Cedric, the Forester

by Bernard Gay Marshall

The first night had been starlit, but that which now came on was cloudy and so dark that one could scarce discern an enemy at a dozen paces, and not then unless his figure were seen against the sky. None of our men were allowed to sleep, for it was felt that the Carletons might come at us again at any moment and with much better chances for success than before. No one in the castle forgot that our enemies outnumbered us by almost a score to one or had any doubts as to what would come to us if by force or by treachery, the Gray Wolf and his pack made their way into our courtyard.

Soon after midnight we heard a loud tramp and roar of footsteps in the direction of the wood. Arrows we sent hap-hazard toward the attack, but in the darkness these did little more than tell our enemies that the Mountjoy men were at their posts. In a moment the other side of the moat was thronged with half-seen figures. Cries of command rang out and the waters of the ditch splashed high with the strokes of fascines, logs and sacks of earth. Now again our archers found victims, but in the murk and mid the wild cries and running to and fro these were but few. Most of our bolts struck harmlessly into the ground or the water or rang against the stones of the moat wall.

The frontmost of the churls who bore the brush and sacks, when they had cast their loads into the ditch, turned and ran back to the edge of the wood whence they presently returned with fresh supplies. Had it not been for the good labors of old Marvin and Alan in moving the matter cast down in the first attack a way would soon have been laid to the foot of the drawbridge. As it was, our ditch was fast filling. There seemed to be thousands of the burden bearers, running like Imps of Darkness with planks and great bundles; and in the pitchy dark of that black night the fire of our garrison had no effect.

I was firing as fast as might be from one of the arrow-slits; but, like the others, could not tell whether any of my bolts were finding victims. Each moment the numbers of our enemies increased. The pile of planks and brush now reached nearly to the inner wall of the moat. My mother ran back and forth behind the archers, carrying new supplies of missiles, and shouting heartening words. Old Marvin was hurling bolts as fast as he could load, and roundly cursing the hounds of Carleton and the blackness of the night that sheltered them. A moment more and I could hear axes ringing against iron. The bloody crew were hacking at the fastenings of the chains of the drawbridge.

Suddenly a thought crossed my mind like a shooting star; and I sprang away from my firing port.

“Mother,” I cried, “we must have light to shoot by or we’re undone. Quick! the torches!”

Throwing down my cross-bow, I ran into the great hall and caught up a torch from the mantel. Thrusting it deeply into the fireplace embers, I quickly kindled it; then sped up the stairs toward the battlements.

Not for nothing is my lady mother a Montmorency of the old fighting line. In a trice she had understood my plan and was following me with a lighted torch. Close behind her came old Dame Franklin, bearing another. The three of us ran with all our might up the crooked stair and the ladders, and came out on the battlements, under the black sky.

As if the castle were all aflame, the moat and the farther bank were lighted by the glare. In an instant the cross-bowmen found their targets among the fascine bearers and the men-at-arms who were already swarming across. At once we heard their cries of rage and pain, and could see corpses rolling down the bank into the muddy waters. Alan heaved great stones from his supply on the battlements on to the heads of the men-at-arms in the ditch who but now had been raising a shout of victory. Old Marvin took most careful aim at a gray beard which caught the flare of light, and sent forth a mighty yell of joy as the knight spun around on his heel and fell to the ground.

Oh, the crowding and shouting and trampling under foot in the ranks of our enemies! The threats and the fear and the curses! Our arrows kept pouring from the firing slits. A younger knight caught his chief by the shoulders while another seized his legs, and they bore him quickly away. There was no need for any order to retreat. The whole body was in headlong flight in the winking of an eye, pursued by the whizzing bolts and the jeering yells of our fellows in the towers. On the battlements above stood my lady mother, old Dame Franklin and I, holding aloft our flaming torches.