ey essayed to escape to their ships.

And thus once more I found myself by Hugo's side, prepared for sharp
fighting.

"See, Nigel," whispered he, as he stood fuming and craving to be himself
in the thick of the fighting that soon must chance. "Yonder tree shoots
up clean and straight, and, as I fancy, there is clear vision downward
to the Castle, and an easy drop and scamper hither again at the signal."

"Let us mount," I said.

So, careless of rules of war and obedience, like two school-lads we
swarmed up the smooth trunk, and sat soon in the joinings of the
branches. Thence could we see, so far as leaves allowed, the Sarrasin
camp within the walls of the chateau.

They were not to be taken by surprise. For a great array--far greater, I
thought, than came down to the Vale Castle--was collected on the green,
and being divided into companies, had charge of the engines of defence,
or tried the temper of their blades. And I saw others on the wall ready
to roll stones and hot pitch upon their assailants, as is the manner of
defending castles. And amid the companies stalked heavily the Grand
Geoffroy himself in full armour. Could any mistake that great form, and
not feel his presence amid those wild men of so many nations, that his
spirit alone united into one.

"Heigho!" thought I. "Ill knight that seest without being seen; now
without being seen we see thy camp and thee."

As I thought that, his great helm turned our way, and a strange shudder
took my limbs, as he seemed to look upward to our roost, and know us to
be there.

"He sees us," I said to Hugo.

"That were not possible with mortal eyes," said Hugo; "but even evil
beasts are oft aware of the near presence of their foes."

But he had soon to turn his eyes elsewhere, for the Norman assault came
sharp and swift, like the rush of great wild creatures through the
forest. Indeed it was a rare sight--that sweeping mass of chivalry that
seemed to reck naught of the walls, or the arrows, or the balls, or the
pitch that a hundred hands rained down on them. Over the wall they went,
and through the gate that withstood not their charge. O Heaven! they
were not men those Normans, they were storms and floods, they were fire
and mad waves of ocean, that scorn with wild gleefulness the granite
rock and scarped boulder!

I have seen the sea, swept in by a fierce north wind, so triumph over
man's poor defences. I have seen the mad fire catch hold of mart and
dwelling i