A prince of lovers

by Sir William Magnay

“That I cannot do,” the seneschal retorted fiercely. “We have had enough of such undesirable guests as yourself.”

“So you convict yourself of falsehood,” Ompertz returned. “The Princess is within, and we will have her out; so the sooner you open your door the better for you.”

For reply, the shutter was drawn across the window with a significant bang, and the parley was at an end.

Had Ompertz not been aware that the lord of Teufelswald was absent, he would have been far less hopeful than he was of taking the stronghold by assault. As it was, he had a pretty shrewd idea that the garrison was far from being a strong one either in numbers or spirit. Nearly a dozen fighting men had been killed or wounded in the two encounters with Ludwig and himself. Four had ridden forth with the Count; surely not many could remain, and those were without their chief, who, besides setting a vivid example of reckless daring, knew how to supplement the courage of his followers by a lively fear of the consequences of defeat. But he, worth a score of his humble bravos, was happily away, and Ompertz had promptly taken care to send a detachment of his men round to the rock door to intercept his possible return.

A short consultation among the leaders of the attacking party resulted in the conclusion that there was but one feasible way of gaining admittance, and that was to batter in the principal door. That looked a formidable task enough; the massive iron-bound oak was manifestly intended to provide against assault, and then there was the heavy net-work of beams forming the portcullis to beat down, even before the door itself was reached. But, given sufficient strength, anything is physically possible, and with several score of men at his back, Ompertz felt he could laugh at the Count’s iron-bound beams, which could have defied a mere dozen assailants for many a day. The first idea of the attacking party was to set fire to the oaken barrier, but the wood was too little exposed to catch alight easily, and, moreover, the contingency had been provided against by the contrivance of a long cistern above the archway from which at any moment the portcullis could be drenched with water.

But, though fire might be of no avail, the united weight and sinews of a considerable body of men made a force which not even Count Irromar’s barricades could withstand. A tree-trunk was utilized as a battering-ram, and the attack began in earnest. It was not without its difficulties. The soldiers swinging the huge log were exposed to an oblique fire from certain loop-holes commanding the approach to the entrance, and several men fell, fewer, however, than would probably have been accounted for had the defence been conducted with more spirit than seemed to be the case. Their exposure to this galling fire had the effect of making the attacking party redouble their efforts; the portcullis began to crack and show signs of giving way beneath the tremendous battering of the swinging tree-trunk; the blows, planted with insistence and precision, increased in effect, and made the yielding of the strong beams only a question of time.

At length, with a crash, the portcullis was staved in, and, with a shout, the men broke through and rushed forward eagerly to take the same measures with the door. The shots from the loop-holes, which had become more frequent and wildly aimed, upon this almost ceased. The soldiers, being now close under the walls, were in a less exposed position, but, apart from that, there were signs that the garrison were either demoralized, or were preparing some new scheme of defence.

In a very few minutes the improvised battering-ram was brought into position to play upon the door, and its thundering blows sent back echoing booms from within. The men, now confident of easily forcing an entry, were laughing, and applying themselves to their task with a will in order to make short work of it. Suddenly there was a warning cry from those behind who were farthest from the walls and, before the foremost men could realize what was going to happen, a huge piece of rock fell in their midst. Fortunately it came down just between the two files of men who were working the battering-ram; it crashed plump on the wood, sending it from the men’s grasp to the ground, and, at the same time, giving many of the workers time to spring aside and so avoid being struck by it. Several, however, who had wound the ropes round their hands were shot forward by the impact, and more or less crushed. All who were unhurt gave a savage cry of rage at the act, and, reckless of a second fall, dashed forward to resume operations upon the door. Ompertz was not slow in urging them on, being now in a wild state of anxiety as to Ludwig’s safety. The Count’s men seemed capable of anything, and the sooner their power for mischief was at an end the better.

“There is plenty of booty in the robber’s den once we get in, my lads,” he cried, and they again attacked the great door with a will. Scouts were posted now to give warning of further operations from the roof, but no more danger seemed to threaten from that quarter.

And now the door began to quiver and crack under incessant, untiring blows, till, from one mighty stroke, it flew open. The leaders, anticipating that the entry would be yet disputed, and that their men would be received with a deadly volley, ordered them, as the door gave way, to fall back on one side or the other.