Читать «Айвенго / Ivanhoe» онлайн - страница 38

“Front-de-Boeuf?” exclaimed Ivanhoe.

“Front-de-Boeuf!” answered the Rebecca; “his men run to rescue him, led by the Templar—together they stop the Black Knight. They drag Front-de-Boeuf within the walls.”

“They attack the wall of the barbican, and some put up ladders, but the ladders are thrown down,” said Rebecca, shuddering; “the soldiers lie under them like crushed reptiles—The besieged have the better. The Black Knight approaches the small gate with his huge axe—the small gate shakes, it crashes—it is splintered by his blows—they rush in—the outwork is won—Oh, God! – they throw the defenders from the walls—Oh men, if you are still men, don’t kill those who can resist no longer!”

“The bridge—the bridge which communicates with the castle—have they taken it?” exclaimed Ivanhoe.

“No,” replied Rebecca, “The Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed—few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle—the cries which you hear tell the fate of the others—I see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle”.

“Now it is over for the time,” she continued; “our friends strengthen themselves within the outwork which they have conquered”.

* * *

During the quiet interval which followed the first success of the attackers the Templar and De Bracy met in the hall of the castle.

“Where is Front-de-Boeuf?” said De Bracy, who fought on the other side of the castle, “men say he has been killed.”

“He lives,” said the Templar, coolly, “but in a few hours he will be with his fathers. Let us think how we can defend the castle. We have lost the barbican.”

“That is unfortunate,” said De Bracy; “Our numbers are too few for the defence of every point. But let us return to the walls,” he continued carelessly; “that man never breathed, who valued life as little as I do. But you, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, will see today Maurice de Bracy fight as a man of noble blood.”

“To the walls!” answered the Templar; and they both ascended the battlements to do all that skill could dictate, and manhood accomplish, in defence of the place. They agreed that De Bracy should command the defence at the small gate, and the Templar would keep with him ten men as a body of reserve, ready to hurry to any other point which might be suddenly threatened.

In the meanwhile, the lord of the castle lay dying. The fever of his body aided the agony of his mind, and when the savage Baron thought about the approaching death he felt new sort of fear.

“Where are these dog-priests now?” growled the Baron, “I have heard old men talk of prayer—prayer with their own words—But I–I dare not!”

“Lives Reginald Front-de-Boeuf,” said a broken and shrill voice close by his bedside, “to say there is that which he dares not!”

The evil conscience and the shaken nerves of Front-de-Boeuf heard the voice of one of those demons, who, as the people then believed, come to the beds of dying men to distract them from their prayers. He shuddered and exclaimed, “Who is there? – What are you? – Come before my eyes that I may see you.”