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TREVALLYAN. 



These were the lust words the man ever uttered ; for the enemy at 

 that moment made a fierce onset on the eail's pai'ty, and he was tram- 

 pled to death under their feet. 



" Trevallyan and vengeance ! St. Michael for Trevallyan ! God and 

 St. Michael ! " shouted the earl as lie repelled the enemy's attack. 

 " What, Norfolk ! is it thou ?" he further exclaimed, as by the flicker- 

 ing light cast b> a single torch, he distinguished the crest of the duke 

 in the foremost rank of his soldiers ; ** is it thou ? and thinkest thou 

 again to escape me ? Have at thee, thou false and craven spirit, thou 

 treacherous caitiff, thou disgrace to chivaliy ! — God and St. Michael 



for Trevallyan ! defiance and dishonour to Norfolk " here he 



made a furious blow at the duke with his battle-axe, which was parried 

 by a similar, though lighter weapon, the shaft of which was shivered 

 by the blow. Seizing another from a soldier near him, the duke 

 instantly returned the stroke, saying in his clear, cold voice, " Thy 

 efforts are vain, proud earl ! Thou hast soared high, but I will clip 

 thy pinions : once have I failed — now thou art in my power. Think 

 of Margaret Percy — think of " but the sentence was left un- 

 finished, the torch being struck to the ground — and all was darkness. 



Impossible would it be adequately to describe the horrible din and 

 tumult which now took place. Men grappled with one another, not 

 knowing whether it was with friend or foe. Blows were struck upon 

 the walls or the empty air. The war-cries of " Trevallyan and Corn- 

 wall ! — God for Trevallyan ! God and St. Michael for the brave earl !" 

 were mingled with " Norfolk for King Henry ! Destruction to the 

 traitor ! " while, mixed up in inextricable and dreadful confusion, 

 oaths and imprecations of revenge and fury, and the groans of the 

 dying, added to the horrors of the fray. Once did Trevallyan think 

 he heard the clear voice of Norfolk near him, saying, as he incited 

 his troops to press their enemies into the castle, " Press on, brave 

 men : ten bezants to the man who brings me the head of Trevallyan !' 



" Dastard — craven — false, perjured villain — have I met thee again ?" 

 frantically shouted the earl. " Oh, that heaven would place thee 

 where I could grasp thee in the struggle of death ! Death with re- 

 venge on THEE would be sweet ! " and he struck furiously forward in 

 the dark, and his axe went crashing among a mass of men. 



The assailants were now gainmg a manifest advantage, and bearing 

 the defenders of the castle down a succession of naiTow winding 



