St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers

by G. A. Henty

A PLACE OF REFUGE.

The French, excited to the utmost by the exhortations of their commanders, and by their desire to wipe out the disgrace of the easy capture of Vannes by the English, advanced with ardor to the assault, and officers and men vied with each other in the valor which they displayed. In vain did the garrison shower arrows and cross-bow bolts among them, and pour down boiling oil and quicklime upon them as they thronged at the foot of the wall. In vain were the ladders, time after time, hurled back loaded with men upon the mass below. The efforts of the men-at-arms to scale the defenses were seconded by their archers and cross-bowmen, who shot such a storm of bolts that great numbers of the defenders were killed. The assault was made at a score of different points, and the garrison was too weak to defend all with success. Sir John Powis and his party repulsed over and over again the efforts of the assailants against that part of the wall intrusted to them, but at other points the French gained a footing, and swarming up rushed along the walls, slaying all whom they encountered.

"All is lost," Sir John exclaimed; "let us fall back to the castle and die fighting there."

Descending from the wall the party made their way through the streets. The French were already in the town; every house was closed and barred, and from the upper windows the burghers hurled down stones and bricks upon the fugitives, while parties of the French soldiers fell upon them fiercely. Many threw down their arms and cried for quarter, but were instantly slain.

For awhile the streets were a scene of wild confusion; here and there little knots of Englishmen stood together and defended themselves until the last, others ran through the streets chased by their exulting foes, some tried in vain to gain shelter in the houses. Sir John Powis' band was soon broken and scattered, and their leader slain by a heavy stone from a housetop. Walter fought his way blindly forward toward the castle, although he well knew that no refuge would be found there. Ralph Smith kept close beside him, leveling many of his assailants with the tremendous blows of a huge mace. Somehow, Walter hardly knew how, they made their way through their assailants and dashed in at the castle gate. A crowd of their assailants were close upon their heels. Walter glanced round; dashing across the court-yard he ran through some passages into an inner yard, in which, as he knew, was the well. The bucket hung at the windlass.

"Catch hold, Ralph!" he exclaimed; "there is just a chance, and we may as well be drowned as killed." They grasped the rope and jumped off. The bucket began to descend with frightful velocity. Faster and faster it went and yet it seemed a long time before they plunged into the water, which was nigh a hundred feet below the surface. Fortunately the rope was considerably longer than was necessary, and they sank many feet into the water, still retaining their hold. Then clinging to the rope they hauled themselves to the surface.

"We cannot hold on here five minutes," Ralph exclaimed; "my armor is dragging me down."

"We will soon get rid of that," Walter said. "There go our helmets; now I will hold on with one hand and help you to unbuckle your breast and back pieces; you do the same for me."

With great efforts they managed to rid themselves of their armor, and then held on with ease to the rope. They hauled the bucket to the surface and tied a knot in the slack of the rope, so that the bucket hung four feet below the level of the water. Putting their feet in this, they were able to stand with their heads above the surface without difficulty.

"This is a nice fix," Ralph exclaimed. "I think it would have been just as well to have been killed at once. They are sure to find us here, and if they don't we shall die of cold before to-morrow morning."