They recoiled. Between the ends of the draw-bridges and the foot of the
rampart was some two fathoms' depth of black ooze. The catastrophe which
Hereward had foreseen was come, and a shout of derision arose from the
unseen defenders above.
"Come on,--leap it like men! Send back for your horses, knights, and ride
them at it like bold huntsmen!"
The front rank could not but rush on: for the pressure behind forced them
forward, whether they would or not. In a moment they were wallowing waist
deep, trampled on, and disappearing under their struggling comrades, who
disappeared in their turn.
"Look, Torfrida! If they plant their scaling ladders, it will be on a
foundation of their comrades' corpses."
Torfrida gave one glance through the openings of the hoarding, upon the
writhing mass below, and turned away in horror. The men were not so
merciful. Down between the hoarding-beams rained stones, javelins, arrows,
increasing the agony and death. The scaling ladders would not stand in the
mire. If they had stood a moment, the struggles of the dying would have
thrown them down; and still fresh victims pressed on from behind, shouting
"Dex Aie! On to the gold of Ely!" And still the sow, under the weight,
slipped further and further back into the stream, and the foul gulf
widened between besiegers and besieged.
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