The warlike Earl was daily weakening the walls by the resolute action of his engines. He had machines almost unknown as yet in England, and gave the besieged little rest night or day. But for all that the solid walls still defied him, and the idea of assault was too perilous even for the courage of the fearless De Montfort. He must not risk a second repulse, lest the spirit of his soldiers should give way. He must not attempt anything till success was assured. But Jack's stratagem was destined to prove a complete success. Accompanied only by Leofric, in a light boat towed behind, the bold young soldier guided his phantom craft up the mouth of the river upon a dark, moonless night. By this time he had learned the river by heart, and had no difficulty in quietly grounding the vessel against the bridge. Then silently setting light to her fiery contents, he slipped overboard to Leofric, and the two cast off, and rowed with muffled oars to the appointed landing-place, where their friends awaited them. Long before they reached it the whole sky was in a glow, and they even caught glimpses of hurrying throngs of people, all hastening to the scene of the conflagration. That the whole town was in an uproar of confusion they could tell even from a long distance. And Jack sang aloud and cheered lustily in the joy and triumph of his heart. But a greater triumph was in store for the comrades when they finally reached shore, and were brought by their companions into the lines once more. The stratagem had been completely successful; the people had all rushed down to the scene of the fire, even the soldiers quitting their posts to assist. De Montfort, with a picked body of men, had made a grand assault where the walls near to the gate had become greatly weakened. Wall and gate had alike given way with a crash, and the besieging army had streamed in in triumph. Rochester had fallen into the hands of the Barons! CHAPTER XXIII. _ON THE FIELD OF LEWES._ They stood looking down upon the green plains and the venerable Priory of Lewes. The cup-like hollow presented a strange appearance, being dotted over with tents, and filled with armed men, moving hither and thither like human ants, intent upon some important task. Within the walls of the Priory the King was lodged, with his brother, his son, and his counsellors. The little knot of youths, stationed upon the knoll that commanded a view of these things, had their eyes fixed upon a small party of riders who were moving forward towards the Priory, carrying a white flag before them. A nearer view would have told an observer that two of this party were ecclesiastics in their robes of office, being in fact none other than the Bishops of London and Worcester; but those spectators on the knoll did not need the evidence of eyesight to tell them that. They were well aware of the embassy of the Bishops, and of the import of the message they bore.