VILLAINS OUTWITTED.

"Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swear? and discourse fustian with one's own shadow?"—Shakespeare.

In the meantime, the darkness had gathered quickly and deepened into night. This was greatly intensified along the forest path by the lofty and overhanging branches of the trees. The road also had its twists and turns innumerable, here to avoid a massive tree, and there to avoid a huge boulder; and it was little better than a cattle path at any time, and totally impassable, even to the rude Saxon carts, except at broad daylight. In these circumstances Pierre and party moved with extreme difficulty, having frequently to stop to make sure of the road, their oaths and execrations in the meantime resounding through the wood. But Badger, who was as familiar with the forest as the deer which roamed in it, sped swiftly and noiselessly after them, catching up with them quickly. "Ah, ah!" said he, as he caught sight of the black and moving mass in front of him; "one good Saxon is equal to the half-dozen of you here, my hearties! Some of you will have a cold bed in the damp grass to-night for your pains, or else my shafts will go mightily astray!" Then, sticking his thorn cudgel in his belt, he took his bow from his back and adjusted an arrow, and then he crept stealthily near to them. Raising his bow, he drew the arrow to its head; then he withdrew it. "My fingers," said he, "are in a hurry to make a cur of a Norman the less in the world. But where is the use in bagging one of their carrion carcasses and losing the game? To kill a Norman is a luxury; but I must rescue Ethel. Let me see whether my purpose cannot be served best by joining my wits to my weapons. There are three couples—two abreast; and Ethel is in charge of the centre one to the right. I can send a shaft in the nape of the last one's neck. That is one certain. Then there will be a stampede probably: I may get another one. Shall I get the villain who has charge of Ethel? Can't make sure; and if I do, Ethel will come to the ground with him, and perhaps be badly bruised. Well, some risk will have to be taken, for I am but one." So saying, he stole nearer to them. Suddenly, ahead of the party, there was a wide opening in the tops of the trees directly in the line of vision, the outlines of the figures in front showing boldly against the starlit sky. "Now is my time," said Badger, planting his foot firmly, and drawing back the string until it touched his shoulder—when suddenly a hurried footfall in the path behind him arrested his attention, and he darted into the thicket, keeping his arrow in position. When the runner drew near, Badger sprang forward and faced the new-comer, with his shaft still in position. "Who's this?" said he. "Speak, or I'll let fly my shaft!"

"Steady, Badger," said the stranger. "Don't shoot a friend."

"Well timed, Bretwul, I have just been wishing for a Saxon or two! What has brought you?"

"The very purpose that brought you here. I heard of that Norman's attempt to carry off my young mistress, and I knew the wolf, having scented prey like that, would never drop the trail until he ran it down. I watched the abbey night by night, in the hope of frustrating his purpose; but the villain has got clear off with her."

"Not quite so fast, comrade. If you had been a minute or two later, my shafts would have overtaken one or more of them. But it is better as it is, for two of us will make a better fight of it than one. But enough of this; they are not two hundred yards ahead of us. There are six horsemen, and the second horseman at the right side has charge of Ethel. Now, how are we to effect a rescue?"

So the pair debated the matter as they followed on the heels of the party.

"Well, Bretwul," said Badger, "as I was telling you, I was just going to try a rough-and-ready method when your footsteps arrested me. I knew it to be a risky venture, but I little expected any help in the business. Now I am inclined to think a more favourable opportunity will turn up by-and-by."

"Well, I am inclined to think so myself, Badger. There is the risk that the game would carry the shaft, unless it were hit very squarely; and the odds are the other way in the darkness. Any failure would make it bad for the young mistress, it is certain."

"That we must prevent, if possible. But now, what are the chances? These Normans have no strong place near in which they can shut her. I can promise you they'll not dare to carry her to the camp; there is a lady there who rescued her before, and was desperate savage with the brute who offered her violence then. But they will find a place elsewhere; probably leave her for the night in charge of half their number."

"There's reason in it, Badger. Anyway, it is better to wait awhile, and see if some better chance is forthcoming."

So the pair continued to dog the steps of their adversaries, until, emerging from the wood, they struck across an open glade, or clearing, in the forest, formerly cultivated by a Saxon yeoman. Soon they reached the fringe of the forest again, where, embowered within its shelter, was the house of this Saxon; but it was deserted and plundered of everything. Here they dismounted, Pierre lifting Ethel down and carrying her into the house. The cloak was removed, and, lighting a torch, its flickering blaze made visible a two-roomed dwelling, rude and damp in its tenantless condition. The inner room was doorless, and the outer door was thrown back and dilapidated. The floors were of earth trodden hard. There was a rude attempt at a fireplace in the first room; it was built entirely of rough, unhewn stone, whilst its huge, gaping chimney was such, that a man would have had no difficulty in ascending it. Into the inner room Pierre led, or dragged, Ethel; then he fetched a rough stone from the fireplace for her to sit upon.

"Now, fair one," said he, "this is rather a cold place to call home, but we'll soon make it a bit more comfortable. I can see no further advantage in lying in this matter—and I keep a conscience, and don't make a practice of lying for nothing—so I may as well tell you at once that my master admires that pretty face of yours. It is a weakness he has. The more fool he; for it spoils his chances of higher game. Well, that's a riddle you need not puzzle out. But my master is a knight renowned for valour, and for some other things not recommended by the worthy Order of Cistercians, or indeed any strict Orders of the pious gentry. That, of course, is neither here nor there. But my master, when he hears of your distress, is bound, I believe, by his oath, to succour you; and he is well able to do so. It is the highest wisdom on your part to be friends with him. But heigho! no more of that! A fig for doing another man's wooing; 'tis worse than carving for another's eating!"

Happily, much of this jargon was perfectly unintelligible to Ethel.

"Here, men," said he, turning to his comrades in the other room. "One of you must mount guard inside the house, and another outside. We will to camp, and return soon with both eatables and drinkables; so make the best of a bad bargain for a little while. Come, men, let us cut the tail off this business as quickly as we can." So saying, they mounted their horses, and, leading the disengaged ones, their forms were speedily lost in the darkness.

"My fingers itch most dreadfully to try the effect of a shaft upon the carcass of the big lubberly villain who leads the party," said Badger, raising his bow with the arrow directed towards the hazy forms disappearing in the night.

"Stay, Badger!" said Bretwul, laying his hand on him. "The game's in the net; don't rend it."

"Aye, aye. The fool acts on the thought as it is made, but the wise man when it is weighed. But as surely as the gallows nods when the rogue goes by, so his time will come!"

"Well, Badger, what is to be the next move? We must get to business whilst our chance lasts."

"Right, Bretwul. Well, we shall have to work round from the rear of the house, and we shall thus get close on them if we move stealthily. I doubt not but we can brain the one outside before he knows where he is; then, two to one is more than the other will be prepared for."

So saying, the pair stole to the rear of the house, and crept round by the gable, until Badger peered round the corner at the fellow on duty outside. Fortunately, he had his back to them, and was talking through the open door to his comrade within.

"Are you ready, Bretwul?" said Badger, in a whisper to his companion, who followed closely at his heels.

Bretwul made no reply, but brandished his Saxon broadsword aloft in token of his readiness. Then, with the agility of a panther, Badger sprang round the corner of the hovel, and, delivering a powerful blow with his cudgel upon the back of the Norman's head, he felled him in insensibility to the ground, whilst another spring quick as lightning landed him within grappling distance of the other Norman. He also, it is needless to say, was quite unprepared for any attack, and had barely time to spring to his feet and raise his arm to ward off Badger's first stroke, which sent him staggering against the wall; and Bretwul being in close attendance at that instant, with a sweep of his sword effectually cut short all further resistance. Then, returning to the door where the other soldier was lying prostrate, he quickly finished the work of revenge.

Meanwhile, Ethel from within witnessed the scuffling going on, but without comprehending in the least the import of it; she improved the opportunity for flight which the struggle afforded her, by bounding through the open door, and fled like a Will-o'-the-wisp across the open glade in a frantic effort to gain the shelter of the forest, whilst her rescuers followed full chase in her wake. Very quickly, however, Badger's nimble feet caught up to her; when, to her infinite relief, she discovered that they were faithful friends, who had risked much to free her from the custody of the brutal Norman troopers.

Whilst this was transpiring, Pierre and the remainder of his troop stumbled along through the darkness of the forest, all unconscious that their footsteps had been dogged, and their evil purposes frustrated, just when they thought they had been crowned with perfect success.

"This has been neatly done, men," said Pierre. "Now, I wonder what the Baron will do for us in the shape of reward!"

"Well, I guess none of our pouches will burst with gold pieces, Pierre. I expected better pay or more plunder when I took service, I promise you; but his scurvy humours are even worse than his pay. Why don't you take the lead? The whole company is ready for a new master."

"Hold hard a bit. There are others who are getting as tired of his humours as yourself; and if you hear the clash of steel between us you need not be very much surprised, for my temper is none of the smoothest, and he may play the bully some day until nothing will settle it but cold steel."

When they reached the camp, Pierre alone carried the news to his master. No sooner, however, had he put his head within the tent than he gave a grunt of infinite disgust as he set eyes upon the Baron; for he was far gone in his cups.

"Hilloa, Pierre! What now, you scowling villain! What has brought you?" he bawled, with drunken incoherency; but, drunk as he was, he had noticed Pierre's disgust.

"We have executed your order, Baron," Pierre replied.

"Executed my order? Who? What have they done?"

"The commission you gave me about the Saxon lady down at the monastery."

"The wench that all the pother's about?"

"Yes, the same."

"Ah, I remember. Have you got her, Pierre?"

"Yes, as snug as anybody could wish. Not a whisper has got abroad."

"Bravo, Pierre! You are a gentleman. Pierre, do you hear? You are a gentleman, or a thief, I don't care which," giving a drunken chuckle. "Drink, Pierre," said he, handing him a flagon of wine with a trembling hand.

Pierre took the goblet and drained it to the last drop.

Vigneau took it again, and looked into it for a moment with maudlin pensiveness, as though he could scarcely realise that it was really the bottom he gazed at. But the quarrelsome humour in him was never so rampant as when he was in his cups.

"There's a pint of good Rhenish gone, Pierre. Gone, too, into a stomach that must be about rotted out with Saxon ale by this time."

"Well, we'll bring them round with soothing draughts of Rhenish, master."

"Eh, dog? Not with mine, Pierre. With swill if you like, Pierre! Swill will do for a hog like you, Pierre! Eh! Do you hear me? Swill will do for you!" said the Baron, becoming quarrelsome with drunken excitement.

Fortunately, Pierre was sober, or matters would speedily have become serious. Checking the rising choler, he said,—

"What is to be done with this Saxon—Ethel, as she is called?"

"What do you know about Ethel, eh? Have you got her, scurvy villain? I say, have you got her? Answer me that."

"I told you we had, not a minute since."

"Eh? Then speak civilly, varlet! Do you know who I am? D—— me, I allow thy tongue too much licence. I'll not have such impudence from a scurvy trooper as I've taken lately. I'll teach you I'm a gentleman. Now mark me, Pierre. Keep a civil distance. I'll not have it," and he began fumbling for the hilt of his sword.

"Pshaw!" said Pierre, assuming both a look and a tone of disgust.

"Eh, churl, what now?" roared Vigneau, in a towering rage, with great effort staggering to his feet, and after prolonged exertion getting out his sword, and lunging furiously at Pierre. But the act was too much for him. Lurching head foremost, the sword's point came ignominiously to the ground with his weight upon it, to prevent his falling flat. The result was, his great weight forced it a foot into the ground, from which his utmost efforts failed to extricate it, Pierre, meanwhile, vanishing from the tent with a horse-laugh. Vigneau dropped into his seat and stared vacantly at the point where Pierre had vanished, then at the sword standing upright in the ground. But his efforts to recall what it was all about were a total failure. Slowly his bleared eyes closed, and soon after he slid from his seat to the ground, to sleep off the effects of the night's debauch.

"The Baron is drunk and quarrelsome as usual to-night," said Pierre to his comrades, as he issued from the tent. "Nothing can be done with him till morning, and if he be not in a pleasanter humour in the morning, and come down handsome for us, you will have to be led by another, I trow. Well, we'll finish the business we have begun. Let us take victuals and a few other things down yonder. It will be a little more like a habitation, and not so like a sty."

A FRUITLESS EMBASSY.

"A bold, bad man."—Spenser.

To return to myself. I paced to and fro in the abbey grounds in anguish and suspense, waiting for Badger's return, yet almost dreading it, lest he should bring ill news. But midnight passed, and the small hours of the morning came on, with no tidings of Ethel. I feared for her personal safety, and I feared also the effects upon her mind. For I must state here, for the benefit of the reader, that Ethel's surroundings had been such as to strongly imbue her mind with the heathenish beliefs of her ancestors. Her father came of an old viking stock, and rigidly adhered to the superstitions of his forefathers. He had likewise given to Ethel a large measure of his stern and aggressive temperament, and had striven to instil into her mind his own religious beliefs. I had seen also at times the strange flashing of the fierce fire within her, when deeply stirred. Yet I saw there were elements of gentleness and delicacy in her composition, inherited in all probability from her mother, who was Saxon, and a devout Christian. With my whole energy I had striven, at the request of her dying mother, to train her in the Christian faith: but my opportunities had been of a most desultory nature. Then when I began to hope that my work would be accomplished, this terrible invasion occurred. Thus efforts to show her how the fierce passions and reckless bloodshedding of the Norsemen—her father's ancestors—were cruel and heathenish, and their religion a gross superstition, were frustrated by this war of usurpation inflicted upon us by a Christian nation, with the approbation and blessing of the Pope, whilst at the head of their army they carried sacred banners and holy relics of saints. Thus the Christian religion was made to sanction bloodshed and massacre, unsparing and fiendish in its extent and in its mercilessness. In the train of these professedly Christian soldiery also, there followed nameless horrors and offences, which outdid the excesses of Norseman and Dane tenfold. But, worse than all, her father and her two brothers had been massacred—their home levelled—and she, having to fly to the shelter of the sanctuary, only found that the sanctuary was no sanctuary to her, and no protection against violence and brutality. It is utterly impossible to imagine any one more completely shorn of every prop and stay than she was; and I feared much also for her faith. I knew that there was that in her which would not permit her to tamely submit to indignities. But where would her revolt end?

Well, feeling that it would be better to be doing something to effect her rescue than to be absorbed in these painful cogitations, I decided I would start at once for the Norman camp. It was a long and a weary tramp in the darkness through the forest, but still, I hoped, by patient plodding forward, I should reach the camp by daylight. Happily I found I had not overrated my powers. As I drew near, I was challenged by the outpost. There was a considerable parleying, and a determination evinced to prevent my farther advance. But my sacred calling, coupled with the fact that I was unarmed, and that it was now broad daylight, ultimately prevailed, and I was conducted to a tent not far from the one occupied by Lady Alice de Montfort, with whom, after some time, I received an audience, and whom we will in future call Alice. To her I related all that I knew of the outrage, with such description of the persons taking part in it as I had been able to gather. From my description of the leader, she had no difficulty in identifying Pierre as the man.

"Well, Father, I may as well tell you at the outset, that this is what I expected. I warned this Saxon lady of the risks she ran by staying at the monastery, but I could not persuade her to accept my protection."

"She has been a great sufferer, gracious madame," I replied, "during these wars; and she was, no doubt, greatly afraid. Probably, also, she was greatly averse to joining your camp; though it was unquestionably a generous offer on your part."

"Well, reverend Father, I am not saying this to excuse my inaction now, but I assure you from what I know, and what I suspect of the participants in this outrage, that it would have been far easier to keep the prey from the jaws of the lion than it will be to force his den and wrest it from him. I will do my utmost, I assure you. Jeannette," said she, turning to her maid, "let our guest have some refreshment, for he will be weary and faint, I am sure." So saying, she departed I know not where.

She returned in the course of half an hour; but she gave me little hope of success, though she said the Count, her father, had gone out in quest of the persons whom he suspected. She was most gracious to me, and asked most anxiously as to whether we were treated properly by the soldiers quartered upon us. I suspected very strongly that the comparative immunity from personal molestation we had hitherto enjoyed arose in great part from her goodwill and protection. She asked many questions with regard to our books; to our endowments; especially to the great relief we had been able to extend to the poor, and to strangers. I was highly impressed, not only with the charms of her person, but with her highly cultivated mind, and gracious demeanour.

I hastened my departure with as little delay as decency would permit; for to tell the truth, I was driven back upon my first hopes, that Badger's cunning and prowess would be equal to the emergency. I was thus extremely anxious to get me back to the monastery, that I might learn how he had fared. So I hurried over the open plain, and gat me into the forest as quickly as I could. For in very deed I felt myself anything but safe, as I noticed jealous eyes watching me narrowly. But I had scarcely entered the forest when I found myself in the presence of the ungodly Norman who had desecrated the sanctuary, and endeavoured to carry off Ethel—whom, also, I strongly suspected of being at the bottom of this latest outrage. I involuntarily crossed myself, and uttered a prayer for help, for I felt instinctively that I had myself in very truth fallen into the jaws of the lion.

"Well, shaveling," said he, "thou hast said thy prayers, I perceive. Thou hast done well to be prepared, lest the devil should get thee. What has been thy errand to the camp so early? Be explicit and prompt, or thou wilt rue it."

"I have had particular business there, my lord."

"I knew that already, dolt! Let us have details. With whom hast thou had business?"

"With Lady de Montfort."

"So I thought. What was the matter that disturbed your saintly bosom, old smooth-pate? Out with it!"

"There has been an outrage committed upon us, and one of our refugees carried off by force from the monastery."

"Ah! that was terrible! So you first despatched a posse of your bog-trotting Saxon churls to murder two of my men; then you dragged your battered old shins through the woods, to raise a hullaballoo at the camp. It was well done. Now, what shall I give you for your trouble? I think a broken neck is about your deserts."

So, without more ado, he laid violent hands upon me, and tore my cloak from my back. Then he tried to strangle me; but I had been stout of limb, and agile as any of my fellows, when I was young, so I resisted with all my might. I was delighted to find, in spite of the disadvantage of a score of years, he was more blown than I was. Eventually, I was able to slip from his grasp, and immediately took to my heels. He was younger, but stout and bulky; and I found in this point, also, I was greatly his superior, and quickly increased the distance between us. So he gave up the chase, and permitted me for the time being to go in peace. For this wonderful deliverance I gave God thanks.

OSWALD'S DEFENCE OF HIS CASTLE.

"Cry 'Havock!' and let slip the dogs of war."—Shakespeare.

In the meantime, the Normans had made diligent preparation for an assault on the castle. Now the castle could not be described as a very formidable stronghold, or one designed to withstand a regular siege. It had been built mainly to resist the incursions of the Scots, who periodically raided in force into these parts, their purpose being plunder and cattle-lifting. They overran the country quickly, getting them back as speedily as possible, before the Saxons had time to concentrate, so that no very great powers of resistance were needed to repel them, or weary them. Occasionally also the Danes carried fire and sword to our parts; but since the conquest of Northumbria and the north of England generally, by Halfdane, and the settlement of so many of his followers in the land, we had not been afflicted much with their incursions in this part of the kingdom, during my lifetime. Thus, the strength of the castle being sufficient for our hereditary foes, it still was not such as would be likely to long resist the experienced and numerous foes now pitched before it. The castle itself stood on an eminence; was built of good solid masonry, with a battlemented tower rising from its centre, but without any special design. It was strengthened by a wall which ran completely round, forming a spacious enclosure, in which cattle could be speedily and safely housed in cases of emergency. This wall was lofty and fairly proportioned, but its great length made it difficult to man by the handful of Saxon defenders. It is well also to note that, as in the case of nearly all the strongholds of the land, it was provided with a secret passage, known only to the trusted followers of Oswald—a passage which could be entered by the initiated at a certain place in the circular stair which led to the turret. This underground passage had an emerging place, carefully concealed in a dense wood some distance away.

In a very few days the Normans had prepared themselves with scaling ladders, and had cut long poles from the forest for the purpose of pushing the defenders from the wall. Mantelets were prepared of boards fastened together, behind which the attacking parties could advance on the defenders, without exposing themselves to the arrows and javelins which would be hurled at them. The leaders also had pavises, or large shields, which covered the person from head to foot. The time had now come when the assault might be made, it was believed, with impunity, so the Norman forces were put into battle array, a small number only being appointed to the task of protecting the women and the camp.

It was a fine sight to see these disciplined men as they moved to the attack in orderly array. Everything bore evidence to the fact that the plan of attack, and the marshalling and disposition of the forces, was the work of a competent general, one who was well versed in the art of war.

The Norman bowmen were thrown out in companies on either flank, for the protection of the forces who were to conduct the assault, and also for the purpose of distracting and harassing the defenders as they strove to repel the attack of the besiegers.

It needed little military knowledge to see that the issue could not be doubtful. The meagre band of Saxons, stretched in thin line over the extent of wall, could never hold it against the multitude who swarmed to the attack. Oswald alone, of all the Saxons, was fully equipped for the resistance of the clouds of barbed arrows about to be poured amongst them. His second in command, Wulfhere, was partly clad in a light coat of mail; but, for the most part, leathern jerkins were the only protection they had. Had it been an attack in the open, in which the forces were equal, these rough Saxons would have given a good account of themselves. Any one of them could have been depended upon to bring down a stag at a hundred paces. Whilst, if it had been a hand-to-hand struggle with their broadswords, or their pikes, they would have fought with the ferocity of tigers. But here they were outnumbered by ten to one, and so circumstanced that they could not hurl themselves upon their adversaries, and by sheer bravery strike terror into their ranks. They must wait to be attacked, and for every arrow they shot, and for every javelin they flung, there would be half a dozen returned.

Vigneau, Reynard, Jules Reynard and other leaders, were grouped together with De Montfort, who gave orders for successive movements of the besiegers, as though, with the prevision which comes of a carefully matured plan, he could see every act of the stirring drama about to be enacted.

Now the order for assault is given. The attacking party, with their mantelets mounted on rude wheels, steadily advance across the plain, the archers disposing themselves to the right and left in advance of the main body, giving the attacking forces the form of a crescent. The archers, dodging adroitly beneath the trees, were able to get near the wall, thus threatening to put the defenders between a cross fire. The Saxons, with bow in hand and pike at their feet, but without a shout or the wasting of a single arrow, stood grimly awaiting the onset. The Norman archers commenced the attack by letting fly a volley of arrows, but at too great a distance to be effective. Some of them fell short, and the others were easily dodged by the Saxons, who, as yet, had no pressing call upon their attention. But now the attacking party draw near, and, as they do so, they become more exposed. At a signal from Oswald a stinging volley of arrows from the Saxons come hissing amongst them with galling effect. At this the pace of the besiegers is quickened, and their archers are quickly within distance to do deadly execution with their arrows.

The Saxons, too, find it necessary to let go their bows, and grasp their javelins and spears to deal with foes in close contact, who by this time have begun to scale the wall. The foremost Normans were met with a merciless slaughter, and it is probable that never a Norman that day would have kept a foothold on the wall had it not been for the support of their archers. These, being now at close quarters, pour their arrows in pitiless showers into the ranks of the defenders, and many a stout Saxon falls with dozens of these barbed messengers of death in his body. Where the attack is hottest, the Saxons reel and stagger, a foothold on the wall is gained, and the Normans are swarming upon it. Oswald immediately dashes to the spot and his battle-axe descends in thunder strokes. Right and left the Normans are beaten down before him; and, with a shout, the Saxons signal the wall clear again.

But the respite is brief, for quickly Oswald's attention is directed elsewhere by the loud shouts of the Normans. He turns a hurried glance thitherward, only to see that the Normans there have gained a foothold on the wall, and are rapidly overbearing his handful of men, though Wulfhere manfully stems the tide, and deals out to the Normans many a deadly blow. In a moment, Oswald also is on the spot to the rescue, and once more the tide of victory smiles upon the Saxon cause. Again it is only for a brief span, for like an oncoming and resistless tide the Normans surge upon the wall, and beat back the slender ranks of the Saxons. One advantage, however, the Saxons now reap; the combatants are so mingled in one deadly hand-to-hand struggle, that the Norman archers dare not let fly their shafts, and can only stand, and, with bated breath, watch the sanguinary struggle.

In the distance yonder, and at the entrance to the tent, there stand Alice and her maid Jeannette, who shudderingly watch the carnage proceed. Oswald and Wulfhere are now fighting back to back, with shield on arm, and having exchanged their axes for their broadswords. Together they cleave down the ranks of the enemy, until like sheep they quail before these stalwart Saxons.

"What matchless valour this pair of Saxon chieftains display, Jeannette! If ever heroism and valour deserved to win a battle, surely this is the time!"

"How frightened our men-at-arms seem to be!" said Jeannette. "Do you see how frantically the Baron raves there at the foot of the wall, and shouts at the men? He boasts him of his valour. Why does he not mount the wall and face this Saxon?"

"What human lives are being sacrificed! 'Tis most dreadful! May God send us peace quickly!" murmured Alice, shading her eyes at the spectacle before her. "These are our people, Jeannette, but I must confess my sympathies are with the Saxons. This leader, too, defends his home with the courage of a hero. God grant he may not fall into the hands of our men alive, or he will be tortured with fiendish brutality for this day's work!"

The struggle still proceeds with gathering intensity and fierceness. Baron Vigneau, indeed, as Jeannette had described him, does rave and gesticulate frantically. "Down with him! Now, men, rush on him two or three together! Close with him! Push him from the wall! Hurl something at him!" But nevertheless he makes no effort to mount the wall himself.

De Montfort also stands there nervously directing the attack. "Here, man," said he, to a stalwart soldier by his side, "heave up this long pole and aim a blow at the Saxon." The man heaves up the pole, and, with a run and a powerful blow, he struck Oswald on the head. The blow completely staggers the Saxon; for a moment or two he hovers on the edge of the wall endeavouring to recover his balance; but, alas! it is all in vain, and he drops, with his heavy harness on, down into the castle yard a dozen feet or more.

At this untoward event the Saxons, in a perfect panic, rush for the drawbridge thrown across to the wall from one of the barbicans, and intended as a means of retreat by Oswald in the last resort. But the Normans have intercepted them and cut them off from this, and the custodians, seeing that this would be seized by the Normans, immediately withdraw it. Then the Saxons wildly leap from the wall, and for dear life's sake, rush like hunted hares, for the neighbouring thicket.

For a little while attention is distracted from the fallen chieftain by the efforts of the Normans to cut off these flying Saxons. But down there in the castle yard lies Oswald, stunned, bleeding, and insensible; helpless to fight or to fly. Wulfhere witnesses the helpless condition of his leader, and down he leaps and lifts him up and detaches his visor. As he does so, a deep sob escapes from the parted lips of Oswald; but there is no further sign of life or returning consciousness.

Whilst this has been transpiring, the attention of the Normans has been distracted from the leaders by the necessity to clear the walls of the few Saxons who, disdaining to seek safety in flight, die fighting most determinedly at their posts. Now, however, the Normans turn their attention to the two Saxon leaders entrapped within the castle yard. Immediately they send up a yell of fiendish delight, as they behold the almost frantic efforts of Wulfhere to arouse his unconscious master, and restore him to his senses.

But 'twas in vain. Oswald's head had been rudely jammed by the steel helmet in the shock of falling; and it was soon apparent to Wulfhere that the brief respite was now exhausted, without bringing any signs of returning consciousness. He threw his left arm around the waist of his helpless chieftain, and drew him, harness and all, upon his hip, and, grasping his broadsword in his right hand, he made with all the speed he could command for the door of the castle, hoping by this manœuvre to gain time.

But the stalwart and muscular form of Oswald, encumbered as it was by heavy armour, made progress painfully slow. In the meantime, the Normans reversed their scaling ladders and slid down into the quadrangle, and came trooping after the fugitives. Wulfhere saw his task was hopeless, and with a cry of pain like a wounded deer he dropped his helpless burthen on the greensward, and, furious as some wild beast, sprang at the yelling foe, cutting down the foremost at a blow. Following up the others, who quailed before him, he quickly laid half a dozen corpses in a ghastly circle round his master. But there was no end to the stream of furious assailants who were fast surrounding him. "'Tis in vain!" he pitifully exclaimed. "Oh, had I here but a score of stout men to make a rampart of steel, we would defy the yelling crew! God forgive me for this coward's act, my master! I would gladly die with you, but I know I shall better do your will by reserving my worthless life for service to your followers."

So saying, he bounded over the prostrate form of Oswald, and across the sward, mounting the half-dozen steps at the terrace entrance at a spring, and dashing through the open door.

The Normans followed him in concert; but when it became a question of single file to pass the portal, without knowing whether Wulfhere was lurking within, why then they in "honour preferred one another," with the result that they one and all ceased following Wulfhere, and courageously returned to help their fellows to heap indignities upon the prostrate Earl.

Meanwhile, the gates had been burst open and the Norman soldiers, camp followers and all, had pressed into the enclosure, Alice and Jeannette, with the women, bringing up the rear.

"Whatever are they clambering and yelling so about, Jeannette? Is it the dead chieftain?"

"I think so, my lady. They are like wolves worrying their prey."

"It is a pity so brave a man should perish. If he be not dead I will beseech my father for his life; though I am afraid it will be to little purpose."

"See, my lady, he is not dead; he is standing up."

Oswald had recovered consciousness, and, stripped of his helmet, looked around, though deathly pale and half-dazed.

"Do not kill him, men!" roared Vigneau. "We'll have some sport to-morrow, and then you may cut his throat if he survives."

"Do you hear what that beast in human form is saying, Jeannette?"

"It is horrible, my lady. Let us go away; I am quite sickened."

"Stay a minute, Jeannette. Let us have a good look at him. How pale he is! But look at his noble countenance—handsome and expressive as a hero's should be! Such countenances have men only who live temperately and think purely. Contrast, Jeannette, the blotched and bleared countenance of Vigneau. There is a tell-tale and an index at once to the beastly life and foul imagination. How my heart revolts at the sight of him! I would prefer the touch of a vampire."

Meanwhile, Wulfhere threaded his way by a path familiar to him, until he reached the foot of the circular stair which led to the turret, ascending which, and watching through a loophole, he heard the command to spare Oswald's life until the morrow.

"Thank Heaven! Whilst there is life there is hope. If a desperate effort to rescue him will succeed, I count upon a few daring spirits to venture it."

But the tramp of heavy feet resounding through the corridors warned him to delay no longer. Turning his face towards a farther ascent, he ran his hand along the wall in the darkness until the feel of a certain stone arrested his attention, applying his strength to which, it slowly revolved, disclosing an aperture into which a man might drop.

Into this aperture Wulfhere disappeared; and the stone revolved to its place again.

ALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.