_CHAPTER XX_.
_THE ASSAULT_.
Milan was in mortal fear. The colossal form of the monstrous machineapproached still nearer to the doomed city. The streets were filledwith an anxious crowd of women, children, and men-at-arms, all pressingwith hurried steps to the scene of danger. From every door rushed thealarmed citizens, buckling their armor as they ran. Wagons filled withcaldrons of pitch and boiling oil, creeked as they labored slowlyforward, and the shouts of the leaders, the orders of the consuls, andthe continued challenge of the sentinels, completed the wild andconfused tumult. And still the tower moved slowly on.
The garrison, to repel the attack, brought forward two large machines,which threw stone balls and heavy missiles, and four smaller ones,called catapults, which were to rain stones and arrows upon thebesiegers. From the summit of the walls the enemy could bedistinguished moving from their camp, in four bodies, and impatientlyawaiting the orders to rush forward to the support of the Saxon banner.The city walls were lined with crossbow-men and archers, ready to fireinto the loopholes of the town as soon as it should be within range. Inthe open space between the houses and the ramparts, the noblemen andcivic guard were drawn up, ready for the moment when the drawbridgesshould be lowered and the fight become general. Everything wasconducted in an orderly manner, each man knew his duty. The women andchildren had disappeared; on their knees, in the churches, they wereseeking the aid of Heaven in the strife which was so soon to begin.
All the machines were ready to commence their work of destroying thetown. The two largest were loaded with stones, so large that itrequired the united strength of four men to lift them; and fires werelighted, at intervals along the wall, on which were placed huge ironvessels filled with oil and pitch.
Still the tower advanced. Its motive power could not be seen, and itwas a terrible spectacle, this enormous giant creeping silently along,as though impelled by the breath of a demon.
From within could be distinguished the dull grating of the machinery,and from the loopholes peered the fierce faces of the German archers asthey discharged a cloud of arrows upon the besieged.
Anselmo, the chief of the Milanese artillery, an old man, stillvigorous, with bold features and a quick eye, examined the towercarefully, as it neared the walls. The troops, watchful of the leastmovement of their leader Oberto, were ready to act; but if Anselmo'sskill did not succeed in destroying the tower, they felt that the citywould be taken.
"Let go the catapults!" cried Anselmo, his eyes always fixed upon themachine.
The order was immediately executed, and the old man stepped back tojudge of the effect. There was a deep silence, and all gazed anxiouslyupon the stern visage of their leader, as he touched the spring of theengine. There was a violent shock and a cloud of stones dashed fullupon the front of the tower; but the hay and brushwood, with which itwas bordered, broke the force of the concussion. A second discharge wasattended with a like result.
"By my holy patron saint!" cried Anselmo, shaking his head, "the jadeis solid. If four hundred weight of stone have no more effect than ashower of snow-balls, we have little chance of escaping Barbarossa'scompanions. However, let us try again."
A larger stone was brought forward and put into the catapult; a momentafter it whistled through the air and struck heavily against the tower,but without producing any impression.
"It is useless to try," said Anselmo; "the devil himself must havebuilt that tower!"
"Would it not be advisable," said Nigri, "to arrange the smallermachines for the reception of the stormers, as we cannot prevent theassault?"
"Let go the catapults!" interrupted Anselmo.
But it was all in vain, the advance of the machine could not bechecked; and the garrison turned their attention to the smallerengines, which were filled with missiles of every kind, and to thepitch and boiling oil, which was to be poured upon the enemy as heclambered up the walls.
"Attention! hold everything in readiness!" said Anselmo; "mix well thetow with the oil and pitch. Be lively, boys! take care that your casksbe filled."
Already, severe fighting was going on, in the open space between thetower and the walls. On both sides bolts and arrows flew unceasingly,and wherever a head appeared at a loophole it became a target for thearchers. Germans and Milanese had both suffered severely, for thearrows and stones penetrated through every opening.
"Those Milanese fight very gallantly," said Henry the Lion, as an arrowstruck his helmet. "We have already lost fifty men in the tower."
"The foul fiend seize this style of battle!" said Otho of Wittelsbach,who awaited, with impatience, the moment when the tower should closeupon the walls.
"We shall encounter worthy adversaries, Count," replied Henry. "Theyare loading their engines in our honor!--I only trust that the fire maynot ruin the tower! The Milanese are skilful artificers."
"Upon my honor, as soon as we are on their walls, they may burn it andwelcome," said Otho.
The scene soon began to change; the Milanese had covered their rampartswith boiling pitch, and had lighted a fire at the spot where Henrydesigned to halt the tower, while barrels filled with burning tow wererolled over on the heads of the assailants.
"Forward now!" cried Anselmo. "Get ready the fireballs!" and he rushedto where the smaller machines were raining a cloud of projectiles uponthe drawbridges.
The battle now raged fiercely. The burning tow balls had communicatedtheir fire to the machine, the top of which was in flames; the Germansworked diligently to keep the conflagration in check, until they shouldbe close enough to sally out upon the bridges, while the Milanese withlocked shields and drawn swords awaited the attack.
For a moment there was a deathlike silence, and then the bridges fell,and Henry of Saxony and Otho de Wittelsbach, followed by their troopsin good order, sprang upon the ramparts. They were resolutely met. Othohad one foot upon the wall, but he was driven back; and though hisblows made large gaps in the ranks of the enemy in this fiercehand-to-hand encounter, their places were filled at once with newcombatants. The Lion raged, and although a foeman went down at everythrust of his heavy sword, he was still upon the bridge, and could notadvance a step upon the rampart. The tower was now in flames, and acloud of projectiles darkened the air already black with smoke from theburning resin. Still the struggle went on, and many a German knight andLombard noble fell to rise no more.
Henry and Otho fought on; but in vain: their efforts were powerless tobreak the wall of steel which the brave Milanese opposed to theirassailants. So far, the combat had continued without any decidedadvantage; for, although they could hold their enemy in check, thecitizens were unable to drive him from his position. The image of theirpatron saint waved proudly above them, and the cry of "Saint Ambrose tothe rescue!" rang through the air.
In the midst of the tumult were heard shouts of defiance and of cheer.
"Brothers, think of your liberty! Death to the tyrant!" shouted PietroNigri, who was fighting in the foremost ranks.
"For Church and Country! Death to Barbarossa!" cried another voice.
"Death to the traitors! Death to the rebels!" thundered Otho ofWittelsbach, cutting down an adversary at every blow.
The battle became more desperate, and the ground was covered with thebodies of the dead and wounded, whose blood mingled with the boilingoil. Fresh troops came up from the besiegers' camp, anxious to takepart in the conflict. The tower was now burning fiercely, and to thecries of the soldiers and the clash of swords and cuirasses, were addedthe groans of the dying and the crackling of the flames, which issuedfrom every loophole, fit ornaments to this bloody tragedy.
"Back! back!" was heard on all sides; "the bridge is on fire!".
But, though like burning serpents the flames were twisting themselvesaround the frail passage, although many of the soldiers had retreatedfrom the _melee_, Henry of Saxony, the Count Palatine, and a few otherknights still held their ground. Careless of the enemy in thei
r rear,they gallantly fought onward towards the city. It was in vain; thecourage of the besieged increased with the danger. A horrible cracklingnoise was heard; the tower had commenced to give way, and was sinking.Then those who were on the bridge lost their last hope; an instantmore, and all would be lost, for already it was wrapped in flames.
At this moment, the consul Oberto, a white flag in his hand, sprangforward upon the ramparts, and, as the shrill blast of a trumpet pealedout,--
"Valiant knights! noble gentlemen!" he cried; "cease this fearfulstrife! We value courage, even among our foes; the burning ground isgiving way beneath your feet; lower your weapons, and return peacefullyto your camp."
From this act of generosity there was no appeal. Henry sheathed hissword, and retired. An instant after, the bridge gave way, and then thetower shooting up one vast column of fire, tottered and fell.
The fight cost the besiegers six hundred men, and the Milaneseloss was equally heavy; but it had proved one thing, at least, toBarbarossa,--that Milan could not be taken by assault.
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