The King received a copper coal-scuttle right over his eyes, and a mahogany wardrobe was discharged at his morion, which would have felled an ox, and would have done for the King had not Ivanhoe warded it off skilfully.

Still they advanced, the warriors falling around them like grass beneath the scythe of the mower.
The ladders were placed in spite of the hail of death raining round: the King and Ivanhoe were, of course, the first to mount them.

Chalus stood in the breach, borrowing strength from despair; and roaring out, "Ha! Plantagenet, St.Barbacue for Chalus!" he dealt the King a crack across the helmet with his battle-axe, which shore off the gilt lion and crown that surmounted the steel cap.

The King bent and reeled back; the besiegers were dismayed; the garrison and the Count of Chalus set up a shout of triumph: but it was premature.
As quick as thought Ivanhoe was into the Count with a thrust in tierce, which took him just at the joint of the armor, and ran him through as clean as a spit does a partridge.

Uttering a horrid shriek, he fell back writhing; the King recovering staggered up the parapet; the rush of knights followed, and the union-jack was planted triumphantly on the walls, just as Ivanhoe,--but we must leave him for a moment.
"Ha, St.Richard!--ha, St.George!" the tremendous voice of the Lion-king was heard over the loudest roar of the onset.