XXXVI
A week had passed, and the Gambrevault trumpets blew the last rally; herdrums rumbled on the battlements of the keep where the women andchildren had been gathered, a dumb, panic-ridden flock, huddled togetherlike sheep in a pen. The great banner flapped above their heads with asolemn and sinuous benediction. The sun was spreading on the sea agolden track towards the west, and the shouts of the besiegers rose fromthe courts.
On the stairs and in the banqueting hall the last remnant of thegarrison had gathered, half-starved men, silent and grim as death, gameto the last finger. They handled their swords and waited, movingrestlessly to and fro like caged leopards. They knew what was to come,and hungered to have it over and done with. It was the waiting thatmade them curse in undertones. A few were at prayer on the stone steps.Father Julian stood with his crucifix at the top of the stairway, andbegan to chant the "Miserere"; some few voices followed him.
In the inner court Colgran's men surged in their hundreds like animpatient sea. They had trampled down the garden, overthrown the urnsand statues, pulped the flowers under their feet. On the outer wallsarchers marked every window of the keep. In the inner court cannoneerswere training the gaping muzzle of a bombard against the gate. A sullenand perpetual clamour sounded round the grey walls, like the roar ofbreakers about a headland.
Flavian stood on the dais of the banqueting hall and listened to thevoices of the mob without. Yeoland, in the harness Fulviac had givenher, held at his side. The man's beaver was up, and he looked pale, butcalm and resolute as a Greek god. That morning his own armour, blazonedwith the Gambrevault arms, had disappeared from his bed-side, a suit ofplain black harness left in its stead. No amount of interrogation, nocommand, had been able to wring a word from his knights or esquires. Sohe wore the black armour now perforce, and prepared to fight his lastfight like a gentleman and a Christian.
Yeoland's hand rested in his, and they stood side by side like twochildren, looking into each other's eyes. There was no fear on thegirl's face, nothing but a calm resolve to be worthy of the hour and ofher love, that buoyed her like a martyr. The man's glances were verysad, and she knew well what was in his heart when he looked at her.They had taken their vows, vows that bound them not to survive eachother.
"Are you afraid, little wife?"
"No, I am content."
"Strange that we should come to this. My heart grieves for you."
"Never grieve for me; I do not fear the unknown."
"We shall go out hand in hand."
"To the shore of that eternal sea; and I feel no wind, and hear nomoaning of the bar."
"The stars are above us."
"Eternity."
"No mere glittering void."
"But the face of God."
A cannon thundered; a sudden, sullen roar followed, a din of clashingswords, the noise of men struggling in the toils.
"They have broken in."
Flavian's grasp tightened on her wrist; his face was rigid, his eyesstern.
"Be strong," he said.
"I am not afraid."
"The Virgin bless you."
The uproar increased below. The rebels were storming the stairway; theycame up and up like a rising tide in the mazes of a cavern. A wave ofstruggling figures surged into the hall: men, cursing, stabbing, hewing,writhing on the floor, a tangle of humanity. Flavian's knights in thehall ranged themselves to hold the door.
It was then that Flavian saw his own state armour doing duty in thepress, its blazonings marking out the wearer to the swords of Colgran'smen. It was Godamar, Flavian's esquire, who had stolen his lord'sharness, and now fought in it to decoy death, and perhaps save hismaster. The mute heroism of the deed drew Flavian from the dais.
"I would speak with Godamar," he said.
"Do not leave me."
"Ah! dear heart; when the last wave gathers I shall be at your side."
Yeoland, with her poniard bare in her hand, stood and watched the tragicdespair of that last fight, the struggling press of figures at thedoor--the few holding for a while a mob at bay. Her eyes followed theman in the black harness; she saw him before the tossing thicket ofpikes and partisans; she saw his sword dealing out death in that Gehennaof blasphemy and blood.
A crash of shattered glass came unheard in the uproar. Men had plantedladders against the wall, and broken in by the oriel; one after anotherthey sprang down into the hall. The first crept round by thewainscotting, climbed the dais, seized Yeoland from behind, and held herfast.
As by instinct the poniard had been pointed at her own throat; the thingwas twisted out of her hand, and tossed away along the floor. Shestruggled with the man in a kind of frenzy, but his brute strength wastoo stiff and stark for her. Even above the moil and din Flavian heardher cry to him, turned, sprang back, to be met by the men who hadentered by the oriel. They hemmed him round and hewed at him, as hecharged like a boar at bay. One, two were down. Swords rang on hisharness. A fellow dodged in from behind and stabbed at him under thearm. Yeoland saw the black figure reel, recover itself, reel again, asa partisan crashed through his vizor. His sword clattered to the floor.So Colgran's men cut the Lord Flavian down in the sight of his youngwife.
The scene appeared to transfer itself to an infinite distance; a mistcame before the girl's eyes; the uproar seemed far, faint, and unreal.She tried to cry out, but no voice came; she strove to move, but herlimbs seemed as stone. A sound like the surging of a sea sobbed in herears, and she had a confused vision of men being hunted down and stabbedin the corners of the hall. A mob of wolf-like beings moved before her,cursing, cheering, brandishing smoking steel. She felt herself liftedfrom her feet, and carried breast-high in a man's arms. Then oblivionswept over her brain.
PART IV
Love Among the Ruins Page 36