France -- History -- Francis I, 1515-1547 -- Fiction
Jacques ran to the river, filled his helmet with water, and took it to
the German. He leaned his beam against the wall, swallowed at a draught
all that the helmet contained, and handed it back to the student empty.
"Thanks," he said, and, taking up the beam once more, he resumed his
work.
An instant later he said, "Go and tell the master to be in readiness,
for we are getting on famously here."
Jacques Aubry started for the tower, and in a very few moments he stood
between Ascanio and Benvenuto, who were keeping up such a brisk and
effective fire that they had already shot down two or three men, and the
provost's archers were beginning to' think twice before showing
themselves upon the walls.
Meanwhile, as Hermann had sent word to Benvenuto, the door was beginning
to yield, and the provost resolved to make one last effort; he cheered
on his men to such good purpose that the stones began to rain down once
more. But two or three arquebus shots speedily calmed anew the ardor of
the besieged, who, despite all Messire Robert's promises and
remonstrances, coyly remained out of range. Thereupon Messire Robert
himself appeared, alone, carrying in his hands an enormous stone, and
made ready to hurl it down upon Hermann's head.
But Benvenuto was not the man to allow his retainer to be taken by
surprise. As soon as he caught sight of the provost rashly venturing
where no one else ventured to go, he put his weapon to his shoulder; it
would have been all up with Messire Robert, had not Ascanio, just as
Cellini pulled the trigger, thrown up the barrel with a quick motion of
his hand accompanied by a sharp exclamation, so that the bullet whistled
harmlessly through the air. Ascanio had recognized Colombe's father.
As Benvenuto turned furiously upon him to demand an explanation, the
stone, thrown with all the force the provost could impart to it, fell
full upon Hermann's helmet. Even the enormous strength of the modern
Titan was not equal to the task of sustaining such a blow; he relaxed
his hold of the timber, threw out his arms as if seeking something to
cling to, and, finding nothing within reach, fell to the ground
unconscious, with a terrible crash.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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