Many lords of note followed
the King and bore the ladders; and as they were placed against the wall,
the air was perfectly dark with the shower of arrows which the French
archers poured out at the besiegers, and the cataract of stones,
kettles, bootjacks, chests of drawers, crockery, umbrellas,
congreve-rockets, bombshells, bolts and arrows and other missiles
which the desperate garrison flung out on the storming-party. The King
received a copper coal-scuttle right over his eyes, and a mahogany
wardrobe was discharged at his morion, which would have felled an
ox, and would have done for the King had not Ivanhoe warded it off
skilfully. Still they advanced, the warriors falling around them like
grass beneath the scythe of the mower.
The ladders were placed in spite of the hail of death raining round: the
King and Ivanhoe were, of course, the first to mount them. Chalus stood
in the breach, borrowing strength from despair; and roaring out, "Ha!
Plantagenet, St. Barbacue for Chalus!" he dealt the King a crack across
the helmet with his battle-axe, which shore off the gilt lion and
crown that surmounted the steel cap. The King bent and reeled back; the
besiegers were dismayed; the garrison and the Count of Chalus set up a
shout of triumph: but it was premature.
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