The Fall Of The Grand Sarrasin written by William J. Ferrar
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William J. Ferrar >> The Fall Of The Grand Sarrasin
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Then, without let or hindrance, we stood before the gate, and once more
the great bolts shot back, the mighty bars clanged as they moved, and
the huge gate swung heavily on its massy hinges, and the advance guard
sweeping on one side, left the way free for Samson and myself to enter.
Could I enter in such stately wise with trumpet-blare and step of
dignity into that place on that day as a young prince or saviour from
afar? Nay, here were the very stones I had played upon through all my
boyhood, and around me stood the good nurses and governors of my early
years. It was no place for me to enter in this pomp. Nor were these
simple monks the men for me to come back to so ceremoniously.
I stood for a moment by Samson's side in hesitation. Then, seeing Hugo
and the abbot, I forgot the army and Samson and my place, and ran
straight forward, like a babe to his mother, and in a moment had mine
arms around the neck of my father-in-arms, Brother Hugo of the Vale.
Then, when he stayed me, and unclasped my hands, that were like to choke
him, so joyously they hugged, down went I on one knee and kissed the
hand of Abbot Michael, that stood by his side. He, courteously raising
me, said simply--
"Thou hast done well, good child. And glad are we that our woes are
over. But who is yonder gentleman?"
Then I led up Samson to him, and made them known, and a fair scene of
courtesy it was to see Samson in his chain-mail kneel and take the
abbot's hand so thin and delicate in his own rough palm.
"Ye come like angels from above, good gentlemen," said Michael; "for,
with all sparing and restraint, our cruse is now full low, our store
consumed, and, with diminished strength, there was small hope to rebut
the next attack."
"No angels, holy Father," answered Samson, smiling; "but stalwart
fellows in plenty, with a strong stroke and a high spirit. Normans, in
brief, that know well how to carry through a matter such as this. But
how oft have they attempted an attack?"
"Our general shall inform thee best," said the abbot, "this good
brother, whose clear head and strong courage have saved us not once nor
twice; and, indeed, most good it is that two such men as thou and he
should meet."
With that he led Brother Hugo to Samson, and the two brave warriors did
embrace with all due show of courtesy.
"Thrice, now, have they engaged to storm our wall," said Hugo, "and,
while strength remained, we feared not to throw back to their sore
damage such attacks. But three nights back we were in extremer case, for
the rogues entered by a cunning mine the citadel itself, and but for
swift action on our part they had got through in force, and overpowered
the garrison. But, by God's favour, we were aroused in time, and with a
great scuffle drave them back, and with small loss to ourselves slew a
score or more, and so at morn destroyed and blocked the mine; and even
this night we feared a like attack, had you not brought this great army
from my lord the duke to destroy for ever the Sarrasin's arrogance."
Then they took counsel of the resources of their arms; and, indeed, with
the islanders that were with us already, and that now came flocking,
being afeared to come before (as there are such in every cause), we
mustered an exceeding great host, and after the ravages the Sarrasin had
made, we had even now fear of famine till corn could come in by sea. And
the Normans, since the Castle was too strait for all already, lay
encamped in a fair camp by the waterside by St. Sampson's Bay, till
their leader should ordain the order of attack.
Now all was changed in Vale and hill country, for the Moors that so long
had roamed at will, setting their watches and their sentinels on every
headland and navigable inlet, and claiming to be of right the liege
lords of all from Blanchelande to Torteval, from Torteval to Vale, were
now shut up in their great chateau, and their fleets lying in Grand
Havre and Moulin Huet Bay. No longer able to be besiegers, they had
become besieged, and indeed, if they knew all, were already in extreme
case. We saw none of their vile faces in lane or forest-path. The narrow
street of St. Pierre Port was cleared of the swaggerers, with their
clanking metal and heady brawls; while our Normans lay by St. Sampson's
shrine waiting the order to attack, they sat quiet and sullen in their
hold.
And in this sullen calm there was much to fear.
CHAPTER XIX.
How we set forth to attack _Le Chateau du Grand Sarrasin_. Of the
_Normans_' valour, and of the flight of our foes.
Now, for the next two days Samson had under review our islanders, and
the brethren, who in martial accoutrements, and restored moreover
already by good store of food, would fain take part in the great matter
of executing Heaven's vengeance on Le Grand Sarrasin and his troop.
These were bound together in a second regiment auxiliary to the
men-at-arms, and set by Samson of his deep wisdom under Hugo's leading.
Now, all this time the Sarrasin sat still awaiting our assault, like a
sick lion in his cave, and the only sign of life up at his castle was
the green flag on the pole that fluttered in the wind.
And on the third day all was in preparation for the attack. And Samson
had it in mind that he and his Normans would bear the brunt of the
assault, and have our contingent in reserve to fight on the level when
entrance had been made. Now he determined not to attack the Castle on
the side towards Vale, but from the south, where the height was not
great, and there was good cover of brushwood to hide our strength, and
to protect from arrows and balls. We, in a close body, were to lie quiet
to the east within a run, and we were told to await his signal to enter
in the breach to do our share, or, if need were, to swoop on the pirate
swarms unexpectedly, if they essayed to escape to their ships.
And thus once more I found myself by Hugo's side, prepared for sharp
fighting.
"See, Nigel," whispered he, as he stood fuming and craving to be himself
in the thick of the fighting that soon must chance. "Yonder tree shoots
up clean and straight, and, as I fancy, there is clear vision downward
to the Castle, and an easy drop and scamper hither again at the signal."
"Let us mount," I said.
So, careless of rules of war and obedience, like two school-lads we
swarmed up the smooth trunk, and sat soon in the joinings of the
branches. Thence could we see, so far as leaves allowed, the Sarrasin
camp within the walls of the chateau.
They were not to be taken by surprise. For a great array--far greater, I
thought, than came down to the Vale Castle--was collected on the green,
and being divided into companies, had charge of the engines of defence,
or tried the temper of their blades. And I saw others on the wall ready
to roll stones and hot pitch upon their assailants, as is the manner of
defending castles. And amid the companies stalked heavily the Grand
Geoffroy himself in full armour. Could any mistake that great form, and
not feel his presence amid those wild men of so many nations, that his
spirit alone united into one.
"Heigho!" thought I. "Ill knight that seest without being seen; now
without being seen we see thy camp and thee."
As I thought that, his great helm turned our way, and a strange shudder
took my limbs, as he seemed to look upward to our roost, and know us to
be there.
"He sees us," I said to Hugo.
"That were not possible with mortal eyes," said Hugo; "but even evil
beasts are oft aware of the near presence of their foes."
But he had soon to turn his eyes elsewhere, for the Norman assault came
sharp and swift, like the rush of great wild creatures through the
forest. Indeed it was a rare sight--that sweeping mass of chivalry that
seemed to reck naught of the walls, or the arrows, or the balls, or the
pitch that a hundred hands rained down on them. Over the wall they went,
and through the gate that withstood not their charge. O Heaven! they
were not men those Normans, they were storms and floods, they were fire
and mad waves of ocean, that scorn with wild gleefulness the granite
rock and scarped boulder!
I have seen the sea, swept in by a fierce north wind, so triumph over
man's poor defences. I have seen the mad fire catch hold of mart and
dwelling in a blazing town that met Duke William's anger. I saw in the
north the great eygre rush through Lindis' bed, and swamp the peaceful
plain with doom and ruin. Not less resistless, not less vehement was the
first assault of Samson's Normans. And I knew now, as I looked, how, by
fire and spirit more than by numbers, William won the famous day of
Val-es-dunes, and I might have guessed, had I known what was to hap ere
ten years had run away, what would come to pass below Hastings in
England on the crown of Senlac.
They recked not of death or wounds--where one line fell, another took
its place. Like a river that ceaselessly flows, they swarmed into the
Castle, and closed with the Moors. So it seemed that, overcome by the
ferocity of the onslaught, the Moors soon gave up all effort to defend
the wall, but reinforced the troop that held the crest of the hill, that
contended in a mighty struggle with the invading Normans. This way and
that way the battle surged. Now it seemed they would drive them back
after all, now they themselves were carried backward. Norman and pirate
were mixed strangely together in this fierce conflict. We expected each
moment that the signal for us to join the fray would ring out, but it
came not. It seemed to us that Samson, greedy of honour for his men,
desired to claim the total glory of the victory. But we knew not his
great sagacity, nor what a strength we were to him lying there in
ambush.
But what of Le Grand Geoffroy? We saw him bear the first brunt of the
onset. He rushed then like a flame from line to line. And where he was,
the Moors seemed to rush on to victory. Once Samson and he had met, but
supported by two smart swordsmen, the Sarrasin had retired and left
Samson to them. And now we espied him not, and hoped some hand had
struck him that we saw not. Meanwhile, the Normans made great way, and
drave the enemy back step by step, killing as they went.
Le Grand Geoffroy was neither wounded nor dead! With a great shout he
came forth from the very womb of the earth with another swarm of
warriors at his heels, and we saw that this last reserve had been kept
back to surprise us in the rear. Then, as the great monster rushed in
upon the Normans, while still they poured into the Castle, rang out the
signal on the trumpet, and from our ward of trees we lusty islanders and
zealous monks sprang in to do our share. Here was Hugo, and I his
esquire, in the front rank of them all; here was poor distraught Ralf
clutching his hilt like a man frenzied. Monk, gentleman, farmer, miller,
serf--we all rushed with gladness, that the time at last had come for us
to join the battle, in a great wave of fury on the contingent of relief
that was headed by Geoffroy himself. And well we did our part. For we,
who knew so well the cruelties of the man we fought with, were lifted
up by a great spirit of vengeance that seemed not our own, but Heaven's.
His men reeled at our charge, and left their attack to face us. We
charged, recoiled, and charged again. And this time Hugo and I together
swung grandly face to face with the great monster Geoffroy; and Hugo
slashed nobly at him, and for the space of full four minutes there was
sharp sword-play between them, and I hoped each moment that Hugo would
best him.
But the duel was not fought out, for (as I heard after) so well had the
Normans fought, and so many pirates lay in heaps on the green, that a
great panic at this moment fell upon the pirates, and already, like kine
affrighted by a wild beast, they were rushing headlong through the
northern gate, that some one had unfastened, and pouring down full-tilt
to the Grand Havre, where their ships were, and the Normans were after
them like hounds on the scent, slaying as they went.
Now, this Geoffroy saw, and rushing in strove manfully to stay the
flight. But they were too frantic to hear him or obey. In a moment he
made up his mind.
"Follow my lead, then," I heard him cry to his own reserve; "we will not
stay to be cut down here. To the sea! To the sea!"
He jumped into the saddle of his steed, that stood ready caparisoned,
and was through the southern gate with the pirates on his heels, and we
on theirs, before we were well aware what had happed.
Le Grand Sarrasin was making for his other fleet in Moulin Huet.
And of the Normans and of many of us the pirates had the advantage, for
they wore not much armour. With the wings of desperation they fled
before us seaward over mile on mile of forest and lane. And like a
terrible storm we sped behind. Never again may such a storm rage in
Guernsey lanes and hills.
Some that were ill runners were smitten down by us as they lagged
behind; some that had been wounded before, and were weak from loss of
blood, dropped heavily into the brake on this side or on that; the more
part, as they neared the sea, pressed on faster, cheered now and again
by the voice of their leader far ahead on his horse, as he shouted, "To
the ships! to the ships!"
CHAPTER XX.
Of the sore slaughter in the glen of _Moulin Huet_ and on the shore; and
how _Le Grand Sarrasin_ was slain, and of his secret.
At last we reached the head of the glen, and far down below us we saw
the blue water of the bay, enclosed on either side with its great rocky
bulwarks. And a great portion of the Sarrasin ships were there at anchor
as near shore as they might safely lie. And there were many little boats
pulling in to take the runaways aboard.
Helter-skelter they went down the rugged, winding path, jostling their
fellows with knee and shoulder, hand and heel, as they slammed on their
way. Le Grand Sarrasin we saw not, and guessed for the moment that he
was already aboard. But when we came in sight of the bay, not long we
stood in hesitation, but with a shout and a cry that rang terribly as it
echoed from rock to rock, we rushed madly after, spreading our force
along the side of the cliff as our fellows pressed on us behind.
We too were carried on like a mad torrent that could not stay itself,
and in the front we cut furiously with our swords at the tail of their
long line whenever chance was afforded. Not many so we slew, but a
number tripped over in the rush were trampled underfoot, or threw
themselves in the streamlet's bed, wherein afterwards they were speedily
slain.
But an end came at last to that mad descent, and all-quivering and
furious, we landed on the shore. We stayed a moment till a great troop
was round us, every moment swelling as the laggards came up, thirsting
to have a lot in so great a matter, and then with a mighty charge, that
our foes scarce essayed to meet, we drove them before us into the sea.
Ay! in that deadly rush, with swinging steel and echoing cry like angels
of great Heaven's power, we swept them like some unclean stuff off our
island's face into the water. There was great slaughter all along the
bay. Some climbing into boats were knifed behind; some half-drowned in
the water we cut to pieces; some, but poor swimmers, never reached their
ships; and more than one boat capsized, being overfull of raging and
infuriated men.
A little remnant speedily entrenched themselves amid the rugged
boulders, and smarting as they were with wild and bitter rage, we left
them in their fortress, till one of the ships espying them, a boat was
sent amid the rocks that they climbed towards and entered safely without
hindrance from us. These and the few that swam, and the few that escaped
in boats, and some that hid themselves in cave or brake, and afterwards
escaped, were the scanty sum of that bodyguard of Le Grand Geoffroy that
got to their ships.
The rest lay on the road, or in the water-way, or here where the shore
met the white roll of the surf, in great heaps that the waves played
with, as they rolled up and ran back dyed with blood. So we islanders of
Guernsey and Brethren of the Vale dealt with one-half of the pirates'
force, while good Samson d'Anville did likewise with the other half as
they fled to the Grand Havre.
It was when we at last rested from this sad work of slaughter that I
looked up to the clear sky, since earth and sea seemed all defiled with
blood, and lo! there on the spur of land that divideth the Bay of Moulin
Huet from the Bay of All Saints, high up on the top, with his form
outlined against the sky, sat Le Grand Sarrasin on his Arabian steed. I
showed him in a moment to Hugo.
"Fools that we be," cried he, "that stain our hands in this foul work
upon these paltry runaways, while he, the chief cause of these men's
offending, still goes free!"
"See," I said, "the monster gazes down on the downfall of his lieges,
and sees them die without a care!"
"Ay, for he knows," said Hugo, "there is plenty of evil men in the world
for him still to lead."
With that Hugo picked out some twenty of his most trusted men and bade
us follow him.
So we started up the cliff side by a little path that wound upward amid
the gorse. And still all the time as we toiled with foot and hand at
climbing, upon the summit sat the Sarrasin, as though with a proud air
deriding our attack.
"Whom seek you, good gentlemen?" he cried to us as we climbed below.
"A vile knave and caitiff!" Hugo cried back.
"He hath not passed this way," shouted the Sarrasin, "so lose not your
labour, good sirs, at this boys' play of climbing."
"It is not boys' play down yonder!" returned Hugo. "Oh, villain, cursed
villain, we will mete you the same measure!"
"Then you must rival my Pearl of Seville!" he cried, just galloping
lightly away as we landed on the summit.
So he had got away to some secret place, of which there were so many on
the coast, had he not met full-tilt a strong band of the Normans that
were even now on the road, being sent down by Samson to see that we were
not worsted.
These he met tramping to Moulin Huet Bay, and, wheeling hastily at the
sight of them, found us behind him. Like a spent hare that runs into a
hole, he spurred to the house at Blanchelande that lay at the head of
All Saints' Bay, and we that followed at a run heard his beast clatter
over the drawbridge of the moat. We rolled a great stone on to the
bridge that none could draw it up, and, with the Normans following
behind, pursued him into his cover. The good steed stood riderless
before the gate. With all our weight we burst the door, and ran in a
great body into the hall wherein I had visited my Lord of Rouen.
No man was to be seen therein, and for a while we stood at fault,
Normans and islanders alike, and then went through the house, battering
with lusty strokes, that echoed again, every part of wall or wainscot
that might afford concealment.
Had all our struggle been for naught, and would the arch-villain escape
us thus? We came back to the great hall, and stood therein while our
followers ran riot in the house. I took up, as we stood by my lord's
table, that very curious box or optic-glass, wherein he showed me far
things brought close, and curiously raised it to my eyes, and gazed down
upon the bay. It was brought wondrous clear, and the waves seemed
dancing before mine eyes. Suddenly I saw what made me drop the glass,
and hastily drag Hugo with me out of the house. The glass showed me the
Sarrasin stealing along the shadows of the glen downwards to where a
little boat lay moored by the rocks.
We tracked him like a quarry; and ere long he knew we were behind him,
and hasted, sore hindered with his great bulky body, to the shore. There
we overtook him, and at once he faced us, and made with his sword a
great lunge at Hugo that well-nigh took his life. But even so, Hugo was
quick with his parry, and kept him at fence.
"This is no fair fight 'twixt man and man, false monk!" cried the
Sarrasin, as I had a stroke at his undefended side, so hot was I for his
blood.
"Stand off, good Nigel," sang out Hugo. "None shall say I beat him by
foul means."
With this, after sundry passes that came to naught, he drove his good
sword straight into his enemy's side; for, indeed, Geoffroy was wild in
his swordplay, and left openings clear to a cool man.
Le Grand Sarrasin rolled heavily on the sand, and we knew that never
again would the pirates gather head to harm our island.
"Had I but gained the ship," he howled, "I would have been duke yet."
Now this was the last he said, for a great spurt of blood coming from
his side, he raised himself a moment on his arm, and then fell back upon
the sand.
We knew not what face of horror we should gaze upon as we essayed to
pull the helm from the head of Le Grand Sarrasin, that never showed his
face to men.
The helm came off in our hands. It was no hideous countenance that it
had masked, nor did we fear to gaze on it in death.
It was the face of my Lord Archbishop of Rouen, whom I had visited in
his house hard by, and whom I had seen disguised in Normandy, that I now
plainly saw.
Where, then, was Le Grand Sarrasin? Le Grand Sarrasin had been none
other than this exiled man, that among the most evil of mankind had
sought to raise a power that might one day overthrow William himself.
And in this ruin of his glory, achieved by grace of Heaven through our
hands, Le Grand Sarrasin was brought to naught.
"Thou knowest who this was?" said Hugo, calmly.
"Ay, well I know," I said.
"Thou and I alone know this dark thing," he said. "Is it well that it
should enter into men's mouths and minds?"
"Thou knowest best, Hugo," I said.
"Then," said he, "I say it were well for the Church of God, and for
men's love of honour, and for truth and righteousness, that none know
but ourselves this dead man's secret. Let him die Le Grand Sarrasin, a
heathen Moor and no baptized Norman."
"But Maugher will be missed," I said.
"Yea; and a meeter tale than this will serve," said Hugo. "A false step,
a squall at sea--anything but _this_." He pointed to the body. "Wilt
thou keep silence?"
"If it be thy will," I said.
"Assist me, then," said Hugo.
So we dragged the body of the exile a short way over some rocks, whose
black bases the deep water washed upon, and weighting it with some great
stones, pushed it into the dark deeps. Thence none would raise him again
to discover what manner of face wore Le Grand Sarrasin; and none would
guess it was no dark visage of the south, but the face of an evil
traitor, so much the more evil that he was called by the two high names
Norman and Christian. There shall he lie till the great blare of
Heaven's trump call good and ill to judgment.
CHAPTER XXI.
Conclusion. How, the above matters being finished, I was made known to
my father.
Thus fell Le Grand Sarrasin, and I would fain finish this chronicle
here, for all matters at the Vale most quickly returned to their old
order, the next year being chiefly occupied with the rebuilding of the
cloister and the planning of that great church that took so many years
to build, which at last is so magnifical, that the old church wherein we
used to sing with our boyish trebles seems in our memories but a poor
place.
To the laying of these noble stones much of the stores of treasure found
in the caverns at the chateau was justly devoted, and the holy things of
many a plundered House of God are to be found in the stately church of
the cloister.
And in my time, at least, no pirates ever landed on that island. Like a
rock of doom they shun the place, for indeed many hundred of them
perished there, as I have told, and they lost in one day the gathered
treasure of years of crime.
And their captain being destroyed, their spirit seemed fled out of
them, to the joy of all good and honest men.
But I must close up this chronicle of his fall with an event that
concerned myself, which, as it were, flowed straight out of it. For if I
had not journeyed to Normandy, and been caught on my way first by Le
Grand Sarrasin, I suppose I should never have been made known unto my
father.
And it is of my father, Ralf de Bessin, that I must therefore tell.
Now, the next day after, when we had rested ourselves of our great toils
in the battle and pursuit, I and Brother Hugo purposed to go to the
Chapel of St Apolline to offer our thanks to the priest and him that had
saved me from all the unknown horrors of the prison in which I was pent.
Or at least we would hear whether yet they had appeared again.
The fall of the Moor had brought them back to earth, and they sat
together in the small hut beside the fishers' chapel, whence I had set
out on my second journey. All the time they had lived in a cave hard by,
fed daily by some fisher folk that knew their hiding-place; and indeed
they looked as men that had fared exceeding roughly, and all the
plumpness of the good Father had fled away.
I told them my story as I have told it to you in these leaves, and he
whom I knew as Des Bois inquired again and again of all my dealings with
the vicomte. Then, when I had finished, he said--
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