by G. A. Henty
“We need do no more tonight, Beorn,” he said. “We will see where this comes out and block it up in the morning, though they are not likely to try again. We can sleep now without fear of interruption.”
His first step was to examine the bodies of the fallen Welshmen. He had recognized in the tall man with whom he had crossed swords Llewellyn ap Rhys, and found him lying beneath four of his followers, who had stood over him and defended him to the last. He was glad to find that the Welsh prince still lived, and directed that he should be at once carried to a room and that every attention should be shown him. None of the other fourteen Welshmen who had fallen showed any signs of life.
Ordering their bodies to be carried out into the courtyard, Wulf placed four men on guard at the upper opening of the secret passage. They were to be relieved every hour. He then went out and saw to the relief of the sentries on the walls, and called down to Osgod that the attack had been made and repulsed. He then went back and slept soundly till daybreak. On going to the walls he learned that there had been a great commotion down in the valley. Fierce shouts, loud wailing cries, and a confused sound of running and talking had been heard. At daybreak the Welsh were still there, and their fires had been lighted: one party were seen to march away as soon as it was light, but others arrived, and their numbers appeared about the same as on the previous evening. There was no general movement, but it could be seen that they gathered in clusters, and listened to men who addressed them with animated gestures.
“They don’t know what to do,” Wulf said to Osgod, whom he had joined in the turret. “They believe their chief to be dead; they know that his mother and children are prisoners in our hands; they can have little hope of capturing this place, which they believe to be impregnable to open attack. At present they must be without a leader, and yet they must be so animated by a spirit of hate and revenge, and by the desire to wipe out their humiliation by retaking this place, that they will not stir from in front of it.”
As he spoke a messenger came from Beorn, saying that the Welsh were pouring arrows and javelins from the hill upon his sentries on the walls, and that these were unable to show a head above the parapet. In one of the sheds a large quantity of hides had been found, and taking a party laden with them Wulf proceeded to the wall at the rear. Here he directed the ladders that were still lying there to be cut up into lengths of eight feet. These were fixed at intervals upon the parapet, and a cord fastened along the top, the men engaged in the operations being protected by the shields of their comrades from the rain of missiles from the trees. Hides were thrown over the ropes, and these hid those on the wall from the view of the enemy, while they themselves could peep out from time to time between the hides to see that no preparations were being made for an attack.
The secret passage was next investigated; it was found that the opening was about half-way down the rock, and that the assailants must have climbed up by a path that a goat could scarce traverse. Wulf set a party to work to carry down stones from the courtyard, and to block up the passage solidly for ten feet from the opening, a sentry being posted on the wall above. After the erection of the shelter of hides the Welsh only sent an occasional javelin from the trees, but by the loud yells that were from time to time raised, there was no doubt they were still there in force.
“It is evident that they are going to besiege us, Beorn,” Wulf said when they sat down to breakfast together. “The question is, are we to remain here until rumour carries the report of our capture of the place to Gurth, or shall we despatch messengers to him?”
“As you yourself said yesterday, the messengers could never get away, Wulf. I would give a year’s revenue if we could do so, for it may be a long time before news comes to Gurth’s ears. He may possibly hear of the annihilation of Oswald’s force, for any Welsh woman taken captive might mention that in triumph, but they would certainly say nothing of such a grievous blow to the Welsh cause as the capture of Porthwyn and the death of Llewellyn in an attempt to recapture it. Gurth, therefore, naturally supposing that we had been involved in Oswald’s disaster, may abandon all idea of moving against this place until the greater part of the country was reduced to obedience.”
“I see, Beorn, that the difficulty of a messenger getting through would be indeed enormous; the Welsh must know that we are but a small band, and that our first aim would be to communicate with Gurth. You may be sure, therefore, that they will keep a vigilant guard all round the place at night to see that no messenger makes his way out. Our two interpreters do not know anything like enough Welsh to pass as natives, none of our people know a word of the language, it would be sending anyone to almost certain death. I think we must be content to depend upon ourselves. Gurth is sure to learn the news sooner or later, for it will make a great stir all through the country. I have just seen Llewellyn, he is very sorely wounded. I think it would be a good thing to let the Welsh know that he is in our hands, it will render them more chary of attacking us. We might hang out a flag of truce, and when they come up in reply tell them that he is alive but sorely wounded, and that they may send up a leech, who would better attend to his wounds than we can do.”
This was accordingly done. Two Welshmen of rank came up to the broken bridge and were informed that their prince was sorely wounded, and that a leech would be allowed to enter to attend upon him. An hour later a man with a boy carrying a large basket came up the hill and crossed the plank into the turret. The basket, which contained various herbs and medicaments, was taken from the boy, who was then sent back again, while the leech was taken up to the room where Llewellyn was lying, in the care of his mother and her maids.
Three days passed without any change. The force in the valley was seen to be considerably diminished, no hostile demonstration had taken place; but twenty men always remained in the courtyard in the rear, in readiness to run up to the wall in case the sentries gave an alarm.
On the fourth morning, just as day was breaking, a man ran into the castle with the news that the Welsh were attacking the wall. Beorn and Wulf sprung to their feet, and with every man except those on duty as sentries ran off to the scene of attack. That it was a serious assault was evident by the wild yells and shouts that were heard.
Wulf ran up the stairs to the wall. A storm of missiles was striking against the hides; many of them failed to penetrate, but others did so, and several of the men were lying wounded under shelter of the parapet, while the rest were hurling down javelins between the openings of the hides.
“What are they doing?” he asked the sub-officer in command of the party.
“They are preparing to scale the wall, my lord; they have numbers of ladders.”
Wulf was about to look out between the hides, but the officer exclaimed, “Do not so risk your life, my lord; you can see down without danger;” and he pushed out the lower side of one of the skins from the wall, so that Wulf could look down without being seen by the Welsh archers. The fosse in the rock and the narrow platform at the foot of the wall were alike crowded with foes, who were planting a number of ladders side by side. These were strongly constructed, and were each wide enough for two men to mount abreast. Eight or ten of these ladders were already planted against the wall, and the enemy were climbing up them. Wulf turned, and waving his sword shouted to the men running into the courtyard from the walls and castle to hasten up. Already a dozen had joined him, and scarce had these placed themselves along the battlements when the heads of the Welshmen appeared above it.
For a minute or two it seemed that these would overmaster the defence. Several succeeded in crossing the parapet, but they were either cut down or cast headlong into the courtyard. By this time the whole of the Saxons, save the guard in the turret by the bridge, were on the wall, and were able to form a close line along the parapet against which the ladders were placed. The Welsh fought with an utter disregard of life; as fast as those at the top were cut down or hurled backwards others took their place. So closely did they swarm up the ladders that several of th
ese broke with their weight, killing many of those clustered below as well as those on the rungs. But for an hour there was no pause. It was well for the defenders that they had the protection of the line of hides, and were therefore screened from the arrows of the bowmen on the hill; but these soon ceased to shoot, as many of their comrades were hit by their missiles, while they were unable to see whether the arrows had any effect whatever upon the hidden defenders. At length the leaders of the assailants saw that the task could not be achieved, and gave the signal by the blowing of cow-horns that the attack should cease; but so furious were their followers that many disregarded the summons, and continued their efforts to gain a footing upon the wall, or at least to kill one of its defenders, for some time after the main body had withdrawn. As soon as the last of these was killed the garrison hurled the ladders backwards and then gave a shout of triumph, which was answered by renewed yells of defiance by the Welsh.
“It has been a hard fight, Wulf,” Beorn said, as he removed his helmet.
“It has indeed. It was a well-planned attack, and was nearly successful. We ought to have had a stronger guard there; but I did not think that they would venture to attack at daylight, nor that they could have so quickly run forward and placed their ladders. Had we been but a minute later in arriving here they would have gained this wall and the courtyard. They would, indeed, have got no farther, but their success would have so excited them that we should have had to fight night and day. What has been our loss?”
Five of the men were killed; many of the others had received severe wounds on the head and shoulders from the knives of their assailants, and had it not been for the protection afforded by the leathern helmets and jerkins the number of killed would have been very much larger.
“I would as lief fight with a troop of wild cats,” exclaimed Osgod—who, as soon as he saw that there was no movement down on the plain, had run up with half his little garrison to join in the defence of the wall,—as he tried to staunch a deep wound that extended from his ear to his chin. “Over and over again I saw a shock head come up above the wall, and before I had time to take a fair blow at it the man would hurl himself over upon me like a wild animal. Three times was I knocked down, and I am no chicken either; if it had not been for my comrades on each side it would have gone hard with me. I was able to return the service several times, but had the Welsh been imps they could not have been more active or more fierce. There must be a hundred lying slain along here or in the courtyard. I do not wonder that Oswald’s men were all killed by them, though after our previous fights I held them in but small respect.”
“It is a different thing, Osgod,” Beorn said. “In the field we have always had the advantage from our order and our discipline; but here it was man against man. We had the advantage of position and they of numbers; but discipline went for nothing on either side, and I doubt if we should have done as well as they did had we been the assailants.”
“I am ready to own that,” Osgod agreed. “I like to fight with my feet on firm ground, and should make but a poor figure balanced on the top of a ladder.”
When the tumult in the wood had died away Wulf raised a white flag, and ordered one of the men who spoke Welsh to shout to the enemy that they might approach without molestation and remove their wounded and dead from the foot of the wall, and also said that the Saxon leaders desired to speak to an officer of rank.
Two of these came out from the trees. “Hitherto,” the interpreter cried with a loud voice, “my lords, the noble thanes, Beorn of Fareham and Wulf of Steyning, have given the most honourable treatment to your chief, Llewellyn ap Rhys, wounded and a prisoner in their hands, and to his family. Nor have they altered that treatment while you were attacking our walls; but they bid me warn you and all others in arms against the authority of our sovereign lord the king, that henceforth they will hold them as hostages, and that their lives will be forfeited if any fresh attack be made upon the castle.”
Three days passed without any further acts of hostility by the Welsh. At the end of that time Llewellyn was sufficiently recovered to sit up supported by pillows on his couch. He had already heard of the defeat, with terrible slaughter, of the attempt of his countrymen to recapture the castle, and of the warning that had been given the Welsh that if the attack was renewed the lives of himself and his family would be forfeited. Beorn and Wulf paid him a visit as soon as they heard that he was in a condition to talk to them.
“Prince,” Wulf said through his interpreter, “it is, you must see, hopeless for your followers to attempt to recapture this castle. The bridge is destroyed, the secret passage by which you entered blocked up, and we can resist any attack upon the rear wall. We have shown you and yours a mercy such as you would certainly not have extended to English men and women under similar circumstances, and grieved as we should be to be obliged to proceed to extremities with prisoners, yet were the castle again attacked, and were we to see that there was a prospect of its being recaptured, we should not hesitate to slay you, as it would be treachery to the king to allow so formidable an enemy as yourself to regain his freedom.
“Your cause is hopeless. Harold, Tostig, and Gurth are carrying fire and sword through your valleys, and your people will have to choose between submission and death. Why should so hopeless a struggle continue? Gurth will be here shortly, and then the fate that has befallen the districts already subdued will light upon yours. Surely it will be better for yourself and your people that this should be averted. This can only be done by your sending orders to your followers to scatter to their homes and to lay down their arms. We will at once in that case send a messenger to the earl to tell him that the district has submitted. I must request that in order the message shall reach him you shall bid two officers of rank accompany our messenger to Gurth’s camp; we giving them our undertaking that they shall be allowed to leave it unmolested.”
“Your offer tallies with my own intentions,” Llewellyn said. “Had I been free I would have resisted to the last, but as a prisoner, and with my mother and children in your hands, I am powerless. My harper tells me that fully four hundred of my followers fell in the attack, and with my stronghold in your power, my tribesmen without a leader, and your armies desolating the land, I see that further resistance here would but add to the misfortunes of my people. I am ready, therefore, to send down my harper and doctor to bid four of my chiefs come up here, under your safe conduct. I shall lay the matter before them, and tell them that I being a prisoner can no longer give them orders, but shall point out to them that in my opinion further resistance can but bring terrible disasters upon the district. This, on their return, they will lay before their men, and if, as I trust, these will agree to scatter to their homes, they will furnish the escort you desire for your messenger.”
Two hours later three of the chiefs summoned arrived, the fourth having fallen in the assault. They had a private interview with Llewellyn and then left. A great meeting was held down in the valley, and in the afternoon the three chiefs and six others came up to the castle and formally made their submission before Beorn and Wulf, and besought them to send a messenger to the earl praying him to forgive past offences and to have mercy on the people. An hour later two of the Saxons bearing a letter from Beorn and Wulf to Gurth started under an escort provided by the chiefs.
CHAPTER XII
EDITH
Two days after the departure of the messengers from the castle the look-out gave notice that he perceived a large body of horsemen and footmen coming down the valley, and half an hour later the banner of Gurth could be made out. The garrison at once set to work to replace the planking of the bridge, and this was accomplished by the time that the Saxon earl, accompanied by several thanes, and followed by a strong body of troops, reached the platform at the other end. As he did so Beorn and Wulf crossed the bridge to meet him.
“You have done well indeed, thanes!” Gurth exclaimed. “You have made a conquest to be proud of; for as we rode along this place seemed to us well-ni
gh impregnable. But your messengers have told me how you captured it, and how stoutly you have since defended it. It was a daring thought, indeed, to attempt the assault of such a place with a handful of men. You have rendered a splendid service to the king; for with the capture of this fortress, and of Llewellyn himself and his children, there is no fear that there will be trouble in this part of Wales for years to come. We, too, are specially indebted to you, for had we been forced to besiege this place it could only have been taken with a vast loss of life, and it might well have resisted all our efforts. That seventy men should have taken it, even if weakly defended, is wonderful indeed.”
“It is to Wulf, my lord, that the credit is chiefly due,” Beorn said. “It was he who proposed and planned the attack; and though I have done my best to support him, I have but acted as his second in command. He is quicker-witted than I am, and far more fitted to lead.”
Wulf was about to speak, when Gurth stopped him with a gesture of the hand.
“At any rate, Beorn,” he said, “you possess qualities that are by no means common. That you are a brave soldier I know well, but so I trust are all my thanes; still, it is not every one who has the wit to perceive that another has sharper wits than himself, still fewer who would have the generosity to stand aside and to give the major share in an exploit like this to another. What you may lose in credit by your avowal you will at least gain in the esteem of us all. Now, commandant,” he said to Wulf with a smile, “show us the way into this capture of yours.”