Annals of a Fortress

by Eugène-Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc

After the combat, Anseric, full of anxiety, and without stopping to change his martial accoutrements, covered with mud and blood, had hastened towards the postern of the donjon. There he had learned from his watchmen that the environs of the outer wall were occupied by the Burgundians about bowshot distant, that they were numerous, well shielded, and communicated with another post established beneath the western rampart, and with a third on the eastern side.

Anseric felt a cold sweat cover his face; but he said to himself that the vavassor was cautious, and certainly would not come and throw himself blindly into the snare. He thought for the moment of sallying with his bravest men by the postern to fall on the troop; but to what purpose? The latter would quickly be supported, the post of the wooden tower would take to their arms, and all chance of getting Eleanor and her party in would be compromised. It would be better to send away his wife and to await events.... But how communicate with her? It was impossible to send her a message. He then remounted the steps of the postern in anxious thought. The baron came that way, and Anseric related everything to him.

"Nothing is lost, dear nephew; we will get Eleanor in, for it is necessary that we should know from herself the result of her mission; that must influence, one way or the other, the sequel of our defence..... Leave me to act.... Brother Jerome is an intelligent fellow; we will consult together....

"In the meanwhile, go and watch without from the top of the eastern ramparts; for, whether Pierre Landry comes alone or with our party, it can only be by that side, since he cannot cross the river whose bridges are guarded. He must have crossed the rivulet in order to get to the outlet of the postern. Go, look and listen attentively!".... Anseric, ascending the eastern defences, enjoined on his men the greatest silence, and put his ear to the listening places—first in one tower then in the next; but he only heard the dripping of the rain on the roofs, and the sighing of the wind. In a little while the baron and brother Jerome, provided with a long rope, came to seek him. "Make yourself easy, dear nephew; Brother Jerome is first going to reconnoitre.... But call four men to help us."

A board was fastened transversely to one end of the cord; this end was thrown over the outside through one of the embrasures, while the cord was held by the four men. Brother Jerome, with his grey dress tucked up, a large knife at his belt, put his feet on the board, grasped the cord with both hands, and he was gently let down. When the rope was slack, the brother was at the foot of the rampart, and they waited.

At the end of half-an-hour, which seemed an age to Anseric, a slight movement given to the cord intimated that brother Jerome was returning. The cord tightened, and the four men had soon hoisted the brother up to the merlons. "Well?" said Anseric. "The vavassor is there; I was very nearly killing him, taking him for a Burgundian, for he has the dress of one; it was he who recognised me and called me by my name." "Well! well! Eleanor?"—"All are there concealed, for the Burgundians are not far off; in this diabolical weather they are earthed like rabbits; no time must be lost. Let down a barquette at the end of the cord; we will hoist up the Lady Eleanor, and the others afterwards, if the Burgundians let us."

The barquette was quickly brought, and firmly attached to the cord, then let down; a shake of the rope intimated that Pierre Landry was below: soon after, a second shake intimated that the barquette was loaded. They hoisted, and dame Eleanor very soon showed her face at the battlement; all hands lifted her to the arms of her husband. The two women, the captain, the eleven men-at-arms, and the three monks were thus hoisted, without mishap, but were wetted to the skin.

In spite of the loss of the bailey, and the death of a good number on their side, Anseric's men were full of joy when at dawn the defenders were told that an army of the King of France was coming to their relief, and that it was only a question of continuing the defence a few days longer.

Eleanor's mission had perfectly succeeded. The king, Philip Augustus, who appeared to hesitate at first, had quickly determined when the messenger Jean Otté came to tell Eleanor of the burning of the abbey. The king had desired to see this messenger, and the latter, who knew whom he had to deal with, had recounted how the duke's men, without warning, without any provocation, had taken possession of the monastery, had set it on fire, had massacred some of the monks, and driven out those who remained. Soon after, a letter from the abbot of Cluny came to confirm the fact, imploring the justice of the king.

Eleanor, as a woman who knew what she was about, had not failed to make known to the suzerain that the dearest wish of her husband and herself for a long while had been to put the fief of La Roche-Pont into the hands of the king: that they should not, however, have declined the homage rendered to the duke for the fief, if that noble had not, by his violence and the plundering of his men, provoked this decision on their part; that far from being the protector of his vassals, the said duke was bent upon ruining them: and that if he (the king of France) presented himself on the domain of Roche-Pont, he would be received there as the sole and puissant justiciary, alone worthy to govern.