m on the farther bank of the moat. "Run!"
she said. "Run for your life; there's death behind!"

He obeyed, but Emlyn turned and screamed, till, hearing her through the
gale, all the guard hurried up the towers, flashing lanterns, to see
what passed.

"STORM! STORM!" she cried. "UP WITH THE LADDERS! FOR THE KIND AND
HARFLETE! STORM! STORM!"

Then she too turned and fled.

CHAPTER XVIII

OUT OF THE SHADOWS

Through the black night sudden and red there shot a sheet of fire
illumining all things as lightning does. Above the roaring of the gale
there echoed a dull and heavy noise like to that of muffled thunder.
Then after a moment's pause and silence the sky rained stones, and with
them the limbs of men.

"The gateway's gone," shouted a great voice, it was that of Bolle. "Out
with the ladders!"

Men who were waiting ran up with them and thrust them, four in all,
athwart the moat. By the planks that were lashed along their staves
they scrambled across and over the piles of shattered masonry into the
courtyard beyond where none waited them, for all who watched here were
dead or maimed.

"Light the lanterns," shouted Bolle again, "for it will be dark in
yonder," and a man who followed with a torch obeyed him.

Then they rushed across the courtyard to the door of the refectory,
which stood open. Here in the wide, high-roofed hall they met the mass
of Maldon's people pouring back from the faggoted breach, where they had
been gathered, expecting attack, some of them also bearing lanterns. For
a moment the two parties stood staring at each other; then followed
a wild and savage scene. With shouts and oaths and battle-cries they
fought furiously. The massive, oaken tables were overthrown, by the red
flicker of the pole-borne lanterns men grappled and fell and slew
each other upon the floor. A priest struck down a yeoman with a brazen
crucifix, and next moment himself was brained with its broken shaft.

"For God and Grace!" shouted some; "For the King and Harflete!" answered
others.

"Keep line! Keep line!" roared Bolle, "and sweep them out."

The lanterns were dashed down and extinguished till but one remained,
a red and wavering star. Hoarse voices shouted for light, for none knew
friend from foe. It came; some one had fired the tapestries and the
blaze ran up them to the roof. Then fearing lest they should be roasted,
the Abbot's folk gave way and fled to the farther door, followed by
their foes. Here it was