Belgian Fairy Tales

by William Elliot Griffis

But the Duke, instead of listening politely, was even more impudent, than before. This time he not only wiggled the fingers of his right hand at the trumpeter, but he actually wiggled-waggled. That is, as soon as the trumpeter ceased blowing, he put his right thumb to his nose, and then, joining the little finger of the right hand, to the thumb of his left hand, he made a most contemptuous double motion, with all of his ten fingers wiggling at once.

At this the trumpeter, having lost his temper at the Duke, who was high up on the walls, shook his fist at him, and went off in high dudgeon. He reported to Charlemagne that his overproud vassal had actually wiggled-waggled to his face.

Thereupon, Charlemagne ordered his army to bring up the catapults, and they sent a storm of stones into the castle. They hurled blazing bundles of oil soaked in tow, while the archers and crossbowmen swept the turrets and walls with showers of arrows, and iron-headed bolts. This was to keep off the besiegers from the ramparts, so that they could not interfere with the sappers and miners. These men were far down on the lowest side of the castle, digging below [[218]]the foundations, so as to undermine the walls and tumble them down. They dug the earth away, with their picks and hammers, and then knocked away several rods of masonry. At first, they supported the walls at intervals with heavy pillars of wood, made of tree trunks, until all was ready. Then, they would set the wooden columns on fire, and the whole side of the castle would fall down.

Then again, Aymon was summoned to surrender, but nothing came of it; for, hardly had the echoes of the trumpet died away, before the duke was seen again at his old game of “sniggle-fritz”; that is, of playing wiggle-waggle, with both hands and his ten fingers. Meanwhile, he said all sorts of saucy things, boasting of how many barrels of salt beef he had in his larder, and bushels of oats in his bins.

Poor old fellow, he did not know that the fires, under the foundations of the walls, were to be kindled that night, which would spill most of his castle and all of his storehouses and stables into the valley, far beneath.

But his oldest son Rinaldo, the long-legged fellow, had also a long neck, like a rope. Stretching it out, with his body leaning far over the wall, he could see what was coming. But his father, the duke, would not yet believe there was any danger. [[219]]

So Rinaldo got the horse Bayard, with the family saddle cleaned up, and all ready to escape. He vowed to keep up the war, even if his father was taken prisoner.

This was just what happened. Even when the enemy lighted the fires, at sundown, and the smoke rolled up over the ramparts, the old Duke stubbornly pooh-poohed the idea of any real danger.

But about midnight, a terrific noise, like a peal of thunder, was heard. Then one would have thought that the tail board of a cart, as large as a town hall, had been pulled out, and a million bricks were being dumped out. The walls slid down, the towers crashed over, and barns, storehouses, soldiers, horses, and engines of war were tumbled in one heap of rubbish into the valley.

Then Charlemagne’s host rushed in with sword and spear. The Duke Aymon was taken prisoner and sent to Aix-la-Chapelle.