Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. St. George for England by G. A. Henty (top 10 non fiction books of all time txt) 📖
- Author: G. A. Henty
Book online «St. George for England by G. A. Henty (top 10 non fiction books of all time txt) 📖». Author G. A. Henty
Some of Sir Walter's men formed part of the garrison of Vannes, and among these was Sir John Powis with a hundred men-at-arms.
The knight had been so pleased with Walter's coolness and courage at the siege at Hennebon that he requested Sir Walter to leave him with him at Vannes. “It is possible,” he said to Walter, “that we may have fighting here. Methinks that Sir Walter would have done better to leave a stronger force. The town is a large one, and the inhabitants ill-disposed towards us. Oliver Clisson and the French nobles will feel their honour wounded at the way in which we outwitted them, and will likely enough make an effort to regain the town. However, Rennes and Hennebon are not far away, and we may look for speedy aid from the Earl of Salisbury and Sir Walter should occasion arise.”
Sir John's previsions were speedily verified. Oliver Clisson and his friends were determined to wipe out their defeat, and scattered through the country raising volunteers from among the soldiery in all the neighbouring towns and castles, and a month after Vannes was taken they suddenly appeared before the town with an army of 12,000 men, commanded by Beaumanoir, marshal of Bretagne for Charles of Blois. The same reasons which had induced the Earl of Northampton to decide upon a speedy assault instead of the slow process of breaching the walls, actuated the French in pursuing the same course, and, divided into a number of storming parties, the army advanced at once to the assault on the walls. The little garrison prepared for the defence.
“The outlook is bad, Walter,” Sir John Powis said. “These men approach with an air of resolution which shows that they are bent upon success. They outnumber us by twelve to one, and it is likely enough that the citizens may rise and attack us in the rear. They have been ordered to bring the stones for the machines to the walls, but no one has laid his hand to the work. We must do our duty as brave men, my lad, but I doubt me if yonder is not the last sun which we shall see. Furious as the French are at our recent success here you may be sure that little quarter will given.”
CHAPTER X: A PLACE OF REFUGE
The French, excited to the utmost by the exhortations of their commanders, and by their desire to wipe out the disgrace of the easy capture of Vannes by the English, advanced with ardour to the assault, and officers and men vied with each other in the valour which they displayed. In vain did the garrison shower arrows and cross-bow bolts among them, and pour down burning oil and quicklime upon them as they thronged at the foot of the wall. In vain were the ladders, time after time, hurled back loaded with men upon the mass below. The efforts of the men-at-arms to scale the defences were seconded by their archers and crossbow-men, who shot such a storm of bolts that great numbers of the defenders were killed. The assault was made at a score of different points, and the garrison was too weak to defend all with success. Sir John Powis and his party repulsed over and over again the efforts of the assailants against that part of the wall entrusted to them, but at other points the French gained a footing, and swarming up rushed along the walls, slaying all whom they encountered.
“All is lost,” Sir John exclaimed; “let us fall back to the castle and die fighting there.”
Descending from the wall the party made their way through the streets. The French were already in the town; every house was closed and barred, and from the upper windows the burghers hurled down stones and bricks upon the fugitives, while parties of the French soldiers fell upon them fiercely. Many threw down their arms and cried for quarter, but were instantly slain.
For a while the streets were a scene of wild confusion; here and there little knots of Englishmen stood together and defended themselves until the last, others ran through the streets chased by their exulting foes, some tried in vain to gain shelter in the houses. Sir John Powis's band was soon broken and scattered, and their leader slain by a heavy stone from a housetop. Walter fought his way blindly forward towards the castle although he well knew that no refuge would be found there. Ralph Smith kept close beside him, levelling many of his assailants with the tremendous blows of a huge mace. Somehow, Walter hardly knew how, they made their way through their assailants and dashed in at the castle gate. A crowd of their assailants were close upon their heels. Walter glanced round; dashing across the courtyard he ran through some passages into an inner yard, in which, as he knew, was the well. The bucket hung at the windlass.
“Catch hold, Ralph!” he exclaimed; “there is just a chance, and we may as well be drowned as killed.” They grasped the rope and jumped off. The bucket began to descend with frightful velocity. Faster and faster it went and yet it seemed a long time before they plunged into the water, which was nigh a hundred feet below the surface. Fortunately the rope was considerably longer than was necessary, and they sank many feet into the water, still retaining their hold. Then clinging to the rope they hauled themselves to the surface.
“We cannot hold on here five minutes,” Ralph exclaimed, “my armour is dragging me down.”
“We will soon get rid of that,” Walter said.
“There go our helmets; now I will hold on with one hand and help you to unbuckle your breast and back pieces; you do the same for me.”
With great efforts they managed to rid themselves of their armour, and then held on with ease to the rope. They hauled the bucket to the surface and tied a knot in the slack of the rope, so that the bucket hung four feet below the level of the water. Putting their feet in this, they were able to stand with their heads above the surface without difficulty.
“This is a nice fix,” Ralph exclaimed. “I think it would have been just as well to have been killed at once. They are sure to find us here, and if they don't we shall die of cold before tomorrow morning.”
“I don't think they will find us,” Walter said cheerfully. “When they have searched the castle thoroughly it may occur to some of them that we have jumped down the well, but it will be no particular business of anyone to look for us, and they will all be too anxious to get at the wine butts to trouble their heads about the matter; besides, it must be a heavy job to wind up this bucket, and it is not likely there will be such urgent need of water that anyone will undertake the task.”
“But we are no better off if they don't,” Ralph remarked, “for we must die here if we are not hauled out. I suppose you don't intend to try and climb that rope. I might do twenty feet or so on a pinch, but I could no more
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