As quick as thought Ivanhoe was into the Count with a thrust in tierce,
which took him just at the joint of the armor, and ran him through as
clean as a spit does a partridge. Uttering a horrid shriek, he fell
back writhing; the King recovering staggered up the parapet; the rush
of knights followed, and the union-jack was planted triumphantly on the
walls, just as Ivanhoe,--but we must leave him for a moment.
"Ha, St. Richard!--ha, St. George!" the tremendous voice of the
Lion-king was heard over the loudest roar of the onset. At every sweep
of his blade a severed head flew over the parapet, a spouting trunk
tumbled, bleeding, on the flags of the bartizan. The world hath never
seen a warrior equal to that Lion-hearted Plantagenet, as he raged
over the keep, his eyes flashing fire through the bars of his morion,
snorting and chafing with the hot lust of battle. One by one les enfans
de Chalus had fallen; there was only one left at last of all the brave
race that had fought round the gallant Count:--only one, and but a boy,
a fair-haired boy, a blue-eyed boy! he had been gathering pansies in the
fields but yesterday--it was but a few years, and he was a baby in his
mother's arms! What could his puny sword do against the most redoubted
blade in Christendom?--and yet Bohemond faced the great champion of
England, and met him foot to foot! Turn away, turn away, my dear young
friends and kind-hearted ladies! Do not look at that ill-fated poor boy!
his blade is crushed into splinters under the axe of the conqueror, and
the poor child is beaten to his knee! .
Pages:
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467