in consultation with a few others at some distance, and out of range of the clumsy firearms of those days. Among the little group Harry singled out two men as of more consequence than the rest: a tall fellow matching the captain in height and bulk, wearing a red sash--the same man he had seen approaching the inn,--and a small active man in whose cap a peacock's feather was jauntily stuck. They were evidently discussing with great animation their plan of attack.

As nearly as Harry could judge, about a hundred men were crouching behind the parapet. A body nearly two hundred strong was held in reserve near the leaders. Against these Harry had five men in the gateway, three at the summit of the keep, three half-way up, and Max as lieutenant and aide-de-camp.

Suddenly the group of leaders parted, a bugle rang out, and simultaneously with a fierce discharge of musketry from the parapet two men dashed forward from each end of the gap on to the bridge. At a second's interval these were followed by another four, while several men rushed from the reserve towards the far end of the parapet to fill their places. Three fell under the first volley from the defenders, but the rest sprang forward unhurt, and gaining the other side began to clamber up the barricade, to tear down the stones, or, thrusting their muskets through the loopholes, to discharge them hap-hazard at the garrison within. But three of the defenders of the gate had held their fire, and, boldly mounting a low platform of stones just inside the barricade, they discharged their pieces point-blank into the mass of men now crowding with shouts across the bridge. The brigands, Harry noticed, were headed by the big red-sashed Croatian he had seen in consultation with Aglionby. They recoiled but for a second, then surged forward again, and, yelling with fury, hurled themselves against the breastwork. Eugene's troopers, led by Max, held their ground in silence, save for a muttered exclamation when one of their adversaries fell reeling into the fosse.

It was not long before the weight of numbers began to tell; portions of the barricade had been pulled down; the gallant defenders were hard beset. Calling to the two men in the keep, Harry rushed down and flung himself into the fray, shouting to Max to go to the top of the keep and carry out orders he had previously received. Max hurried away, and Harry lost count of time as he engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand fight across the fast crumbling barricade. Standing upon their platform the defenders still had the advantage of position, and Harry and his two men being fresh, the enemy for some few minutes gained but little. Then, as the attackers were once more beginning to make headway, there was a terrible crash on the bridge. The fighting ceased as by magic; all was still. A huge mass of stone, swung outwards from the top of the keep, had broken with terrific force through the light palisades, leaving only one section intact, and carrying with it into the fosse nearly a dozen men. The survivors on the castle side, seeing themselves almost cut off, were seized with panic and made a simultaneous rush for safety, the big Croatian pushing his weaker and wounded comrades into the fosse in his reckless haste to regain the opposite bank.

Harry gave a gasp of thankfulness and relief,--and turned to see Fanshawe and Buckley, who, weak as they were, had come up unknown to him towards the close of the fight to bear a hand.

"Thank you, old fellow!" he said to Fanshawe, "we have scored one."

But he turned again, and, leaning on the barricade, anxiously scanned the field. The leaders of the enemy were once more in earnest consultation. They must have lost at least twenty men in the short sharp struggle; but the defeat seemed only to have enraged them. During the first part of the fight Max had been full in their view, and as he still wore the prince's costume the brigands were no doubt convinced that Eugene himself was the head and front of the defence, and were buoyed up by the hope of capturing him. For some minutes the discussion among the leaders continued; then, as having come to a decision, they moved off with their men towards the copse, and, save for half a dozen who remained to watch the castle, were seen no more for some hours.

Their absence gave Harry an opportunity of attending to his wounded. He found that three were somewhat seriously hurt, and one was rendered hors de combat. His total force was now reduced to fourteen, including himself, his brother officers, and the two men on guard.

Towards mid-day, under a broiling sun, the enemy again appeared. This time, in addition to palisades freshly made, they carried with them a number of rough frameworks penthouse shaped, fashioned from stout saplings bound together, like the bridge, with withies from the marsh. Evidently there was a man of resource among them. Each of the frames formed a kind of wooden tent, two yards long, some three to four wide, and six feet high, requiring the united strength of half a dozen men to carry. But there was no lack of men, and the bearers, protected from bullets from above by the roof of these shelters, came safely almost to the edge of the fosse. The new palisades were thrown across, but this time the materials were stronger. One of the sheds, its end closed with light logs, was rushed across the bridge by a dozen strong men. A second was joined to it, then a third, and so on until a continuous corridor stretched across the fosse. The lashings holding the logs together at the inner end being cut, from out of this testudo sprang brigand after brigand, who came impetuously up to the barricade and instantly engaged the defenders in a furious hand-to-hand combat. Max, whose marksmanship with his huge sling had been so effective before, hurled stone after stone down upon the testudo, but they were turned off by the sloping roof, and though the bridge creaked and groaned under the impact it did not give way.

It was fortunate for the defenders that only a few men at a time could make their way through the shed, and the space at the end was too narrow to allow of a great accession of numbers unless the foremost could scale the barricade. The enemy had again lost heavily at their first onset, but as soon as one man fell his place was supplied, and no respite was given to the little band within. Shoulder to shoulder Eugene's men formed a wall of steel across the gateway: again and again they beat back the enemy at the breastwork. But against such odds they could not hope to escape unscathed; there were no reserves; and of the enemy there was still a host ready and eager to fill the gaps. One man and then another of the troopers fell, this one to rise no more, that to crawl away and stanch his wound. Seven men were now all that was left of the fighting line, and when Fanshawe and Buckley came up and insisted on sharing their comrades' peril, Harry felt that he dared no longer delay the playing of what might prove his last card. With a word to Max to keep up the fight, he slipped for a moment out of the press, struck a flint, kindled some tinder he had kept in readiness, and then, shouting to his men to make for the keep, and waiting till they had begun to run, he lit the train.

At the last moment a trooper fell, so badly hurt that he could not move. Harry sprang forward, caught the man by the belt, and dragged him into the courtyard towards the keep. The enemy, astonished at the sudden flight of the garrison, hesitated for a moment before charging across the obstacle which so far had held them off. Then, just as they leapt forward over the barricade, now an irregular heap of stones, there was a blinding flash behind them, and a deafening roar. The ground rocked; fragments of the dilapidated walls fell inwards and outwards; a dense cloud of dust and smoke bellied over the scene, and the air was rent by the cries of men in agony.

Disregarding the falling stone-work, Harry ran forward to the archway, his eyes smarting with the fumes. As the cloud gradually settled, he saw crowds of the enemy huddled together on the farther side of the fosse, their eyes aghast intently fixed on the archway. But of the bridge, and the sheds, and the stream of men who a minute before had been pressing forward exultantly across the fosse, not a vestige remained. Wood and men lay an indistinguishable mass at the bottom.

*CHAPTER XXII*

*The Fight in the Keep*

Soldiers All--The Silent Watches--Twice a Traitor--The Oubliette--The Horizon--Fanshawe Volunteers--A Powder Barrel--Nearing the End--Allies--Von Stickstoff--More Stickstoff--The Confederate Camp--The Anspach Dragoons--At the Sword Point--A Brief Respite--The Fight on the Stairs--The Last Stand--The Anspachers

Harry was sick at heart when he came to examine his losses. Three of his men were dead, nine badly wounded, there was not one but bore marks, in bruise or cut or strain, of the desperate strife in which they had played such manful parts. He arranged for the burial of the three gallant troopers; then, heavy-hearted as he was, set to work with indomitable pluck to repair the damage done to the defences. The prisoners were pressed into the service; the barricade was restored, and another mine was dug, though from the crack that showed in the masonry of the archway Harry feared that a second explosion would bring half the keep tumbling about his ears.

Having done all that could be done, and shared a meal with his devoted men, Harry went with Fanshawe and Buckley to the top of the keep to discuss the future.

"Our state is parlous, Fanshawe," he said. "Another assault will wipe us out."

"We have a breathing-space. The brigands have had enough for the present. Their ill-success must have daunted them."

"But Aglionby will not give up yet. He is playing for a high stake.--What is doing yonder?"

In the distance he saw two wagons and a band of some fifty men making their way across the hills towards the copse in which the enemy were encamped.

"Reinforcements, it appears," said Buckley. "Perhaps food; they will raid every farmhouse round."

"We must say nothing of this to the men," said Harry. "'Twould dishearten them."

"It seems you have no choice but surrender," remarked Buckley.

"Never--unless you and Fanshawe as my superior officers take the responsibility."

"Not I," said Fanshawe. "'Tis absurd to think of! The men are devoted to you; and Prince Eugene put you in command; you have done wonders, and whatever be the end, we'd be fools to interfere--eh, Buckley?"

"Certainly."

"Then I won't surrender. Say we make terms, think you the enemy would hold to them, finding the prince not here? They would wreak vengeance on us for their disappointment and their losses. They are in the main freebooters, the scum of the French and Bavarian armies, as near savages as men can be. We could expect no mercy at their hands. Besides, Aglionby will by and by discover, if he have not already done so, that I am here; and he has too many scores to pay off to deal very tenderly with me or my men. We can but hold out to the last, and hope that help may come in time."

"The prince must by this be in our camp," said Fanshawe. "What if we tell the enemy they are on the wrong scent?"

"'Twould avail us nothing. Aglionby would not believe the story, or, if he believed it, would scout it publicly so as to keep his men together. He would be the more deeply embittered against us."

"You are in the right," said Fanshawe. "Pray God help comes to us, then."

"We can still hold the keep," said Harry. "One man on the winding stair can hold many at bay; we must fight against time."

That night Harry could not sleep for the harassing problem of the continued defence of the castle. True, his object had been gained; Prince Eugene had got off in safety; he himself had fought a good fight; but it was clear that unless help came soon his defence must be broken through by sheer force of numbers. He was resolved to die rather than fall a captive into Aglionby's hands; but the longing for life was strong within him. He thought of all that had passed during the two years since his meeting with Lord Godolphin: the strange vicissitudes, the ups and downs of fortune; the inexplicable enmity of Mr. Berkeley; his pleasant relations with Mynheer Grootz and the ladies of Lindendaal; the chances which had served him so well and brought him so near the realization of his dearest longings. It was hard to think that at this moment, when the confederate army under the greatest generals of the age was moving towards events of high moment, he should be cut off in this obscure spot and robbed of the opportunity to which he had looked forward so eagerly.

He did not think only of himself. He remembered his companions--Fanshawe, Buckley, the faithful Max, the brave troopers whose fate was linked with his. Their lot was worse than his, for they had ties--parents, children, relatives, to whom they were dear: he himself was alone in the world. Apart from Mynheer Grootz, who he knew loved him; Madame de Vaudrey, whose feeling for him was warm; Sherebiah, whose affection was perhaps the closest of all; there was no one to be interested in his welfare. Thinking of Madame de Vaudrey he thought of her daughter, and was dimly conscious that he would have liked to stand well in her eyes--to break through that cold reserve of manner she had always shown to him, and win from her one look or word of approval. Fanshawe, he knew, still nourished a hope of winning her; it seemed to depend on him whether Fanshawe should have another chance.

He lay awake, thus musing, and gazing at a star that shone through the loophole in the wall. By and by he felt a strange uneasiness, unconnected with his previous train of thought. All was quiet; not even the hoot of an owl broke the stillness. Unable to account for his feeling, he rose and went to the top of the keep.

"Is all well?" he asked the sentry there.

"All is well, Monsieur."

"You have seen or heard nothing?"

"Nothing, Monsieur, but the scurry of rabbits in the fosse."

"Good-night!"

He returned to his bed and lay down again. But still he felt uneasy; again he was impelled to rise. This time he went down into the courtyard. Max was on duty there. The horses were ranged round the walls; the coach stood in the corner to which it had been hauled; everything was as it had been. He went into the large hall: the prisoners were all asleep, the sentry on guard. Something led him to continue his round; he was determined to allay his restlessness by examining every nook and cranny of the castle. Taking a lighted candle, he made his way into the lower part of the keep. He arrived at length at the chamber to which there was access from the tunnel. He started, and stopped short in amazement and consternation. The stones which had been heaped on the trap-door had been removed. With a muttered imprecation on the man who he supposed had carried the stones up the keep for use with the sling, he was turning to order someone to replace them when he noticed that several stones were piled in a corner near at hand. He stood still, puzzled at this strange meddling with his work.

At this moment he heard a slight sound beneath him, and saw a tremor in the stone trap-door. Could he believe his eyes? One end of the stone was rising. Quick as thought he blew out his candle, and backing behind a pillar drew a pistol from his belt. His fascinated eyes were fixed on the slowly moving stone. There was now a ray of light at its edge; he heard whispering voices. Steadily the heavy slab was pushed into a vertical position; then appeared the head, the shoulders, the body of a man. By the light of the sputtering candle he carried Harry recognized Otto the landlord. Now he saw the meaning of all that had puzzled him. The man, alarmed for his safety if, as must seem inevitable, the brigands captured the castle and found him there, apparently an accomplice in the trick played upon them, had sought to purchase his peace by leading them through the secret passage. Harry felt a keen pang of self-reproach that he should not have foreseen this development and taken steps to prevent it.

But he was instinctively bracing his muscles for the impending struggle. The landlord was now through the opening; he stepped on to the floor of the room and bent down to assist the next man. Slipping the pistol back into his belt, Harry made two bounds and was beside the stooping figure. The man heard his footfall and instantly straightened himself; but even as he raised the hand holding the candle to ward off the imminent blow, Harry struck him full upon the chin, and with a stifled gasp he fell headlong to the stone floor. Then Harry, throwing all his weight against the slab, hurled it with a crash into its place. The landlord's candle was guttering, still feebly alight, on the floor. By its glimmer Harry hauled from the corner one after another of the stones that had been removed, and piled them with desperate haste upon the trap until the way was again effectually blocked.

Then, picking up the candle, he examined the prostrate body. The man was stunned. Harry, for all his anger, could not help pitying the poor craven wretch. But only one course was open to him. The crashing sound had already brought Max and two other men to the spot.

"Lower him into the dungeon," cried Harry.

And the dark hole in which Fanshawe and Buckley had spent nights and days now received the senseless body of the traitorous landlord.

Sleep was banished for the rest of the night. The alarm had gone through the garrison, and every man was on the alert. It was clearly imperative to provide against a possible attack by way of the underground passage. Such an attack was, in truth, not very likely. Only one man could pass the slab at one time from below, and save by mining operations the enemy could scarcely force a way through the ton of stones which Harry now caused to be heaped above it. But it was necessary to set a watch at this point, and as he could not spare another man from his already too much diminished force he decided to withdraw the man from the tower by which he had escaped from the castle, and to release the prisoners.

Before he did this, however, he resolved to employ them once more in strengthening his defences. It was pretty evident that the result of another assault would be to drive him into the keep. The entrance to this from the courtyard was without a door; it was necessary to block it up, leaving only a narrow gap that could be easily closed. He employed the prisoners to pile the largest stones that could be found flush with the doorway, in such a manner that the enemy, approaching from the outside, should be unable to get a hold upon them or push them away. A narrow opening was left, and heavy stones were placed on the inside, near at hand, to block it up when the time should come. At the same time a large supply of missiles was conveyed to the top of the keep.

It was clear from the movements of the enemy during the day that they were far from abandoning the siege. No doubt they had been encouraged by the arrival of reinforcements. Sections for a new bridge were brought in the afternoon and placed close to the fosse, together with the sections of a second testudo. These were certain indications of another attempt on the gateway.

Many times during the day Harry went up the keep and looked anxiously northward for the expected succour, always to be disappointed. He could not believe that Prince Eugene had left him to his fate; something must have happened to detain the relieving force, and Harry thought with anguish of heart that it might arrive too late. Then an idea struck him. Why not send out a messenger to hasten the troops if they were indeed on the road? There was one serious objection: the garrison could not safely spare a man. He mentioned his idea to Fanshawe.

"Let me go," said his friend instantly. "I am of little use as a fighting man; my strength is not equal to a fight so desperate as the last. But if I can get away, I might find a horse in a neighbouring hamlet, and I could at least keep my seat in the saddle. And an officer would prove a better messenger than a trooper."

Harry accepted the offer. Fanshawe might fall into the hands of the enemy, but he was willing to face the risk, and under cover of night there was a reasonable hope that he might elude them. About ten o'clock he clambered along the battlements towards the rearmost tower, and there, assisted by a rope, he made his exit by the postern, slid down the slope more riskily ventured by Harry on his first visit to the castle, and, taking a wide sweep, disappeared into the darkness.

When Harry returned to the keep, he was informed by the sentry that he had heard dull movements beneath the trap-door. The sounds had now ceased. Harry's conclusion was that the enemy had been searching for a weak spot in the passage, and having failed had finally given up any notion of effecting an entrance there. He arranged with Buckley to take the watch from midnight till dawn.

With the first glimmers of daylight Harry carried out his resolve to release the prisoners. The odds were so heavy against him that one man inside was now worth thirty out, and with no prisoners to guard he could add one to his effective force. Rapidly marshalling them, he led them to the ruined tower, and let them down by a rope as Fanshawe had been let down in the night. The movement was seen by one of the enemy's scouts, and before the prisoners had all reached the ground a crowd of their comrades had gathered at the foot of the slope to meet them. Their appearance seemed to create great astonishment; they were surrounded and eagerly plied with questions. One result of their release was that a new point of attack was disclosed to the enemy, who had apparently not dreamt hitherto of making an attempt by the postern. Harry saw a small body detach themselves from the main force and approach the slope; but knowing the difficulty of an assault uphill upon such a narrow opening he doubted whether they would push an attack home; still, it would have the effect of engaging one at least of his men.

It was very early in the morning; the enemy had everything ready; but they appeared to be waiting for something. Once more Harry scanned the horizon vainly for sign of helmet or lance. Suddenly there was a deep rumbling roar from the interior of the keep; an exultant shout rose from the enemy's ranks, and rushing forward at full speed they began to throw their new bridge across the fosse. Shouting to his men to hold the gateway to the death, Harry hastened down to the entrance of the keep, where he was met by stifling fumes of gunpowder. Then he rushed up the winding stair to the first floor, and saw Buckley staggering towards him.

"I had just been relieved," panted Buckley. "The explosion occurred the moment after I left the spot. It stunned me for a few seconds. The poor fellow who took my place must have been blown to atoms."