Under cover of the shafts of
the bowmen a line of peasants ran unscathed to the edge of the
ditch, each hurling in the bundle which he bore in his arms, and
then hurrying back for another one. In twenty minutes a broad
pathway of fagots lay level with the ground upon one side and the
gate upon the other. With the loss of two peasants slain by bolts
and one archer crushed by a stone, the ditch had been filled up.
All was ready for the battering-ram.
With a shout, twenty picked men rushed forward with the pine-tree
under their arms, the heavy end turned toward the gate. The
arbalesters on the tower leaned over and shot into the midst of
them, but could not stop their advance. Two dropped, but the
others raising their shields ran onward still shouting, crossed
the bridge of fagots, and came with a thundering crash against the
door. It splintered from base to arch, but kept its place.
Swinging their mighty weapon, the storming party thudded and
crashed upon the gate, every blow loosening and widening the
cracks which rent it from end to end. The three knights, with
Nigel, the Frenchman Raoul and the other squires, stood beside the
ram, cheering on the men, and chanting to the rhythm of the swing
with a loud "Ha!" at every blow. A great stone loosened from the
parapet roared through the air and struck Sir James Astley and
another of the attackers, but Nigel and the Frenchman had taken
their places in an instant, and the ram thudded and smashed with
greater energy than ever.
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