er sounds:
the rain fell in torrents, and the watchers on the towers adjoining to
that of Phirouz could not hear the tramp of the armed knights for the
wind, nor see them for the obscurity of the night and the dismalness of
the weather. When within shot of the walls, Bohemund sent forward an
interpreter to confer with the Armenian. The latter urged them to make
haste, and seize the favourable interval, as armed men, with lighted
torches, patrolled the battlements every half hour, and at that instant
they had just passed. The chiefs were instantly at the foot of the wall:
Phirouz let down a rope; Bohemund attached it to the end of a ladder of
hides, which was then raised by the Armenian, and held while the knights
mounted. A momentary fear came over the spirits of the adventurers, and
every one hesitated. At last Bohemund,[8] encouraged by Phirouz from
above, ascended a few steps on the ladder, and was followed by Godfrey,
Count Robert of Flanders, and a number of other knights. As they advanced,
others pressed forward, until their weight became too great for the
ladder, which, breaking, precipitated about a dozen of them to the ground,
where they fell one upon the other, making a great clatter with their
heavy coats of mail. For a moment they thought that all was lost; but the
wind made so loud a howling as it swept in fierce gusts through the
mountain gorges--and the Orontes, swollen by the rain, rushed so noisily
along--that the guards heard nothing. The ladder was easily repaired, and
the knights ascended two at a time, and reached the platform in safety.
When sixty of them had thus ascended, the torch of the coming patrol was
seen to gleam at the angle of the wall. Hiding themselves behind a
buttress, they awaited his coming in breathless silence. As soon as he
arrived at arm's length, he was suddenly seized, and, before he could open
his lips to raise an alarm, the silence of death closed them up for ever.
They next descended rapidly the spiral staircase of the tower, and opening
the portal, admitted the whole of their companions. Raymond of Toulouse,
who, cognisant of the whole plan, had been left behind with the main body
of the army, heard at this instant the signal horn, which announced that
an entry had been effected, and, leading on his legions, the town was
attacked from within and without.

[8] Vide William of Tyre.

Imagination cannot conceive a scene more dreadful than that presented by
the devoted c