Another attack;—this time, however, in a different direction: the great gate of St. Anthony was assaulted by a picked corps of mamelukes; but there, too, they were met by the Hospitallers and the Templars, with the two grand masters at their head. These brave men seemed to be in all parts of the town at one and the same time, and their presence animated their followers to prodigies of valour. Alas! their valour availed but little, and at most could but gain a brief delay; fresh enemies swarmed in the place of those who fell, while every loss on the part of the Christians was irreparable, and their numbers were reduced to a scanty handful. Sir John de Villiers was already badly wounded, when the master of the Templars thus addressed him: “The town is lost, as things now stand,” he said; “you must try a sortie that will draw them off awhile, and give us time to complete some fresh defences.” Villiers, wounded as he was, did his best to carry out this order, and gathering together all his men who were yet able to mount, he rode out to the enemy’s camp, his whole body not consisting of above 500 in number. Bravely did the little company fall on the Saracen host, which they thought to take by surprise; but they were met by all the cavalry of the sultan, and after a desperate struggle, re-entered the town with half their number missing. Bad news, too, met them on their return; Beaujeu had been struck, as it was feared, by a poisoned arrow, and half the town was already in possession of the enemy; with daylight they could look for nothing but one last death-struggle, and the loss of all; and a council of the surviving knights of the three orders was hastily summoned, together with certain of the citizens and the gallant old patriarch of Jerusalem, who, though he might long since have secured his safety by flight, had chosen to remain to encourage his children by his presence. There was indeed little to debate, for all were of one mind; they knew well enough that they had only to choose between death and flight,—but of the last they never thought; the port was indeed open, and there was yet time; but Acre was all Palestine to its defenders, and each one felt that to die on its battlements was to die in the cause of Christ. For such a death they therefore prepared as became the cross they wore; the holy sacrifice was offered, and each one received what to far the greater number was the last viaticum; they gave the kiss of peace each one to his neighbour, old grudges were made up where any existed, and those who had lived in jealousy or enmity shook one another by the hand, and swore to stand together and die as friends.