Already, severe fighting was going on, in the open space between the tower and the walls. On both sides bolts and arrows flew unceasingly, and wherever a head appeared at a loophole it became a target for the archers. Germans and Milanese had both suffered severely, for the arrows and stones penetrated through every opening. "Those Milanese fight very gallantly," said Henry the Lion, as an arrow struck his helmet. "We have already lost fifty men in the tower." "The foul fiend seize this style of battle!" said Otho of Wittelsbach, who awaited, with impatience, the moment when the tower should close upon the walls. "We shall encounter worthy adversaries, Count," replied Henry. "They are loading their engines in our honor!--I only trust that the fire may not ruin the tower! The Milanese are skilful artificers." "Upon my honor, as soon as we are on their walls, they may burn it and welcome," said Otho. The scene soon began to change; the Milanese had covered their ramparts with boiling pitch, and had lighted a fire at the spot where Henry designed to halt the tower, while barrels filled with burning tow were rolled over on the heads of the assailants. "Forward now!" cried Anselmo. "Get ready the fireballs!" and he rushed to where the smaller machines were raining a cloud of projectiles upon the drawbridges. The battle now raged fiercely. The burning tow balls had communicated their fire to the machine, the top of which was in flames; the Germans worked diligently to keep the conflagration in check, until they should be close enough to sally out upon the bridges, while the Milanese with locked shields and drawn swords awaited the attack. For a moment there was a deathlike silence, and then the bridges fell, and Henry of Saxony and Otho de Wittelsbach, followed by their troops in good order, sprang upon the ramparts. They were resolutely met. Otho had one foot upon the wall, but he was driven back; and though his blows made large gaps in the ranks of the enemy in this fierce hand-to-hand encounter, their places were filled at once with new combatants. The Lion raged, and although a foeman went down at every thrust of his heavy sword, he was still upon the bridge, and could not advance a step upon the rampart. The tower was now in flames, and a cloud of projectiles darkened the air already black with smoke from the burning resin. Still the struggle went on, and many a German knight and Lombard noble fell to rise no more. Henry and Otho fought on; but in vain: their efforts were powerless to break the wall of steel which the brave Milanese opposed to their assailants. So far, the combat had continued without any decided advantage; for, although they could hold their enemy in check, the citizens were unable to drive him from his position. The image of their patron saint waved proudly above them, and the cry of "Saint Ambrose to the rescue!" rang through the air. In the midst of the tumult were heard shouts of defiance and of cheer.