CHAPTER XVIII.

The story of the relief of _Vale Castle_.

Now, by the ending of our battle before L'Ancresse Bay, the sun was setting, and for fear of some attack on us as we disembarked, Samson d'Anville thought it better that, though well in sight of Vale Castle, that already had lit beacons of joy upon its towers, we should drop anchor for the night in L'Ancresse Bay.

This we did, and there was much business in our fleet in the repairing of the damage of the fight. When the tale was made up, but forty men-at-arms had been lost with some sixty more who had sore damage, and two of our ships were so disabled that we left them to float upon the rocks.

From the prow, where I lay down to sleep, I thought of the joy in the hearts of our brethren and the abbot, and "Oh, Brother Hugo!" I thought, "now, by God's grace, have I well-nigh fulfilled the task thou gavest me;" and then sleep drew my eyelids tight, and with no alarm of sea or enemy, I slept until the morning.

Now, the day that followed has ever been the brightest and the gladdest of my memories as I have trodden the path of my life. For on that day by Samson's side I entered Vale gate in very sooth the deliverer of my friends.

I remember not in what manner that goodly army was disembarked, but well I know, through the long space it took, my heart burned to be away. But all was done in the due order of war, for Samson greatly feared an ambush of the Sarrasins in rocky spaces betwixt us and the Castle. And good companies of men were left in a little camp, hastily thrown up by the shore, lest there should be a mishap upon our march.

But at length the men-at-arms were drawn up in order of march, and every man sent forward gave word that no sign of Sarrasin could be seen in the Vale. So, steadily, with the great standard of the two lions unrolled, we marched across the common, and soon the great mass of Vale Castle, on its seat of rock, towered up before us, and along the rampart we saw gathered the defenders, like saints of heaven, welcoming us as we came. And the women, so long pent up with anxious minds therein, waved their light kerchiefs, and wept for very joy at the sound of the soldier's tramp shaking the plain. And along the wall, as at a set signal, when we passed the black ruin of the old cloister and church, uprose the deep sound of men's singing, and we heard the goodly round Latin tongue roll its heavy cadence o'er our heads--"Magnificat anima mea Dominum"--ay, magnificat of praise and glory, as greeting this deliverance wrought by the most Holy One, and the downfall of Satan's power. And ever, when they sing that hymn of blessed Mary, I seem again to be a-marching with all the triumph of a noble lad in the successful doings of his first great enterprise over the wind-swept grass of the Vale up to the Castle gate--marching with a great army, that knows naught of sin and guile, full-stedfast and full-faithful through all its sunny ranks.

Then, without let or hindrance, we stood before the gate, and once more the great bolts shot back, the mighty bars clanged as they moved, and the huge gate swung heavily on its massy hinges, and the advance guard sweeping on one side, left the way free for Samson and myself to enter.

Could I enter in such stately wise with trumpet-blare and step of dignity into that place on that day as a young prince or saviour from afar? Nay, here were the very stones I had played upon through all my boyhood, and around me stood the good nurses and governors of my early years. It was no place for me to enter in this pomp. Nor were these simple monks the men for me to come back to so ceremoniously.

I stood for a moment by Samson's side in hesitation. Then, seeing Hugo and the abbot, I forgot the army and Samson and my place, and ran straight forward, like a babe to his mother, and in a moment had mine arms around the neck of my father-in-arms, Brother Hugo of the Vale. Then, when he stayed me, and unclasped my hands, that were like to choke him, so joyously they hugged, down went I on one knee and kissed the hand of Abbot Michael, that stood by his side. He, courteously raising me, said simply--

"Thou hast done well, good child. And glad are we that our woes are over. But who is yonder gentleman?"

Then I led up Samson to him, and made them known, and a fair scene of courtesy it was to see Samson in his chain-mail kneel and take the abbot's hand so thin and delicate in his own rough palm.

"Ye come like angels from above, good gentlemen," said Michael; "for, with all sparing and restraint, our cruse is now full low, our store consumed, and, with diminished strength, there was small hope to rebut the next attack."

"No angels, holy Father," answered Samson, smiling; "but stalwart fellows in plenty, with a strong stroke and a high spirit. Normans, in brief, that know well how to carry through a matter such as this. But how oft have they attempted an attack?"

"Our general shall inform thee best," said the abbot, "this good brother, whose clear head and strong courage have saved us not once nor twice; and, indeed, most good it is that two such men as thou and he should meet."

With that he led Brother Hugo to Samson, and the two brave warriors did embrace with all due show of courtesy.

"Thrice, now, have they engaged to storm our wall," said Hugo, "and, while strength remained, we feared not to throw back to their sore damage such attacks. But three nights back we were in extremer case, for the rogues entered by a cunning mine the citadel itself, and but for swift action on our part they had got through in force, and overpowered the garrison. But, by God's favour, we were aroused in time, and with a great scuffle drave them back, and with small loss to ourselves slew a score or more, and so at morn destroyed and blocked the mine; and even this night we feared a like attack, had you not brought this great army from my lord the duke to destroy for ever the Sarrasin's arrogance."

Then they took counsel of the resources of their arms; and, indeed, with the islanders that were with us already, and that now came flocking, being afeared to come before (as there are such in every cause), we mustered an exceeding great host, and after the ravages the Sarrasin had made, we had even now fear of famine till corn could come in by sea. And the Normans, since the Castle was too strait for all already, lay encamped in a fair camp by the waterside by St. Sampson's Bay, till their leader should ordain the order of attack.

Now all was changed in Vale and hill country, for the Moors that so long had roamed at will, setting their watches and their sentinels on every headland and navigable inlet, and claiming to be of right the liege lords of all from Blanchelande to Torteval, from Torteval to Vale, were now shut up in their great château, and their fleets lying in Grand Havre and Moulin Huet Bay. No longer able to be besiegers, they had become besieged, and indeed, if they knew all, were already in extreme case. We saw none of their vile faces in lane or forest-path. The narrow street of St. Pierre Port was cleared of the swaggerers, with their clanking metal and heady brawls; while our Normans lay by St. Sampson's shrine waiting the order to attack, they sat quiet and sullen in their hold.

And in this sullen calm there was much to fear.