The Fall Of The Grand Sarrasin written by William J. Ferrar

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But what did the convent at its prayers, as the Moorish host drew near?
This was made clear ere long. For we were to see, we lads, what ne'er
had met our eyes before, the very earth open to save us, and this by no
miracle save man's skill given by God to devise wise and cunning shifts
for those in peril.

Lo! the abbot stood, _in medio chori_, noble and calm, and the sad
strains of Miserere rolled down the aisle. He stood by a stool of oak
that rested there for prayer withal, and ever so lightly touched a
little point of brass, that lay but a speck in the midst of the stone
floor. And as he pressed with his kid shoe a moment, the stone sank
slowly some two fathoms, leaving disclosed a stairway, and a passage
arched overhead with bricks, with a cool and pleasant air therein, that,
rushing up, refreshed our souls.

Then we passed downwards, old and young, and so along the brick passage,
that ran straight eastward, as I guessed to the Vale Castle. And the
abbot stayed till we had all passed through. Then, as he pressed upon
the stone, it slowly rose again to its right level, and looking round I
saw him in like manner cause sundry other stones to drop behind him as
he came. Then letting loose a trap--lo! a very shower of granite blocks
came falling down closing the path behind us with great heaps high as a
man's shoulders.

So, heartening one another with cheery words as we went, we passed
through a little chamber that led straight through the Keep--and so we
were met by Hugo and Bernard, and dispersed each to his right place, as
was meet in such a perilous time.

Now, by favour of Brother Hugo, I stood near and succoured him, and
though in my stormy life I have had fighting and besieging in Normandy,
Brittany, Touraine, and here in England, never have I seen such prowess
and such strength as I saw in Brother Hugo.

Thus, by his favour, I was ere long on the south bastion that overlooked
the gate of the Castle. There was but one gate by Cherbourg's design,
and that a small one for so great a place, and yet, what need of
greater? The larger hole surely that a rat's home hath the easier to
find the rat, and rabbiting were easier were the burrow a yard in
circuit. So Cherbourg built Vale gate not for state but for use, to pass
men through, not foes but friends, and it was clamped with well-hammered
iron, and secured by ponderous bars and bolts.

From the rampart we looked southward, and saw away by the cloister gates
the black swarm of the Sarrasin. We saw them nearer by-and-by. But now
they stood before the gate, and seemed as they would hold parley with
those that they thought to be within. But they heard naught, and saw
naught through trap or grating. Then must they have thought the brethren
were in hiding, or maybe stayed in the church to meet death at prayer,
as good monks have chosen to do ere this, preferring so with calm hope
to pass to God than in a useless struggle, for which He framed them not.
For a young tree was rooted up, and with its full weight, rammed by a
troop of knaves against the gate. And though it stood the charge not
once, nor twice, nor thrice indeed, at length with the rush and weight
of many men behind it, it charged with such a force that the great gate
fell with a sound that we could hear in the still morning, and in a
moment the barbarous swarms were over it, and ready to work their will
in cloister and house of prayer.

It was a sore moment, and one to make the strongest set their teeth hard
together, when we saw through the trees a little curl of smoke wreathe
itself up in the calm air, and then smoke more dense, and still more
dense to follow, and then the bright red tongues of flame leaping and
dancing as though in ungrateful glee o'er the ruin of the home of men
who did no harm, but only good.

"They will soon be here, lad," said Hugo, beside me on the wall. "Let us
say, 'Sursum corda.'"

"Ay, 'ad Dominum,'" I answered bravely.

Now, these were our sign and countersign for our holy war that day. And
just then word came from the north-east bastion that the Moors were
already in their boats, and rowing to the Castle, with ladder and rope
on board, a round hundred or so of the knaves, hoping to catch us asleep
in the rear, while we met the foe in front, and order was given that at
once we be prepared to discharge plenty of stones, and to shoot our
ignited darts down on them from the height. There was no sign yet of the
foe in front, so we went to the seaward wall, whither the boats drew
near. Now, Hugo himself sent forth the first stones, but the boats were
yet too far, and the balls but struck the waves, and made them spurt up
fountains of foam.

Yet the rogues seemed surprised and scared at our being so ready with
defence, and they stayed a moment ere they came within range of our
armoury. Then at a signal of command they all rowed straight forward.
They hoped out of so many some would get through. See! A very hail of
stones and rocky fragments, and a very shower of fiery arrows, each one
a deadly comet as it falls! They descend on the swift-rowed boats. They
fall as they will without mercy on man or thwart. The devils shriek out
and drop their oars, and writhe horribly when they are hit. And some
with bold hands sweep them out of their craft.

In one boat some three fire-darts fell, and while the rogues struggled
among themselves to escape burning, a worse thing happened, for the dry
wood within sprang into flame, and no dowsing of the water could put the
fire out, till the waves rushed in and swamped her in a moment, and the
crew of some ten souls were struggling in the water. None of the rest
essayed to save them; they were already overburdened, and had their own
work to escape damage.

I know not whether they retired, or whether, landing hard by, they
swelled the main attack, which as I write had already begun. For Hugo
had left me to speed the manage of the balls, and when he called me
again I saw a new sight in front of the great southwestern bastion.

The Moors were gathered in force indeed, and an evil crew, evil
equipped, and in evil order they were. Each within a little his own
general as we first viewed them, each his own envoy to shoot forth to us
on the walls foul and blasphemous words, that shamed us to hear: "Come
forth, ye foul rats of the cloister; come and be spitted here on the
ground." "Spear or fire, greasy monks, which choose ye, or a spit to
roast your fat carcases by the flame." "Good Michael, send us, prithee,
thine envoy hither; see us deck him with fair traps for thine
entertainment"

In such wise they ranted and railed before us, but naught was said in
answer, nor, as they doubtless hoped, did they draw us to think of
leaving our fastness for the open. No word was spoken. No arrow was
shot. Nor was a ball thrown yet.

But the number of the villains! Stretching back across the common,
well-nigh to the cloister, and seeming even still to be pouring down
from the woods. Ah me! What a black hell of sin lay 'neath those faces,
like an ugly, stormy sea below us, and what a motley of lost souls of
every race. Dark Moors were there in plenty, with rich dress and shining
mail; black Africans with blubber lips and mats of furzy hair; sleek
Jews slithering in and out the groups, inciting to devil's work; figures
of nobles and gentlemen of France or Espagne, dishonoured and merged in
the depth of the lowest scum there present; great Saxon churls and
Danes, standing stern and resolute, but barbarous, as lions in the ranks
of jackals and wolves!

CHAPTER VII.

Of _Le Grand Sarrasin_, and of the renewed attack upon _Vale Castle_. Of
my first deeds of arms, and how the _Moors_ were beaten back.

What they waited for we guessed not, till a great black horse came
cantering over the plain, and a whisper went through the ramparts: "The
Grand Sarrasin himself!" And he it was. He had his visor down. For none,
so men said, had ever seen his face; and with excellent management of
the steed of Araby, whereon he sat, drew up straight in front of the
long rank of villains that he led. A great figure he sat on his horse,
but swift and ready in his movements, though stout and heavy, and
exceedingly knightly, as he rested with one hand on the beast's haunch.

The ranks were no more in disorder, and the sounds ceased. Side by side
they stood, erect and deadly. Each eye on him. Each head steady. It was
a disciplined host. It was a band of music that he ruled with the sweep
of his hand. We understood how the pirates of the Norman seas were all
at one. They had found their master, and knew naught but his will.

Soon we saw the army break into three, and come forth to assault us at
different points. Of the southeastern bastion, where I was stationed, I
can only tell. What happened otherwhere I only know by hearsay. There we
had some forty of our complement of men to relieve one another with the
stones, and shoot their arrows, and be prepared for service with the
broadsword should need come. And great prongs we had very swiftly to
dislodge the ladders, which with sore effort they strove to thrust into
the thick cement 'twixt stone and stone. And once or twice when the
ladder held, there was quick work pouring hot pitch on their heads. Hour
by hour they strove on, caring not for defeat, for when men fell wounded
and hurt, others more like devil-cats took their place; but we thought,
for our part, the attack was slacker, when sudden, from the northern
rampart, that was steeper than the rest, and therefore less defended,
rang deadly, heartrending shrieks and clamour for aid, and we knew that
at that post the Moors had gained a footing, and "Haste ye, left rank
with me," said Brother Hugo; "you, Bertram, and you, Alain, keep up the
defence here."

So by Brother Hugo's side I rushed to the northern rampart, and saw him,
with his bright blade sweeping like lightning through the air, deal
death amid that Sarrasin crowd, that in face of pitch and stones had
worked their way up the well-nigh upright wall.

There were with us at that moment some twenty on the rampart, and this
was well-nigh enough, had there been no surprise in the attack. For the
Sarrasins could but come up slowly, and one, discomfited at the summit,
would roll back and carry with him many that were clambering up below
him. But already some thirty were on the rampart, or in preparation to
spring. And our men had been affrighted and fled, had not Hugo, with his
"Rou! Rou!" loud upraised, relighted their failing courage. And, indeed,
who would not follow bravely such a one, in such peril fearless, and
himself tackling already a knot of five or six of the foe with his
invincible sword that was named "Roland"? The white blade swept down
sharp and swift, and in a moment two Sarrasins lay helpless, for they
were surprised by the swift onset. Up the blade rose again, and met
ready parry and defence from a tall, sinewy fellow, that bore in his
address the signs of nobility. And then began a sharp tussle 'twixt the
twain, sword against sword with ready guard of shield, that I saw not,
for a passion that I knew not possessed me--the fever of war, a sad
thing, but a glad thing yet when it doth sweep into a youth's heart in
his first assay of arms. This new thing in me, raging like a fire, bore
me to bar the way of two that rushed to clear the path that ran down
beside me to the open lawn within, and so to shun the onset of our men
who were driving back with good success already those that were in act
to spring over the wall. 'Gainst one I struck, and he, despising my
stroke, or but half seeing 'neath the stairway, parried but carelessly,
and my blade slipped through, and wounded his sword-arm at the wrist,
that it fell slack, and the blade dropped clattering on the
paving-stones. Then the other knave pinned me against the bastion, and I
for five good minutes stuck at sword-play with him, he waxing each
moment more wild and fierce, I striving to remember and show forth in
act all that I had learned of defence.

"Play not longer with the lad, Guilbert," quoth one behind, "or he will
breathe thee." And at this cry shame stung him, and he waxed more
dreadful fierce, and I within me seemed to hear a voice say "Keep cool,
and all is well!" So, wonderful to tell, the more he raged the more cool
was I, and little strange was it that he, sweeping the air with wild
thrust and parry, met ere long in his heart the clean stroke of my
sword, and I, quivering and half appalled as I drew it reeking forth,
was forced in a moment to be on guard again, for another rogue was at
me. Yet, with a wild gladness, I saw the villain roll moaning at my
feet, and the new rogue found himself involved at once in a battle with
two--myself and a stout farmer, who, seeing me in danger, had rushed in
to my defence. He, with sheer strength, beat down his sword, and sore
wounded him, catching himself a scar meanwhile, and so I had time to
glance and see how the battle went.

Still Hugo stood like a king of swordsmen, and around him lay those that
he or others mustering to his defence had slain--some five or six--and
now he was engaged with one that seemed the captain of that storming
party--as I believe, an Englishman, cold and resolute, and thereby the
more dangerous. And I dreaded, for I saw Hugo grow wilder in his stroke,
and moreover weaker and weary withal with his great prowess. And I
seemed almost to see with my eyes what I dreaded--that the Englishman
should tire him out, and then take him where he would; so, careless of
rule, I ran and struck forth at him on the left, and for a moment he
kept us both in play. And then Hugo, gathering himself now as for a
final stroke, struck him below the tunic, and he too fell among the
slain or wounded.

Then we looked round. "It was done warily and bravely, lad," he said.
"Maybe thine arm saved my life. But see! No longer they leap our wall,
and but few are left to slay."

"See, see!" I cried in exultation, "they rush back! We have them now in
the rear."

And so we had in faith, for the scant dozen that were yet unharmed were
easy prey as they fled, choosing to risk their bones as they dropped, or
clung with a bare chance of life, to be cut to pieces by us; for it was
clear that Le Grand Sarrasin had called off the attack at that quarter.
Two or three got off scot-free; but, thank Heaven, these gave such an
account of us as monk-devils and witch-men, that all hope was given up
of taking us by storm--by day at least.

It was now towards evening. No better success had been won by the
Sarrasin at any point in the attack. It but remained for him to sweep
his forces back again to the chateau. Our hearts leapt up to see them
turn their faces towards the forest-land. And before long, with a flag
of truce, they were collecting the wounded and the bodies of the dead.
Those of the storming party we handed down the wall, or, if living
still, led them through the gate.

Now we reckoned that the Moors that day, by sea, arrow, stone, and ball,
and in storming, had lost at least a hundred men, while our loss was
only nine men killed and twenty-six in hospital. So nobly and well we
faced that day of my first fighting.

"Now, look you," said Hugo, "we shall have no more storming, unless they
find greater forces."

"What then?" said I.

"Next will they come like Brother Mole," he said, "with his long tunnel
under earth. And then, if that fail--as God grant it may--they will
trust to a surer _aide-de-camp_ that I fear the most. His step is heard
already--"

"And who is he--this friend who will aid them best?"

"Hush! Whisper it not, Nigel, abroad to dishearten any; but we have but
three weeks' provisions here for so many mouths, or a month's at the
most, if we be wary in giving rations."

"Then their friend is----"

"Famine!" said Hugo, grimly.

CHAPTER VIII.

How I was sent forth by my lord abbot to seek the protection of _Duke
William_, and of what befell me by the way of the pirates.

That night there was restless sleeping in Vale Castle and but rough
quarters, but no assault nor alarm.

Next morning there was singing of "Non nobis" and "Te Deum" to boot by
the brethren assembled in martial conclave on the open lawn. Their
church was destroyed and its beauty perished; but said Abbot Michael--

"Lo, brethren, here be your choir these days, here your House of God.
See, its pillars are the Lord's, and they fear no sacrilegious hand;
see, its arch is the heaven, and its roof the sunlit sky, and for music
to our chant hear the lapping of the waves that God hath set in their
bed below." So, with comforting words, did he restore our courage, as we
thought sadly of the ruined cloister, whose smoke yet went up pitifully
to the sky.

And shortly after these solemn offices I was taken by Hugo to the
abbot's presence, in the little chamber he had on the seaward wall.
Very strange and careworn he was.

"Son," he said, greeting me with a sweet dignity, "thou hast done well
already in the profession thou hast chosen, as I hear by good report of
all, and indeed so comes out in thee the prowess of a noble race. Thou
seest what straits the brethren are in by this blockade and siege?" He
pointed seaward and landward. "And that, should help come not, a
deadlier enemy than the Sarrasin himself will strive with us--the famine
with the sword. Thou knowest all this?"

Now, as he spake, I guessed why he spake thus, and so right boldly I
replied, with a straight look in his eyes--

"Ay, my lord, right well I know. Send me, therefore, now, whither thou
thinkest well, for succour in this day of extremity!"

His eye brightened at my words, and he and Hugo looked gladly at one
another, and Hugo said, with low voice, proudly--

"Our Father, the abbot, hath chosen thee, my esquire, and a proud
mission it is, being assured of thy strength and truth of heart, to be
his messenger to our sovereign lord the duke, and to inform him of the
dangers of his faithful bedesmen here, and of the arrogance of their
foes and his own. To-night thou wilt start on a noble and knightly
enterprise."

"It is, my son," said the abbot, "a path full of danger. But also, as
our brother saith, an enterprise both noble and knightly, for the saving
of these men of God, and the feeble ones that are sheltered in our fold,
not alone from death, but from rude insult and sharp pain."

I told my lord that I was indeed willing to accept it, though I loved
life full dearly. And he, assuring me that all matters of my setting
forth that night were in Brother Hugo's hands, bent over me, and
pressing his hands, that trembled the while, on my young head, committed
me to God's care. And I went forth calm and steady with his holy words
yet in my ears and a great glory of gladness in my heart, that I, still
a lad, was thus chosen for a knight's work.

I was to set out, Hugo told me, at nightfall from a little cove named
Bordeaux Bay that lay hard by the Castle. Old Simon Renouf, a wary pilot
amid the dangerous rocks and shallows of our seas, was, with one other,
to be my comrade, and I was to be clad in the rough dress of the fisher
folk in case of capture. We were that night to make for the Isle of
Jersey, and craftily to lie hid in a quiet opening in the rocks for the
day, and then next day, if the wind were good, to sail to the port of
Granville in Normandy.

Now, it was arranged I was to bear no written message to my lord the
duke, only a ring of gold hung in a little bag about my neck, that our
abbot said would stand me in better stead with William, recalling past
services and duties, and would be thought, were I taken by the pirates,
but some harmless relic or valued heirloom. Now, the ring had on it but
the letter "A," and the motto inscribed around "_Loyal devoir_."

And so at nightfall we went forth from the back side of the Castle, down
the steep and rugged path that led at length to the shore of Bordeaux
Bay, Brother Hugo, as we went, giving me words of good counsel as to my
behaviour before Duke William, impressing on him the insult of these
knaves to his high fame as duke, and how I should keep a still tongue if
I fell into the hands of the Grand Sarrasin.

We found Simon Renouf and Jacques de la Mare waiting for us in their
small fishing-smack which I knew so well, having so often sailed with
them as boy and lad, and well they loved me, as did all the fishers of
Grande Havre and St. Sampson. But now, as Jacques took the tiller, old
Simon bade me handle the sail, as though I were indeed that which I
appeared, a raw hand learning seaman's craft. Right manfully I took up
my task, and in a moment the dark sail ran up the mast, Simon undid the
fastening and pushed off, and with Jacques cunningly guiding us from the
rocks, the boat stole noiselessly from the bay, coasting northward for a
space to get away from the Moorish ships that still lay outside, and
then, aided by a dim white mist that lay upon the face of the waters and
a chill night-breeze, we bore away to the south of Herm and Jethou,
whose craggy sides loomed black and terrible as we sailed by.

Presently the wind fell, and we lay well-nigh becalmed, and the moon
came out, and we could see now the high walls of Sark and the steep side
of Brecquou, and slowly we approached thither. So we ran straight to
Jersey. The moon set presently, and we made little way, and with the
light of breaking dawn we entered a small creek, wherein the water lay
calm and still. When the boat was in safety we clambered upon the rocks,
and among them Simon showed a little cave overhung with green streaming
plants that indeed was a pleasant place, with all manner of coloured
sea-plants clinging to the wall, that the light as it entered played
upon. Here we ate of the good store that lay in the boat's locker, and a
rare draught of wine washed down the food and refreshed our spirits, and
then Simon bade me lie down and rest, and as the sun began to climb up
and make all the sea glisten along its crest, I lay down and slept, and
awaked not till he had climbed far up into the sky. But when I awoke old
Simon Renouf still sat by the cave-mouth, gazing out to sea from under
his looming brows, and I thought he sat there like some great eagle by
its eyrie keeping watch over its young. And such indeed he was, an eagle
soaring high in fidelity, and my guardian to the death, as in the end it
appeared.

Now, as evening drew near, Simon showed us that with an early start
that night, with good weather as the wind lay, we would make the Norman
coast ere morning, and creep along as we might to Port Granville by
daylight.

But alas! that night we had but just shot out of our hermitage amid the
rocks, and were giving great heed to the perilous passage withal, when,
as we rounded a sudden shelve of rock, we met almost face to face a
great ship that was making across our course. And I feared that the
worst would hap, for she was of the same build as the fleet of Le Grand
Sarrasin. Did they see us lying in now close by the rock? We could not
tell for a moment, but then there was no doubt. A shout rang out, and a
voice bidding us come aside.

What could men so bidden do? To sail forth were hopeless. This great
craft would overhaul us of an instant. To coast along the shore were
perilous and must end in capture. For a moment Simon hesitated, and then
ran our boat into the creek again.

"See, lads," he said, "here we must stand. The land is more friendly
than the water. Yet I have prayed oft to die on the sea, when my time
came."

We climbed on to the rocks, and he handed us a cutlass apiece and a
knife such as seamen use, and he pointed to a square ledge of rock, that
but one could enter upon at a time, since a thick jagged wall protected
half the front.

"Stay, Simon," said I, "art sure she is a pirate?"

"Ay, lad, sure," he said; "none but a pirate so hails peaceable fisher
craft"

"Simon," I said, "why not give in? Why should you and the lad die for
me?"

The old man laid his rugged hand upon me, and the sun lit up with a rich
light his red beard as he spoke.

"Have not the Brethren taught thee a word called 'Duty,' lad?" he slowly
said, "a word for me, that was born a poor fisherman in the calling of
the Lord's Apostles, as well as for thee born of a great house."

"Then it is thy duty thus to do?" I said, perceiving that naught could
move him, and that indeed a noble strain within him forbade him to be
moved.

"Ay, lad," said he, "and may we all, thou, Jacques, and I, old though I
be, do our duty right well this morn!"

CHAPTER IX.

Of our battle on the rocks of _Jersey Isle_, and how _Simon_ gave up his
life, and how I was taken captive and brought back.

The pirates had put off in two long-boats, and in a short space of time
entered the creek, and climbed across our boat to shore--if shore it
could be called, where the rocks stood broken into such strange and rude
shapes, and where the footing amid them was so rough. I had no doubt of
their errand, for each man had a great ugly naked weapon in his hand,
such as we bore ourselves, only heavier.

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