Annals of a FortressViollet-le-Duc, Eugène-Emmanuel
History
Annals of a Fortress
Viollet-le-Duc, Eugène-Emmanuel
Fortification -- France -- History; Fortification -- History; Siege warfare -- History
A great number entered pell-mell into the triangular space formed by the
stakes. It became the scene of an indescribable _mêlée_; those who were
defending the wattling which closed the breach dared not make any
openings for their brethren-in-arms whom they saw engaged with the
enemy. The Brenn struck into the midst of the crowd trying to rally his
men. He succeeded in cutting his way up to the wattling, against which
he leaned his back; and the warriors of the right detachment being
encouraged by his example, presented a head to the enemy, whose numbers,
however, continually augmented. A few minutes more and they would have
been swept down by the multitude of the assailants; the last comers were
urging on those in front of them, and the wattling and the warriors who
defended it would have been borne down by the tide. The Brenn, with his
long sword, was making a circle of dead and wounded around him. Then
shouting over the parapet to give the signal, the sound of trumpets
arose above the yells of the combatants. The enemy seemed to hesitate
for a moment; then, closing into a compact body, they rushed upon the
barricade, which gave way as if swept by a torrent.
At the same instant loud shouts were heard on each of the enemy's
flanks; the two troops in ambuscade attacked the confused column outside
the rampart....
The combat did not cease until daybreak. Those of the enemies who had
succeeded in penetrating into the Oppidum were killed or captured. The
triangle of broken stakes was strewn in every direction with the dead.
The enemy, disconcerted by the two simultaneous flank attacks, and
finding himself cut in two, was no longer able in the darkness to
concert an assault, and retired. Nevertheless, those who had been taken
in the outwork and at the gap of the Oppidum fought obstinately to the
last, and the captives who were driven before the Brenn were all more
less severely wounded.
Sigild was covered with blood and dirt; his great black horse had been
killed in the last _mêlée_, and he himself had been trampled on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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