One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from window and shot-hole. But in other parts the besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance which had long animated them against the soldiers of the tyrant, Front-de Boeuf. Most of the garrison resisted to the uttermost; few of them asked quarter, none received it.
As the fire commenced to spread rapidly through all parts of the castle, Ulrica appeared on one of the turrets. Her long dishevelled gray hair flew back from her uncovered head, while the delight of gratified vengeance contended in her eyes with the fire of insanity. Before long the towering flames had surmounted every obstruction, and rose to the evening skies one huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide through the adjacent country; tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof and rafter. The vanquished, of whom very few remained, scattered and escaped into the neighbouring wood. The maniac figure of Ulrica was for a long time visible on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossing her arms abroad with wild exultation. At length, with a terrific crash, the whole turret gave way, and she perished in the flames which had consumed her tyrant.
When day dawned the outlaws and their rescued prisoners assembled around the trysting-tree in the oak forest, beside the now ruined castle. Two only of Front-de-Boeuf's captives were missing: Athelstane and the Jewish maiden, the former being reported as amongst the slain, and Rebecca having been carried off by Bois- Guilbert before her friends could effect her rescue.
When the outlaws had divided the spoils which they had taken from the Castle of Torquilstone, Cedric prepared to take his departure. He left the gallant band of foresters sorrowing deeply for his lost friend, the Lord of Coningsburgh; and he and his followers had scarce departed, when a procession moved slowly from under the greenwood branches in the direction which he had taken, in the centre of which was the car in which the body of Athelstane was laid.
When the funeral train had passed out of sight, Locksley addressed the Black Knight, and asked him if he had any request to make, as his reward for the gallantry he had displayed.
"I accept the offer," said the knight; "and I ask permission to dispose of Sir Maurice de Bracy at my own pleasure."
"He is already thine," said Locksley, "and well for him!"
"De Bracy," said the knight, "thou art free; depart. He whose prisoner thou art scorns to take mean revenge for what is past. But beware of the future, lest a worse thing befall thee. Maurice de Bracy, I say, BEWARE!" De Bracy bowed low and in silence, threw himself upon a horse, and galloped off through the wood.
"Noble knight," then said Locksley, "I would fain beg your acceptance of another gift. Here is a bugle, which an English yeoman has once worn; I pray you to keep it as a memorial of your gallant bearing. If ye should chance to be hard bestead in any forest between Trent and Tees, wind three notes upon it, and ye shall find helpers and rescue."
"Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman," said the knight; "and better help than thine and thy rangers would I never seek, were it at my utmost need."