The Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett [112]
A moment later there was no one in the chapel but the three of them and an annoyed priest.
Tom took the children outside. Some people were releasing the horses to save them from harm, and others were drawing water from the well to throw on the flames. Tom could not see Ellen. The freed horses charged around the compound, terrified by the fire and the running, shouting people. The drumming of hooves was tremendous. Tom listened hard for a moment, and frowned: it was really too tremendous—it sounded more like a hundred horses than twenty or thirty. Suddenly he was struck by a frightening apprehension. “Stay right here for a moment, Martha,” he said. “Alfred, you look after her.” He ran up the embankment to the top of the ramparts. It was a steep slope, and he had to slow down before he reached the top. At the summit, breathing hard, he looked out.
His apprehension had been right, and now his heart was seized in the cold grip of fear. An army of horsemen, eighty to a hundred strong, was charging across the brown fields toward the castle. It was a fearsome sight. Tom could see the metallic glint of their chain mail and their drawn swords. The horses were galloping flat out, and a fog of warm breath rose from their nostrils. The riders were hunched in their saddles, grimly purposeful. There was no yelling and screaming, just the deafening thunder of hundreds of pounding hooves.
Tom looked back into the castle compound. Why could nobody else hear the army? Because the sound of the hooves was muffled by the castle walls and merged with the noise of panic in the compound. Why had the sentries seen nothing? Because they had all left their posts to fight the fire. This attack had been masterminded by someone clever. Now it was up to Tom to give the alarm.
And where was Ellen?
His eyes raked the compound as the attackers pounded nearer. Much of it was obscured by thick white smoke from the burning stables. He could not see Ellen.
He spotted Earl Bartholomew, beside the well, trying to organize the carrying of water to the fire. Tom ran down the embankment and rushed across the compound to the well. He grabbed the earl’s shoulder, none too gently, and yelled in his ear to make himself heard above the din. “It’s an attack!”
“What?”
“We’re being attacked!”
The earl was thinking about the fire. “Attacked? Who by?”
“Listen!” Tom yelled. “A hundred horses!”
The earl cocked his head. Tom watched as realization dawned on the pale, aristocratic face. “You’re right—by the cross!” He suddenly looked afraid. “Have you seen them?”
“Yes.”
“Who—Never mind who! A hundred horses?”
“Yes—”
“Peter! Ralph!” The earl turned from Tom and summoned his lieutenants. “It’s a raid—this fire is a diversion—we’re under attack!” Like the earl, they were at first uncomprehending, then they listened, and finally they showed fear. The earl yelled: “Tell the men to get their swords—hurry, hurry!” He turned back to Tom. “Come with me, stonemason—you’re strong, we can close the gates.” He ran off across the compound and Tom followed him. If they could close the gates and raise the drawbridge in time, they could hold off a hundred men.
They reached the gatehouse. They could see the army through the arch. It was less than a mile away now, and spreading out, Tom observed, the faster horses in front and the stragglers behind. “Look at the gates!” the earl yelled.
Tom looked. The two great iron-banded oak gates lay flat on the ground. Their hinges had been chiseled out of the wall, he could see. Some of the enemy had been here earlier, he thought. His stomach churned with fear.
He looked back into the compound, still searching for Ellen. He could not see her. What had become of her? Anything could happen now. He needed to be with her and protect her.
“The drawbridge!” said the earl.
The best way to protect Ellen was to keep the attackers out, Tom realized. The earl ran up the spiral staircase that led to the winding room, and with an effort Tom made himself follow.