CHAPTER XV

The Struggle at the Breach

LEAVING two hundred men to guard the gateway in case the Baggaras should rally, Reeves hastened to the breach, whilst Hugh and Gerald were told off to see that the guns mounted on the walls were directed against the Arabs who were devoting their energies to this part of the fortifications. Bringing up the Krupp at this stage of the proceedings would be futile. The correspondent realized, in spite of the fact that he had already loaded and trained the piece, that the manipulation of the time fuses of the shells was for the present beyond him; he must rest content in the knowledge that the enemy could no longer gall the city with impunity. There was still danger, however, and every available man was required to defend the ominous gap in the walls.

By the glare of the enormous wood fires, that had been lighted upon the battlements, Reeves could form some idea of what was going on. Already the Arabs, with their customary fanatical zeal, were throwing themselves upon the knights and archers, who, led by Sir Jehan in person, were performing prodigious acts of valour.

Slowly, yet surely, the Croixilians were being driven back. The knights, hampered for want of sword room, were gripped by the ankles by their ferocious foes, who did not hesitate to toss the bodies of their fellow-tribesmen upon the lanceheads of their mail-clad opponents. The archers, unable to loose their shafts for fear of hitting friend as well as foe in the mêlée, could only join in the conflict with their swords and spears. Groans, curses, and cries of pain, triumph, and dismay rose on the night air, mingling with the sharp clash of steel, or the dull swish of swordcut falling upon hide shield or human flesh.

Drawing his pistol, Reeves forced his way between the ranks of the men who fringed the scene of conflict. Ten shots he fired, quickly, yet deliberately. None missed its mark. This temporarily cleared a path for Sir Jehan and his hauberk-clad men, and the tide of battle changed. Fighting with a superb courage, that even the Croixilians could not help admiring, the foremost of the Arabs were forced back till they were stopped by the press of those behind. Then, with a gigantic spring, the Moslems charged again, and the ebb of the fortunes of Croixilia began once more.

Having discharged his automatic weapon, Reeves discreetly slipped out of the throng, retired to a safe distance, and thrust ten more precious cartridges into the magazine.

"What's up with those guns?" he muttered impatiently, for on either side of the breach he could see the walls black with the soldiers of Croixilia. "Hang 'em! Why don't they open fire?"

But he soon saw that there was something to be done without asking questions, and once again he dashed into the press, checking the Arab rush as before.

"This won't do!" he exclaimed. "Twenty of my precious cartridges gone already, and no permanent good done! If the beggars press another attack as determined as this, it will be touch and go with us. Ugh, you brute!" This last to an apparently-wounded Baggara, who, leaping up from the ground flourishing a keen-bladed spear, rushed straight upon the practically unarmed Englishman.

Up went Reeves's pistol; but the son of the desert, once he is enjoying the lust of battle, cares not for a loaded firearm, let alone an empty one. Here was his chance to send an unbeliever on his path to the kingdom of Shaitan, and himself to an assured paradise.

Hurling his useless weapon at the Baggara, and missing his shock-haired head by an inch, Reeves threw himself into the approved boxing attitude. But ere the Arab's blade came within striking distance, a man threw himself bodily upon Reeves on his left or blind side. The Englishman, taken completely by surprise, staggered a good half-dozen paces, and finally, tripping over a dead archer, sat half-dazed upon the ground.

Even as he sat there he saw a great blade flash in the torchlight, and the Baggara, his hide shield and muscular chest shorn through by a single blow, fell lifeless.

"You could be ill spared, my brother," shouted a well-known voice, as Garth stooped and grasped the Englishman by the hand.

"Thanks!" replied Reeves shortly but nevertheless gratefully; and recovering and reloading his pistol he followed his comrade-in-arms once more into the fray.

Suddenly, with a terrific, ear-splitting detonation, two guns upon the wall sent their death-dealing charges of grapeshot into the thickest of the Arab assailants. The result was similar to that of a sharp scythe cutting wheat, and a double line appeared in the compact, howling, surging press. With redoubled shouts of encouragement and triumph the Croixilians swept away those of their foes who were immediately opposed to them, and before the discomfited Arabs on the outer side of the sloping bank of stone rubble could rally, they too were forced back across the choked moat. Now there was room for the archers, and from the walls, the houses behind the breach, and the deadly gap itself flights of arrows sped into the Moslem ranks. Once again the guns, reloaded with desperate haste, added to the carnage. This was more than fanatical courage could stand; the repulse became a disorderly retreat.

Many of the Croixilian knights besought Sir Jehan to let them lead the cavalry in pursuit, but to their entreaties he turned a deaf ear. Enough lives had been lost already, although not thrown away, and he knew the risk of following a fierce and wily foe too far into the open country.

But, though the attack had been beaten off, there was no rest that night for the harried and wearied defenders. Knights, commoners, and serfs all worked with a will, clearing the moat and piling up the dislodged masonry so as to form an efficient breastwork should daylight bring with it another desperate onslaught.

With the dawn the magnitude of the sanguinary conflict became visible. Within and without the breach the ground was covered with corpses, many lying in ghastly heaps. Outside the gate, which the Arabs all but succeeded in carrying, the carnage had been almost as great; while in the direction of the main Arab encampment a long line of dead men and horses showed how stubbornly the gallant five hundred Croixilian horse had fought in the endeavour to regain the city.

Perhaps the strangest view of all was that of the site of the hostile camp. Every tent had vanished, and only the sinister line of trenches and more still and silent bodies marked the former position of the foiled invaders. They had taken the opportunity afforded by the few remaining hours of darkness to strike their tents and beat a retreat eastwards.

It was the same with the other encampments. The Arabs, disheartened by their losses, had once more fallen back from before the walls of the city that for centuries had defied their efforts.

"Whatever have you been up to, Gerald?" asked Reeves, as the two lads, powder-blackened, dog-tired, yet wild with delight, rejoined their comrade. Almost all the hair from young Kirby's face and head had been scorched off: his eyebrows were marked only by a few frizzled hairs, while his pate was as bald as a monk's.

"It's a wonder he wasn't blinded," said Hugh. "One of the guns apparently missed fire, and as he was placing fresh powder in the touchhole the stuff went off."

"It's nothing," replied Gerald. "We both managed to get one home at the same time."

"Lucky for us you did," growled Reeves approvingly; "but you were a precious long time about it."

"Couldn't do it quicker," replied Hugh inconsequently. "We had to push half a dozen of the niggers off the wall--not us alone, of course. Look here!" and the correspondent noticed for the first time that Hugh's right leg was bound round with a strip of linen.

"Oh, it's nothing!" the latter continued cheerfully; "only a slight cut from a knife--at least I think it was."

"And the Arabs were already on the wall?" asked Reeves, in astonishment. "Rather! They were trying to swing the guns round when we came up."

The correspondent said no more. He now realized how near to success the Arabs had been. Had those two guns been turned upon the defenders it would have been "all up". It was owing solely to the initiative displayed by his two youthful comrades that the green banner of the Prophet was not floating over the Mound of Pharamond, and the city in the hands of the Mohammedans.

After a hasty meal and a bath the three Englishmen were ready to accompany Sir Jehan to the site of the Moslem camp. The tents had been struck with great haste, as was made apparent by the articles left lying about in all directions; but everyone's attention was drawn to the silent story told by the wedge-shaped mass of dead bodies representing the gallant Croixilian cavalry and their formidable and far more numerous foes. The line of the fierce charge was clearly defined till it reached almost the centre of the camp, where the tent of the Moslem commander-in-chief had been pitched. Here the bodies of the hauberk-clad knights lay thickest, yet in a very small compass; and right in the forefront, with no less than seven honourable wounds, was the corpse of Sir Oliver Fayne. By the few survivors of the desperate enterprise it was told that the gallant knight had pledged his word to reach the Arab commander's tent or fall in the attempt, and indeed he had all but carried out the first part of his vow.

While Sir Jehan was gazing mournfully yet proudly upon the scene of this achievement, three mounted men, with loose rein and hot spur, came with the news that the retiring host had already placed five leagues betwixt them and the city, and that there were no signs of their rallying.

"That is indeed good news," exclaimed Sir Jehan. "We are safe from assault for some years to come, I hope."

"I shouldn't care to take that for granted," observed Reeves. "Even now their retreat may be a skilfully-planned ruse. Are there any more of our men following them up?"

"It is not necessary," replied Sir Jehan. "They have vanished from our territory for good and all. I ought----"

The ruler of Croixilia's words were interrupted by a crashing volley, delivered at less than a hundred yards' distance. Hugh's horse sank on its knees and flung its rider in the dust, while Reeves felt a bullet plough through his hair.

"Dismount and take cover," he shouted, and even as he was in the act of throwing himself out of the saddle he saw Sir Jehan leaning over the neck of his charger. Ere the correspondent or any of those around him could rush to the knight's assistance, the head of the Croixilians fell to the earth with a thud. Quickly Reeves turned him over. One look was enough. Sir Jehan de Valx was dead. Two shots had struck him, one passing through the temples, the other slightly above the heart.

But there was no time for grief. Springing from the cover of a shallow trench, above which the smoke of the volley still rose idly in the calm air, there came a body of at least thirty Arabs, who, with brandished weapons and loud shouts of fierce joy, bounded swiftly towards the astonished Croixilians and their English comrades.

The surprise was complete.