Count's men were less superstitious. They had seen that, horrible as was the sight and shock of the outburst, great as was the power displayed, it had done not much more damage than often resulted from a stroke of a great battering-ram, and so they recovered themselves more quickly.
The Count, too, aided them to recover their courage, for he was more enraged than hurt by his fall, and his anger was greater than his fear. In a moment he sprang to his feet, waved his sword above his head, and shouting out his battle-cry, led his men forward to the very edge of the broken wall. Nor did he pause there, but plunged down over the fallen, tottering stones, and began to clamber up the other side.
Under such leadership all men are brave; and first one, then another, and at last all the survivors followed him, echoing his cry. Some shouted also, "Death to the Sorcerer!" and rushed forward with renewed courage. The Count, taking a heavy ax from one of his men, dealt resounding blows against the timbers of the door. His example was followed, and in a very few minutes the tough oak planks were penetrated, and it was not long before the bolts were drawn, and the bold besiegers were within the tower—the second they had captured that night.
The garrison during this interval had destroyed
