A March on London by G. A. HentyBeing a Story of Wat Tyler’s Insurrection (page 3)

“They are Flemings!” the man whom Edgar had struck shouted out.

“Well, sir, I should say that you were a Fleming yourself, by your speech,” Edgar said.

“I am but a clerk,” the man said. “He who lives here is one of the Flemings who bought the taxes, and has been grinding down the people, of whom I am one.”

“The people must be badly off, indeed,” Edgar said, contemptuously, “if they need to have such a cur as you on their side.”

But his words were drowned by the furious shouts of the crowd, “Death to the Flemings!” and a rush was made at the door, headed by the clerk, who struck savagely at Edgar. The latter parried the stroke, and thrust the man through the throat. With a yell of rage the crowd now strove furiously to enter, but the position of the two lads standing back a couple of feet from the entrance rendered it impossible for more than two or three to attack them at once, and the clubs and rough weapons were no match for the swords. Nevertheless, although five or six of their opponents fell, the weight of numbers pressed the friends back to the staircase, where they again made a stand.

For five minutes the conflict raged. The boys had both received several blows, for the weight of the heavy weapons sometimes beat down their guard; but they still fought on, retiring a step or two up the stair when hardly pressed, and occasionally making dashes down upon their assailants, slaying the foremost, and hurling the others backwards. Presently the girl ran down again to them.

“All are in safety,” she said. “Run upstairs when you can. Where you see me standing at a door run in and lock it on the inside.”

“One more rush, Albert, and then upstairs.”

With a shout Edgar threw himself upon a man who had raised a heavy pole- axe, and cut the fellow down. Then, as the man fell, Edgar flung himself on him, and hurled him against those behind, while Albert at the same moment ran an opponent through the body. Then, turning, they sprang up the stairs. On the landing above the girl was standing at an open door. They ran in and closed it, and then piled articles of furniture against it.

“There is no occasion for that,” she said; “this way.”

The room was heavily panelled, and one of the panels was standing open. They followed her into this.

“Push it back,” she said; “it is too heavy for me.” The panel was indeed of great weight, the wood being backed with brick, the whole ran on rollers, but Edgar had no difficulty in closing it.

“Thank God, and you, gentlemen, that we are in safety. The keenest eye could not see that the panel opens, and, being backed with brick, it gives no hollow sound when struck. They will search in vain for it.”

Taking a lamp from the ground, she led the way down a narrow flight of stairs. By the depth to which they descended Edgar judged when they reached the bottom that they must be below the level of the cellars. She opened a door, and entered an apartment some twenty feet square. It was lighted by four candles standing on a table. In one corner a woman lay on a pallet; two women servants, sobbing with terror and excitement, stood beside her, while a tall, elderly man rose to meet them.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I don’t know how to thank you. You must think it cowardly that I did not descend to share your peril; but it was necessary that I should go to the storey above that you reached to bring down my wife, who, as you see, is grievously sick. Her two maids were very nearly distraught with terror, and, if left to themselves, would never have carried their mistress below. Having had some experience of popular tumults in Bruges, my native town, I had this hiding-place constructed when I first came here twenty years ago. Now, to whom am I indebted for our safety?”

Edgar introduced his companion and himself.

“Then you are not, as would seem by your attire, merchants like myself?”

“No, sir. We but put on this attire over our own in order to be able to traverse the streets without interruption. May I ask how it is that your daughter was alone and unattended in the streets?”

“She was not unattended. She had with her my servant, a Flemish lad, who has but recently come over. He speaks no English, and not knowing the tongue, could not be sent out alone. My wife was taken worse this morning, and the leech not having sent the medicine he promised, my daughter, thinking that there could be no danger to a young girl, went to get it, and as the servant was dressed in English fashion, and would not be called upon to speak, I thought that she could pass unnoticed did they fall in with any party of the rioters.”

“So we should have done, father,” the girl said, “had we not met a band headed by Nicholas Bierstadt.”

“The villain!” the merchant exclaimed. “So it was he who led the party here. When these troubles are over I will see that he obtains his deserts.”

“He has obtained them already, sir,” Edgar said, “for I slew the knave at the first thrust.”

“He was my clerk, the son of a man of some influence at Bruges. He was well recommended to me, and came over here to learn the business and the language, with the intention of going into trade for himself. It was not long before I came to dislike his ways, and when, a fortnight since, he asked me for the hand of my daughter, I repulsed him, telling him that in the first place, she was too young to think of marriage, and that, in the second, I liked him not, and would never give my consent to her having him, and lastly, that she liked him as little as I did. He answered insolently, and I then expelled him from the house, when he threatened me that I should erelong regret my conduct. I gave the fellow no further thought, and did not know where he bestowed himself. Doubtless he was waiting to see whether this rabble would reach London and what would come of it, and when they entered doubtless he endeavoured to gratify his hatred by leading some of them hither. And now, Joanna, tell me what befell you.”

“We went safely to the leech’s, father, and I got the medicine from him. He made many apologies, but said that he had heard so much of the doings of the rioters that he thought it best to stay indoors, and of course he had not heard that mother was taken worse. We had come half-way back when we fell in with a party of the rioters. Methinks they would have said naught, but Bierstadt, whom I had not noticed, suddenly grasped me by the arm, saying, ‘This is the daughter of the Fleming to whose house I am taking you, one of the chief oppressors of the poor.’ Johann struck him in the face, and as he loosened his hold of me I darted away. Looking back, I saw Johann on the ground, and the mob round him were hacking at him with their weapons. This gave me a start, and I ran, but just as I reached the door Bierstadt overtook and seized me; then this gentleman, who was passing, struck him a stout buffet in the face, and without waiting to see more I hastened to give you the alarm.”

“Providence surely sent you to the spot, gentlemen,” the Fleming said; “here we are absolutely safe. During the last two days I have brought down a provision of food, wine, and water sufficient to last us for a month, and long before that methinks this rascaldom will have been suppressed.”

“There is no doubt of that, sir; my only fear is that when they cannot discover where you are concealed, they will fire the house.”

“Against that I have provided,” the Fleming said. He opened the door. “See you that stone slab, above a foot in thickness; it looks solid, but it is not. It is worked by a counterpoise, and when it is lowered,” and touching a spring, it began to descend, thus closing the stairway, “not only would it baffle them did they find the entrance above, but it would prevent any fire reaching here. The staircase is of stone, and above us is a strongly arched cellar, which would resist were the whole house to fall upon it.”

CHAPTER VIII

A COMBAT IN THE TOWER

“I see that you are safe against fire, sir,” Edgar said, when the stone slab had descended and they had closed the door behind it; “but were the walls of the house to fall in you might be buried here, as I hear many drunken wretches were yesterday in the cellars of the Savoy.”

“I have means of escape,” the merchant said, going to the other side of the apartment, where there was a massive iron door, which they had not before noticed. “Here,” he said, “is a passage leading under the street; at the end it ascends, and is closed at the top by a massive panel in the hall of the house opposite. When I took this house a compatriot lived there, and it was with his consent that I made the passage, which might be useful in case of need, to him as well as to me. He returned to Flanders three years since, and the house has been occupied by an English trader, who knows naught of the passage, so that, at will, I can sally out by that way.”

“And how is your dame, sir?” Albert asked. “I trust that she is none the worse for her transport here.”

“I trust not, young sir; she swooned as I brought her down, but I at once poured some cordial between her lips, and when she opened her eyes, just before you came down, I assured her that we were all safe, and that there was no cause for the least fear; thereupon she closed her eyes again, and is, methinks, asleep. When she wakes I shall give her the medicine that my daughter brought. I trust that she will erelong recover. Her attack was doubtless brought on by the news that we received yesterday of the murder of so many of our countrymen. We had already talked of taking refuge here, but deemed not that there was any pressing need of haste, for the front door is a very strong one, and could have resisted any attacks long enough to give us ample time to retire here.”

“How do you manage to breathe here, sir, now that the stone slab is down and the door closed? I see not how you obtain air.”

“For that I made provision at the time it was built. Here are two shafts, six inches square; this one runs up into the chimney of the kitchen and draws up the air from here; the other goes up to a grating in the outer wall of the house in the yard behind. It looks as if made for giving ventilation under the floors or to the cellar, and through this the air comes down to take the place of that drawn upwards by the heat of the chimney.”

“And now, Mynheer Van Voorden,” for such they had learned was the Fleming’s name, “as there is a way of escape, we shall be glad to use it.”

“I pray you do not think of doing so at present,” the Fleming said. “We know not yet whether the evil-doers have cleared off, and methinks it is not likely that they will have gone yet. First they will search high and low for us, then they will demolish the furniture, and take all they deem worth carrying; then, doubtless, they will quench their thirst in the cellar above, and lastly they will fire the house, thinking that although they cannot find us, they will burn us with it. They will wait some time outside to see if we appear at one of the windows, and not until the roof has fallen in will they be sure that we have perished. Moreover, you cannot well appear in the streets for the present in that attire, for you might well be recognized and denounced. First of all, let me persuade you to take such poor refreshments as I can offer you.”

“Thanks, sir; of that we shall be glad, for ’tis now past noon, and we have had but a loaf we bought at a baker’s as we entered the city.”

The Fleming gave orders to the servant, and they speedily had a snow-white cloth of the finest damask on the table, and placed on it a service of silver dishes.

“‘Tis well that I had my plate brought down here yesterday,” the merchant said, smiling, “though it hardly consorts well with the fare that I have to offer you. To-morrow, should you pay us a visit, you will find us better prepared, for, as you see, we have a fireplace at the bottom of the flue opening into the kitchen chimney. This was done, not only that we might have warmth, and be able, if need be, to cook here, but to increase the draught upwards, and so bring down more air from the other flue.”

The lads, however, found that there was no need for apology, for there were upon the dishes two chickens, a raised pasty large enough for a dozen people, and a variety of sweets and conserves. The wine, too, was superb. They made a hearty meal. When they had finished, the Fleming said: “Now we will go upstairs; there is a peephole in the carving of the panel, and we can see how matters stand.”

Opening the door, they pushed up the massive stone. As they ascended the stairs they smelt smoke, which grew thicker at each step.

“We need go no further, sirs; the house is clearly on fire, and smoke has made its way through the peephole that I spoke of.”

They waited for another half hour, and then they heard a heavy crash on the other side of the stone barrier.

“The roof has doubtless fallen in or one of the walls,” Van Voorden said. “There is, be sure, a mob gathered to watch the flames, but in another half hour it will have gone elsewhere; still, I should advise you to wait until nightfall.”

They saw that this would be prudent, for their attire would certainly render them obnoxious to the rioters. They were, however, impatient to be off and see what was being done. The Fleming’s wife was still sleeping soundly, and her husband said that he was convinced that the crisis was passed, and that she would now recover. The Fleming asked them many questions about themselves, and where they could be found. They told them where they were at present lodging, but said they thought that as soon as the present troubles were over they should return to their home in the country.

“I myself shall be returning to Flanders, sirs. I have talked of it many times these last five years, and after this outburst it will be long before any of my people will be able to feel that they are safe in London. Had it not been that the populace are as much masters in Bruges as they are here, I should have gone long ago.

“There is, indeed, no change for the better there, but I shall settle in Brussels or Louvain, where I can live in peace and quiet.”

At the end of half an hour Edgar said: “I think that they must have cleared off by this time. When we sally out, do you, Albert, go one way, and I will go another. There is naught in our dress to distinguish us from other citizens, and methinks that most of those who would have known us again are lying under the ruins above.”

They had, on first arriving below, washed the blood from their faces, and bathed their wounds, which were by no means of a serious character. The Fleming agreed with them that, if they separated, there would be no great danger of their being recognized. After taking farewell of the girl, who had all this time been sitting silently by her mother’s bedside, they passed through the iron door, preceded by the Fleming carrying a lamp. After passing through the passage they went up a long flight of narrow steps until their course was arrested by a wooden panel. The Fleming applied first his eye and then his ear to a tiny peephole.

“Everything is quiet,” he said; then touched a spring, pushed the panel open a short distance, and looked out.

“All is clear; you have but to open the door and go out.”

He pushed the panel farther back, pressed the lads’ hands as they went out, and then closed the entrance behind them. There was but a single bolt to undraw; then they opened the door and stepped into the street, Edgar waiting for half a minute to let Albert get well away before he went out.

The front wall of the opposite house, having fallen inward, quickly smothered the fire, and although a light smoke, mingled with tongues of flame, rose from the ruin, the place had ceased to have any attraction for the mob, who had wandered away to look for more exciting amusement elsewhere.

Scenes of this kind were being enacted throughout the city. Already the restriction against plundering was disregarded, and although the men from the counties still abstained from robbery, the released prisoners from the jail and the denizens of the slums of the city had no such scruples, and the houses of the Flemings were everywhere sacked and plundered. The two friends met again at Aldgate. When they reached Tower Hill, it was, they found, occupied by a dense throng of people, who beleaguered the Tower and refused to allow any provisions to be taken in, or any person to issue out.

“What had best be done, Edgar? So menacing is the appearance of the rabble that methinks this attire would be as much out of place among them as would our own.”

“I agree with you there, Albert, and yet I know not what we are to do. What we need is either a craftsman’s dress or that of a countryman, but I see not how the one or the other is to be obtained. Assuredly nothing is to be bought, save perhaps bread, for the rioters have ordered that all bakers’ shops are to stand open.”

He stood for a minute thinking. “I tell you what we might do,” he went on. “Let us go back into Aldgate, and then down on to the wharf. There are many country boats there, and we might buy what we need from the sailors.”

“That is a good idea indeed, Edgar.”

In a quarter of an hour they were on the wharf. Many of the craft there had no one on board, the men having gone either to join the rioters or to look on at what had been done. The skipper of a large fishing-boat was sitting on the wharf looking moodily down into his vessel.

“Are you the captain of that craft?” Edgar asked him.

“I used to think so,” he said; “but just at present no one obeys orders, as every Jack thinks that he is as good as his master. I ought to have gone out with the morning’s tide, but my men would not have it so, and just at present they are the masters, not I. A murrain on such doings, say I. I was with them when it was but a talk of rights and privileges, but when it comes to burning houses and slaying peaceable men, I, for one, will have naught to do with it.”

“Captain,” Edgar said, “I see that you are an honest man, and maybe you will aid us. We find that there is peril in going about attired as we are, for we aided a short time since in saving a Flemish family from massacre by these fellows, and we need disguises. We want two countrymen’s suits– it matters not whether they be new or old. We are ready to pay for them, but every shop is closed, and we have come down to the wharves to find someone who will sell.”

“There is no difficulty about that,” the skipper said, rising from his seat. “My own clothes would scarce fit you, but two of my crew are somewhat of your size. Step on board, and I will overhaul their lockers, and doubt not that I shall find something to serve your purpose. They will not mind if they find that there is money sufficient to buy them new ones. Indeed, there is no need for that, for if you leave behind you the clothes you wear they will sell at Colchester for enough to buy them two or three suits such as those you take.”

There was in those days no distinctive dress worn by sailors. The captain went down into the little cabin forward and opened two lockers.

“There,” he said, “suit yourselves out of these. They are their best, for they thought that aught would do for mixing up with the mob in the city.”

So saying he went on deck again. The citizen’s clothes were soon stripped off, and the lads dressed in those they took from the lockers, and in a few minutes they rejoined the skipper, looking like two young countrymen.

“That will do well,” he said, with a laugh. “Hob and Bill would scarce know their clothes again if they saw them on you. No, no,” he added, as Albert put his hand into his pouch, “there is no need for money, lads; they will be mightily content with the clothes you have left. Well, yes; I don’t care if I do take a stoup of liquor. There is a tavern over there where they keep as good ale as you can find anywhere about here.”

After drinking a pint of beer with the honest skipper, they again went off to the Tower, and mingled in the crowd. It was easy to see that it was composed of two different sections–the one quiet and orderly, the men looking grave and somewhat anxious, as if feeling that it was a perilous enterprise upon which they were embarked, although still bent upon carrying it out; the other noisy and savage–the men from the jails, the scum of Canterbury and Rochester, and the mob of the city. Between these classes there was no sympathy, the one was bent only upon achieving their deliverance from serfdom, the other was solely influenced by a desire for plunder, and a thirst for the blood of those obnoxious to them. Presently there was a loud shout from the crowd as the drawbridge was lowered.

“Perhaps they are going to make a sally, Albert. If so, we had best make off to our lodgings, throw off these garments, and appear in our own.”

“‘Tis the king!” Albert exclaimed; “and see, there is De Vere, the Earl of Kent, and other nobles riding behind him.”

“Yes; and there is your father. The king and those with him are without armour or arms; if they had seen as much as we have seen the last two days, they would scarce trust themselves in such a garb.”

A great shout arose as the boy king rode across the drawbridge. The lads noticed that the shout proceeded from the men who had hitherto been silent, and that the noisy portion of the crowd now held their peace. The king held up his hand for silence.

“My friends,” he said, in a loud, clear voice, “there is no room here for conference. Follow me to Mile End Fields, and I will then hear what you wish to say to me, and will do what I can to give you satisfaction.”

A great shout arose, and as the king rode off, most of the country people followed him. A great mob, however, still remained. These consisted principally of Wat the Tyler’s following, who had ever been in the front in the doings that had taken place, together with the released malefactors and the town rabble. A few minutes after the king and his followers had left, there was a movement forward, and a moment later, with loud shouts, they began to pour across the drawbridge.

“What madness is this?” Edgar exclaimed. “There are twelve hundred men there, and yet no bow is bent. It must be treachery!”

“It may be that, Edgar; but more like, orders have been issued that none should shoot at the rioters or do them any harm, for were there any killed here it might cost the king his life.”

“That may be it,” Edgar muttered; “but come on, there is no saying what may happen.”

They were now near the drawbridge, for when a part of the gathering had left to follow the king, they had taken advantage of it to press forward towards the gates, and in a few minutes were inside the Tower. All was in confusion. The men-at-arms and archers remained immovable on the walls, while a crowd of well-nigh twenty thousand men poured into the Tower with shouts of “Death to the archbishop! Death to the treasurer!” Knowing their way better than others, Edgar and Albert ran at full speed towards the royal apartments. Finding themselves in a deserted passage they threw off their upper garments.

“Throw them in here,” Edgar said, opening a door; “they may be useful to us yet.”

Finding the king’s chamber empty, they ran into the princess’s apartment. The princess was sitting pale and trembling, surrounded by a group of ladies, among whom was Dame Agatha. A few gentlemen were gathered round. Just as the lads entered, Sir Robert Hales, the treasurer, ran in.

“Madam,” he said, “I beseech you order these gentlemen to sheathe their swords. Resistance is impossible. There are thousands upon thousands of these knaves, and were a sword drawn it would cost your life and that of all within the Tower. They have no ill-will against you, as they showed when you passed through them at Blackheath. I implore you, order all to remain quiet whatever happens, and it were best that all save your personal attendants dispersed to their apartments. Even the semblance of resistance might excite these people to madness, and serve as an excuse for the most atrocious deeds.”

“Disperse, I pray you, knights and ladies,” the princess said. “I order– nay, I implore you, lose not a moment.”

“Come,” Dame Agatha said, firmly, taking hold of Aline’s hand; “and do you follow, my son, with Edgar.”

They hurried along the passages, one of which was that by which the lads had entered.

“Go on with them,” Edgar said to his friend; “I will follow in a moment. This is the room where we left our disguises.”

Running in he gathered the clothes, made them into a rough bundle, and then followed. He overtook his friends as they were mounting a staircase which led to a room in one of the turrets. As they reached the chamber, and the door closed behind them, Dame Agatha burst into tears.

“I have been in such anxiety about you both!” she exclaimed.

“We have fared well, mother,” Albert said; “but do you lose no moment of time. We have disguises here. I pray you put on the commonest garment that you have, you and Aline. If you can pass as servants of the palace, we can conduct you safely out of the crowd.”

Edgar ran up a narrow flight of stone stairs, at the top of which was a trap-door. He forced back the bolts and lifted it.

“Bring up the clothes, Albert,” he called down. “We will put them on while the ladies are changing, and we can watch from this platform what is doing without.”

They soon slipped on the countrymen’s clothes over their own, and then looked out at the scene below. Every space between the buildings was crowded by the mob shouting and yelling. The garrison still stood immovable on the outer walls.

“You must be right, Albert. Even if there be some traitors among them there must also be some true men, and never would they stand thus impassive had not the strictest orders been laid upon them before the king’s departure.”

In a minute or two they saw a number of men pour out, hauling along the Archbishop of Canterbury, Sir Robert Hales, the king’s confessor, and four other gentlemen. Then with exulting shouts they dragged their prisoners to Tower Hill, and then forced them to kneel.

“They cannot be going to murder them!” Albert exclaimed with horror.

“That is surely their intent,” Edgar said, sternly. “Would that we were there with but a hundred men-at-arms. Assuredly there would be a stout fight before they had their way.”

“I cannot look on!” Albert exclaimed, hurrying to the other side of the platform as a man armed with a heavy sword faced the prisoners.

Edgar did not move, but stood gazing with scowling brow and clenched hand. Presently he turned.

“There is naught more to see, Albert. All are murdered! God assoil their souls.”

At this moment Dame Agatha called out from below that they were ready, and they ran down at once into the chamber. Dame Agatha and her daughter were both dressed in rough garments with hoods pulled over their faces, and might well have passed unnoticed as being the wife and daughter of some small trader, or superior domestics of the palace. Just as they were about to start they heard an uproar on the stairs below. The door had been already fastened.

“Best to open it,” Edgar said; “they would but break it in.”

Seven rough fellows, whose flushed faces showed that they had already been drinking, rushed into the room.

“Who have we here?” one shouted roughly. “Two wenches and two country lads. But what are all these fine clothes lying about; they must be nobles in disguise. We must take them down to Tyler and hear what he has to say to them. But, first of all, let us have a kiss or two. I will begin with this young woman,” and he rudely caught hold of Aline.

Edgar’s sword flashed out, and with the hilt he struck the ruffian so terrible a blow on the top of his head that he fell dead. An instant later he ran another through the body, shouting to the ladies: “Quick! to the platform above! Albert, guard the stairs after they pass. I will hold this door. None of these fellows must go out alive.”

Taken by surprise for a moment, the men made a rush at him. The nearest was cut down with a sweeping blow that caught him on the neck, and almost severed the head from his body. Albert had drawn his sword as soon as he saw Edgar strike the first blow, and ran one of the men through the body, then engaged another, who made at him fiercely, while Dame Agatha and Aline sped up the steps. There were now but three foes left. While one engaged with Albert and pressed him hotly, the other two attacked Edgar, who was standing with his back to the door; but they were no match for the young swordsman, who parried their blows without difficulty, and brought them one after the other to the ground just as Albert rid himself of his opponent.

“Bring the ladies down, Albert, quickly. We must be out of this before anyone else comes.”

Albert ran up. The two ladies were on their knees. “Quick, mother! There is not a moment to be lost. It is all over, and you have to go down as speedily as possible.”

Dame Agatha passed through the scene of carnage without a shudder, for she had more than once accompanied Sir Ralph abroad, and had witnessed several battles and sieges, but Aline clung to Albert’s arm, shuddering and sobbing. Edgar stood at the door until they had passed out. He closed it behind him, locked it on the outside, and threw the key through a loophole on the stair. They met with no one until they reached the lower part of the Tower, which the rioters were now leaving, satisfied with the vengeance that they had taken upon the archbishop and treasurer, whom they regarded as the authors of the obnoxious poll-tax. The party were unquestioned as they issued out into the yard and mingled with the mob. Here they gathered that the princess, having been roughly kissed by some of those who first entered her apartment, had swooned with terror, and that her attendants had been permitted to carry her down and place her in a boat, and that she had been taken across the river.

The rioters poured out across the drawbridge with almost as much haste as they had pressed over to enter the Tower, anxious to be away before the king’s return, when he might turn against them the whole of the garrison. Many had intoxicated themselves by the wine in the royal cellars, and beyond a few rough jests nothing was said to the ladies, who were supposed to be some of the royal servants now being escorted to their country homes by their friends. As soon as possible Edgar and Albert edged their way out of the crowd and soon reached the door of their lodging. As soon as the garden gate closed behind them Aline fainted. Edgar, who was walking beside her, caught her as she fell, and carried her into the house, where he left her for a while in the care of her mother.

The latter said before she closed the door: “Edgar, I charge you to go back to the Tower and speak to my lord as he enters with the king. He will be well-nigh distraught should he find that we are missing, and go up to our chamber to look for us. Albert, do you remain here with us.”

A quarter of an hour later she came down to her son.

“Aline has recovered her senses,” she said, “but will have to lie quiet for a time. Now tell me what has happened. Have any of the Court been killed?”

Albert told her of the murder of the archbishop, the treasurer, and their five companions.

“‘Tis terrible!” she said, “and I can well understand that Edgar was so maddened at the sight that when one of those half-drunken wretches insulted Aline he could contain himself no longer. But it was a rash act thus to engage seven men.”

“Well, mother, if he had not smitten that man down I should have run him through. My sword was half out when he did so. You would not have had me stand by quietly and see you and Aline insulted by those wretches. But, indeed, the odds were not so great, seeing that they were but rabble of the town, and already half-drunk. Besides the man that he smote down, Edgar killed four of them, while I had but two to encounter, which was a fair division considering his strength and skill compared with mine. No half measures would have been of any use after that first blow was struck. It is certain that we should all have been killed had one of them escaped to give the alarm.”

“I am far from blaming you, Albert. My own blood boiled at the indignity, and had I carried a dagger I believe that I should have stabbed that fellow myself, though I had been slain a moment afterwards.”

Looking out from the gate Edgar saw that the mob had now melted away. Throwing off his disguise, he proceeded to the Tower. Half an hour later the king rode up at a furious pace, followed by all who had ridden out with him save the king’s half-brothers, the Earl of Kent and Sir John Holland, who, knowing their own unpopularity, and alarmed for their safety, put spurs to their horses and rode away. The king threw himself from his horse at the entrance, at which Edgar was standing.

“Is the news that has reached me true,” he asked him, “that the princess, my mother, has been grossly insulted by this foul rabble, and that the archbishop, treasurer, and others have been murdered?”

“It is quite true, your Majesty; the princess has been carried across the river in a swoon; the bodies of the gentlemen murdered still lie on the hill.”

With an exclamation of grief and indignation the king ascended the steps.

“What of my dame and daughter, Edgar?” the knight asked, as the king turned away.

“They are both safe, and at their former lodging, Sir Ralph. Dame Agatha sent me here to acquaint you where they were to be found; she knew that you would be very anxious as to their safety.”

“I thank her for the thought,” the knight said, turning his horse’s head to go there. “Where have you and Albert been for the last two days?”

“We have slept at the lodgings, Sir Ralph, and during the day have traversed the city in sober clothes watching what has been done.”

“Then you have seen scenes which must have made you almost ashamed of being an Englishman,” Sir Ralph said, angrily. “This has been a disgraceful business. It was bad enough to destroy John of Gaunt’s palace; for, although I love not Lancaster greatly, it was an ornament to London and full of costly treasures. For this, however, there was some sort of excuse, but not so for the burning of the Temple, still less for the destruction of the great house of the Knights of St. John, and also the manor-house of the prior of the order. I hear to-day that great numbers of Flemings have been slain, their houses pillaged, and in some cases burnt. Now comes the crowning disgrace. That the Tower of London, garrisoned by 1,200 men, and which ought to have defied for weeks the whole rabbledom of England, should have opened its gates without a blow being struck, and the garrison remained inert on the walls while the king’s mother was being grossly insulted, and the two highest dignitaries of the state with others massacred is enough, by my faith, to make one forswear arms, put on a hermit’s dress and take to the woods. Here we are!”

The knight’s two retainers ran up to take his horse as he entered the gateway; and, vaulting off, he hurried into the house.

“Why, Agatha, you are strangely pale! What has happened? I have not had time yet to question Edgar, and, indeed, have been talking so fast myself that he has had no chance of explaining how you and Aline managed to get here. You came by water, I suppose, and so escaped that crowd of knaves round the Tower?”

“No, Sir Ralph, we escaped under the protection of your son and this brave youth. Had it not been for them we should surely have suffered indignity and perhaps death.”

“What! were they in the Tower? How got they there, wife?”

“I have had no time to ask questions yet, husband, having been attending Aline, who fainted after bearing up bravely until we got here. She has but a few minutes since come out of her swoon, and I have stayed with her.”

“Tell me what has happened, Albert,” the knight said.

“We slept here last night, sir; and upon sallying out found the rioters assembled round the Tower. We were clad in traders’ dresses Master Gaiton had given us; and seeing that there was no chance of entering the Tower, while it would not have been safe to have mingled with the mob in such an attire, we knew not what to do until Edgar suggested that we might, if we went down to the wharf, obtain disguises from one of the vessels lying there. We were fortunate, and exchanged our citizen clothes for those of two sailor-men. Then we came back and mingled in the crowd. We saw the drawbridge lowered, and the king ride off with his company, followed by the more orderly portion of the rioters. In a few minutes, headed by Wat the Tyler, those who remained poured across the drawbridge and were masters of the place, not a blow being struck in its defence.

“We made our way, by back passages known to us, to the princess’s apartments, where she, with several knights and ladies, among them my mother and sister, were waiting to see what might come. Sir Robert Hales rushed in and prayed that no resistance be offered, as this would inflame the passions of the mob, and cost the lives of all within the Tower. So the princess gave orders for all to leave her save her maids, and to scatter to their own apartments, and remain quiet there. As soon as we reached my mother’s room we besought her to put on that sombre dress, and prayed her similarly to attire Aline, so that they might pass with us unnoticed through the crowd. While they were doing this we went up to the platform above, and there witnessed the murder of the archbishop, treasurer, and priest–at least, Edgar did so, for I could not bring myself to witness so horrible a sight.

“In a short time my mother called that she and Aline were ready. We were about to leave the room and hurry away, when suddenly seven rough knaves, inflamed by wine, rushed in. The leader of them said that they saw we were people of quality, and that he would take us down before Wat the Tyler, who would know how to deal with us; but before doing so he and his crew would give the ladies some kisses, and thereupon he seized Aline roughly. I was in the act of drawing my sword, when Edgar dealt him so terrible a blow with the hilt of his that the man fell dead. Then there was a general fight. Edgar shouted to my mother and Aline to run up the steps to the platform above, and to me to hold the stairs, while he placed his back to the door.

“The combat lasted but a short time, for the fellows possessed no kind of skill. In addition to the man that Edgar had first killed he slew four others, while I killed the other two. Then mother and Aline came down from the platform, descended the stairs, and mingled with the mob; they were pouring out exulting in the mischief they had done, but plainly anxious as to the consequences to themselves. We had no difficulty in coming hither. By the remarks we heard, it is clear that they took the ladies for two of the princess’s tirewomen, and we their friends who were going to escort them to their homes.”

“Of a truth ’tis a brave tale, Albert!” the knight exclaimed, bringing his hand down on the lad’s shoulder with hearty approbation. “By my faith, no knights in the realm could have managed the matter more shrewdly and bravely. Well done, Albert; I am indeed proud of my son. As for you, Edgar, you have added a fresh obligation to those I already owe you. ‘Tis a feat, indeed, for one of your age to slay five men single-handed, even though they were inflamed by liquor. Now, wife, what about Aline?”

“She is here to answer for herself,” the girl said, as she entered the room. “I am better, but still feel strangely weak. I could not lie still when I knew that you were in the house. I take great shame to myself, father. I thought I could be brave, in case of peril, as your daughter should be, but instead of that I swooned like a village maiden.”

“You are not to be blamed. So long as there was danger you kept up, and, in truth, it was danger that might well drive the blood from the face of the bravest woman; for the sight of that chamber, after the fight was over, must, in itself, have filled a maid of your age with horror. Why, the princess herself swooned on vastly less occasion. No, no, girl, I am well pleased with you; as for your mother, she had seen such sights before, but it was a rough beginning for you, and I think that you acted bravely and well.”

CHAPTER IX

DEATH OF THE TYLER

“What befell the king, my lord?” said Edgar.

“As far as he was concerned all went well. A multitude accompanied him to Mile End Fields, and then, on his demanding that they should frankly tell him what were their grievances, they handed to him a parchment containing the four points that have from the first been asked for, and all of which are reasonable enough. The king, after reading them, told them in a loud voice that he was willing to grant their desires, and would forthwith issue a charter bestowing these four points on the people. The rebels set up a great shout, and forthwith marched away in their companies, the men of Herts, Cambridge, and Suffolk, and all those of Essex who were there. Nothing could have been better. We knew not that the Kentish men and some of the Essex bands, together with the rabble of the city, had remained at the Tower, and it was only as we rode back, believing that the trouble was all over, that we heard what had happened.”

“Will the king still grant the charter, father?” Albert asked.

“I know not. Everything has been changed by the conduct of these fellows, and the murder of the archbishop, the lord treasurer, and others, to say nothing of the insults to the king’s mother, and the insolence of the mob in making themselves masters of the Tower. But, indeed, the king could not himself grant such a charter. It is a matter that must be done both by king and parliament, and when the knights of the shires and the representatives of the great towns meet, they will be equally indisposed to grant concessions to men who have burned palaces, destroyed all deeds and titles wheresoever they could find them, killed every man of law on whom they could lay hands, and throughout all England have risen against the lords of the soil.

“If the rabble could, whenever they had the fancy, rise in arms and enforce any claim that they chose to propose, they would soon be masters of all. It may be that erelong serfdom will cease, and I see not why all men should not have the right of buying and selling in open market. As to fixing the price of land, I think not that that can be done, seeing that some land is vastly more fertile than others, and that the land towns is of much greater value than elsewhere. But even in my time there have been great changes, and the condition of the serfs is very greatly improved, while the hardships they complain of, and the heavy taxation, are not felt by serfs only, but are common to all.

“However, although for a time I believe that these unlawful and riotous doings will do harm rather than good, and assuredly all those who have taken a leading part in them will be punished, yet in the end it will be seen that it were best that these things that they now ask for should be granted, and that England should be content, and all classes stand together. Undoubtedly these fellows have shown that they can bite as well as growl, and though they would always be put down in the end, it might be only after great effort and much heavy fighting, and after terrible misfortunes befalling, not only towns, but all throughout the country who dwell in houses incapable of making a long defence.

“At present we may be sure that whatever the king may promise these varlets, parliament will grant no such charter. I myself would not that they should do so. It would be fatal to the peace of the land for the commons, as they call themselves, to think that they have but to rise in arms to frighten the king and government into granting whatsoever they may demand. And now let us eat and drink, for indeed I am both hungry and thirsty, and I doubt not that ’tis the same with you. I told Jenkin, as I came in, to give us something to eat, it mattered not what, so that it were done speedily. ‘Tis well that I left the two men here, otherwise we should have found an empty larder.”

“That might well have been, father,” Albert said, “for our hostess and her servants all went away yesterday, thinking that it would be safer in the city than here, but we told Hob and Jenkin always to keep a store of food, since there was no saying when you would all return, and that, at any rate, even were we out all day, Edgar and I might want supper on our return, and a good meal before leaving in the morning.”

“What have you both been doing since I saw you last?” the knight asked, when the meal was finished.

Albert told how they had seen the mayor constrained to open the bridge gates; how the Duke of Lancaster’s palace at the Savoy had been burned, and the houses in the Temple pillaged and fired; and how the Flemings had been murdered in great numbers, and their houses sacked and in some cases burned.

“In faith, I am glad I was not there,” Sir Ralph said, “for I think not that I could have kept my sword in its sheath, even though it had cost me my life.”

“You charged us to take no part in broils, father,” Albert said, with a smile, “and we felt, therefore, constrained to do nothing save on one occasion.”

“Ah! ah!” the knight exclaimed in evident satisfaction, “then you did do something. I hope that you gave a lesson to one or more of these villains. Now that I look at you closely, it seems to me that you use your left arm but stiffly, Albert; and you have your hair cut away in one place, Edgar, and a strip of plaster on it. I thought it was the result of the fray in the Tower.”

“No, sir, it was in the other matter. We each got some blows–some of them pretty hard ones–but they were of no great consequence.”

“How did it come about, Albert?”

Albert gave a full account of the fray, from the time they came to the assistance of the Flemish girl until they escaped by the secret passage.

“By St. George, wife!” the knight said, “but these young esquires shame us altogether. While the king’s knights and courtiers, his garrison of the Tower, and the worshipful citizens of London have not among them struck one blow at this rabbledom, they must have disposed of fully a score between them–seven, you say, in the Tower, and, I doubt not, a good thirteen at the door and on the stair of this Fleming’s house–and to think that we considered this boy of ours fit for nothing else than to become a priest. This is the second time since we came up here, a fortnight since, that they have rescued a fair lady, to say nothing of their fathers, and without counting the saving of yourself and Aline; the sooner they are shipped off to France the better, or they will be causing a dearth of his Majesty’s subjects. I am proud of you, lads. Who is this Fleming? Did you learn his name?”

“Yes, sir; it was Van Voorden.”

“Say you so. It seems to me that you make choice of useful men upon whom to bestow benefits. Master Robert Gaiton is, as I learn, one of the leading citizens of London, a wealthy man, and one who in a few years is like to be mayor; and now you have befriended Van Voorden, who is the richest and most influential of the Flemish merchants in London. It is to him that the chancellor goes when he desires to raise a loan among the Flemings, and he always manages it without difficulty, he himself, as they say, contributing no small share of it. He is one who may be a good friend to you indeed, and who, should fortune take you to the Low Country, could recommend you to the greatest merchants there.”

“He will be out there himself, father. He told us that he had for some little time been thinking of returning to Flanders, and that now he should do so at once. How was it, father, that the men-at-arms did not defend the Tower?”

“It was not altogether their fault. When it was determined that the king should ride out and meet the mob, the most stringent orders were given that on no account should the archers draw a bow upon the rabble. It is true that there were doubts whether many of them were not at heart with the people, which was not altogether unnatural, seeing that they were drawn from the same class and from the same counties. Still, doubtless, most of them would have proved true, and so long as they did their duty the others could hardly have held back; but, in truth, this had naught to do with the order, which was simply given to prevent a broil between the garrison and the mob, for had some of the latter been killed, it might have cost the king his life and the lives of all with him.

“No one, however, thought for a moment that the rabble would have attacked the Tower. We supposed, of course, that the drawbridge would be raised as soon as we had passed over it, but whether the order was not given for it or whether it was misunderstood I know not, but the blunder has cost the lives of the archbishop, the lord treasurer, and others, the insult to the princess, and the disgrace of the Tower having been in the hands of this rascaldom. Well, I must be off there and see what is going to be done.”

The knight found that the king had already gone to visit his mother, who had, after landing, been conveyed to a house called the Royal Wardrobe, in Bayard’s Castle Ward by the Thames, where he remained until the next morning. While there he learned that Wat the Tyler and a portion of the Kentish men had rejected contemptuously the charter with which the men from the counties north of the Thames had been perfectly satisfied, and which was all that they themselves had at first demanded. Another was drawn up craving further concessions. This was also rejected, as was a third.

“The king is going to mass at Westminster,” the knight said, “and after that he will ride round the city. I shall go myself to Westminster with him, and you can both ride with me, for it may be that the king on his way may be met by the rabble, which is composed of the worst and most dangerous of all who have been out, for in addition to Tyler’s own following, there will be the prisoners released from all of the jails and the scum of the city. We will ride in our armour. They say there are still 20,000 of them, but even if the worst happens we may be able to carry the king safely through them.”

In the morning they took horse. The knight was in full armour; Edgar and Albert were in body armour with steel caps. He skirted the walls of the city and rode to Westminster. At the Abbey they found the lord mayor and many of the leading citizens also in armour, they having come to form an escort for the king. Richard arrived by water with several knights and gentlemen who had accompanied him on his visit to his mother. Mass was celebrated, and the king then paid his devotions before a statue of the Virgin, which had the reputation of performing many miracles, particularly in favour of English kings. After this he mounted his horse and rode off with the barons, knights, and citizens–in all some sixty persons.

“There they are,” Sir Ralph said, as a great crowd were seen gathered in West Smithfield. “I have some curiosity to see this knave Tyler. I hear from one of the knights with the king that he had the insolence to demand, in addition to all the concessions offered, that all forest laws should be abolished, and that all warrens, waters, parks, and woods should be made common land, so that all might fish in all waters, hunt the deer in forests and parks, and the hare wherever they chose.”

When they approached the rioters, the king checked his horse, and made a sign that he would speak with them. Wat the Tyler at once rode forward, telling his followers to stand fast until he gave the signal.

“The insolent varlet!” Sir Ralph muttered, grasping the hilt of his sword; “see, he lifts not his cap to the king, but rides up as if he were his equal!”

The Tyler, indeed, rode up until his horse’s head touched the flank of the king’s horse, and he and Richard were knee to knee. Nothing could exceed the insolence of his demeanour.

“King,” he said, “do you see all these men here?”

“I see them,” Richard replied. “Why dost thou ask?”

“Because,” the Tyler said, “they are all at my will, sworn to do whatsoever I shall bid them.”

So threatening and insolent was his manner as he spoke, keeping his hand on his sword, that the lord mayor, who was riding next to the king, believed that he intended to do Richard harm, and drawing a short sword, stabbed him in the throat. Wat the Tyler reeled on his horse, and Ralph Standish, one of the king’s esquires, thrust him through the body, and he fell dead. A great shout arose from his followers, and fitting their arrows to the strings of their bows they ran forward with cries of vengeance. The knights and gentlemen drew their swords, but Richard, signing to them not to advance, rode forward.

“What are you doing, my lieges?” he cried. “Wat the Tyler was a traitor. I am your king, and I will be your captain and guide.”

The mob stood irresolute. Although they had declared war against his councillors, they had always professed loyalty to the boy king himself. The king then rode back to his party.

“What had we best do now?” he asked the lord mayor.

“We had best make for the fields, sire,” the latter said; “if they see us attempt to retreat they will gain heart and courage and will rush upon us, while if we advance we may gain a little time. Sir Robert Knowles is gathering a force in the city, and I have issued an order for all loyal citizens to join him; they will soon be with us, then we shall put an end to the matter.”

[Illustration: THE LORD MAYOR STABS WAT THE TYLER, IN PRESENCE OF THE BOY- KING.]

Slowly the party proceeded onwards; the mob, silent and sullen, opened a way for them to pass, and then followed close behind them. Deprived of their leader they knew not what to do; and as no one else came forward to take the command, they did nothing until the king reached the open fields by Islington. As he did so, Sir Robert Knowles, with a following of upwards of a thousand men, rode up from the city and joined him. The mob at once took to flight, some running through the corn-fields, while others threw away their bows and other weapons, dropping upon their knees and crying for mercy.

“Shall I charge them, your Majesty? We will speedily make an end of the affair altogether.”

“No,” Richard replied; “many of them are but poor varlets who have been led astray. They are no longer dangerous, and we shall have time to deal with their leaders later on.”

It was with the greatest difficulty that Sir Robert and the citizens, who were burning with a desire to avenge the dishonour thrown upon the city by the doings of the rioters, were restrained from taking their revenge upon them.

“Nay, nay, gentlemen,” the king said, “they are unarmed and defenceless, and it would be an ill deed to slay them unresistingly. Rest content, I will see that due punishment is dealt out.”

“The king is right,” Sir Ralph said, as he sheathed his sword. “As long as they stood in arms I would gladly have gone at them, but to cut them down without resistance is a deed for which I have no stomach. It was a courageous action of the young king, lads, thus to ride alone to that angry crowd armed with bills and bows. Had one of them loosed an arrow at him all would have shot, and naught could have saved his life, while we ourselves would all have been in a perilous position. Well, there is an end of the matter. The knaves will scarce cease running until they reach their homes.”

In the meantime the insurgents throughout the country had done but little. The nobles shut themselves up in their castles, but the young Bishop of Norwich armed his retainers, collected his friends, and marched against the insurgents in Norfolk, Cambridge, and Huntingdon. He surprised several bodies of peasants and utterly defeated them. The prisoners taken were brought before him, and putting off the complete armour which he wore, he heard the confession of his captives, gave them absolution, and then sent them straight to the gibbet. With the return of the peasants to their homes the gentlemen from the country were able to come with their retainers to town, and Richard found himself at the head of forty thousand men.

He at once annulled the charters that had been wrung from him, while commissioners were sent throughout the country to arrest and try the leaders of the insurrection, and some fifteen hundred men, including all the leaders, were executed. The men of Essex alone took up arms again, but were defeated with great loss, as was to be expected. When parliament met they not only approved the annulment of the charters, but declared that such charters were invalid without their consent, and passed several stringent laws to deter the people from venturing upon any repetition of the late acts. Later on, the commons presented petitions calling for the redress of abuses in administration, attributing this insurrection to the extortions of the tax-collectors, and the venality and rapacity of judges and officers of the courts of law.

On the day following the death of Wat the Tyler Sir Ralph told the lads that the king desired to see them.

“He was good enough to ask me this morning how you had fared, and I told him how you had rescued my dame and daughter, and also how you had befriended Mynheer Van Voorden, and he at once asked me to bring you again to him.”

The king received them in private. “By St. George, gentlemen,” he said, “had all my knights and followers proved themselves as valiant as you, we should have had no difficulty in dealing with these knaves. It seems to me strange, indeed, that, while you are but a year older than myself, you should have fought so valiantly, and killed so many of these rioters.”

“Your Majesty should hardly think that strange,” Edgar said, courteously, “seeing how you yourself performed a far more valiant action, by riding up to twenty thousand angry men with bows drawn and pikes pointed. I trembled, and felt well-nigh sick when I saw you thus expose yourself to what seemed certain death. In our case the risk was but small, for in the fray here we had to deal with men flushed with wine, and knowing naught of the use of their weapons, and it was the same thing in the house of the Fleming, where, moreover, we had the advantage of ground.”

The young king was evidently pleased at the compliment. “It seemed to me that it was the only thing to do,” he said, “and I had no time to think of the danger. I have told Sir Ralph De Courcy that I would gladly knight you both, in proof of my admiration for your courage; but he has pointed out to me that you are as yet young, and that he would prefer–and believed that you also would do so–to wait until you had an opportunity of winning your spurs in combat with a foreign foe. However, it is but deferred, and I promise you that as soon as you are two years older, I will bestow knighthood upon you. I myself would willingly,” he added, with a smile, “have laid Van Voorden under an obligation. He is a very Croesus, and I regard him as my banker, for he is ever ready to open his money-bags, and to make me advances upon any tax that may have been ordered. Have you seen him since the fray?”

“No, sire, we are going to him when we leave you, to tell him that order is restored, and that he may now without danger leave his hiding-place.”

“Van Voorden is not the only merchant in London that my son and Master Ormskirk have had the good fortune to aid since their arrival here, your Majesty, for they rescued from an attack by robbers outside Aldersgate Master Robert Gaiton, who is an alderman and a foreign merchant. He had his daughter with him, and had the lads arrived a minute later, the two would have been killed.”

“I know him,” the king said; “he was one of those who rode with the lord mayor from Westminster with me. Please tell me all about it. I love to hear of brave deeds.”

Albert told the story of the rescue.

“It was well done indeed,” the king said. “I would that I could ramble about and act the knight-errant as you do. ‘Tis tiresome to be in the hands of councillors, who are ever impressing upon me that I must not do this or that, as if I were a child. I would gladly have you here about my person, but, as Sir Ralph has told me, you would fain, at any rate for the present, devote yourselves to arms, I did not press the matter, but be assured that at any time you will find in me a friend. You have but to ask a boon, and whatsoever it is, if it be in my power, I will grant it, and I hope that some day I shall find you settled at Court, where,” and he laughed, “it seems to me, that honours, if not honour, are much more easily gained than in the battle-field.”

Leaving the king’s presence, the lads went into the city. Van Voorden had showed them how the sliding panel might be opened from the outside. Already the city had resumed its usual appearance, and the people were going about their business. They therefore found the door of the house opposite Van Voorden’s standing open. Waiting until they saw that no one was near, they entered, opened the sliding panel, and, closing it carefully behind them, descended the stairs. On reaching the iron door Edgar gave three knocks, the signal that they had arranged with the Fleming. It was opened at once.

“Welcome, my friends,” Van Voorden said, as they entered. “I have not ventured out, thinking that it would be better to remain quiet for at least a week, rather than run any risk. What news do you bring me?”

“Good news, sir,” Edgar replied; “the insurrection is at an end, the men of the northern counties have marched away, the Tyler has been killed and his followers have fled, loyal gentlemen with their retainers are coming in fast, all is quiet here, the shops are open, and save for the ruins of burnt houses there are no signs of the evil days that we have passed through.”

“That is good news, indeed. My dame is better, but I shall be glad to get her out into the light and air. I will sally out with you at once and look for a lodging, where we may bestow ourselves until I have wound up my affairs and am ready to start for Flanders.”

This business was soon settled. The Fleming found a compatriot whose house had escaped sack, but who had been so alarmed that he intended to return home at once, until order was completely restored throughout the country, and he decided to let his house as it stood to Van Voorden. As a vessel was sailing that evening, he arranged to give up possession at once.

“I will, with your permission,” said Van Voorden, “fetch my wife and daughter here forthwith. The former has so far recovered from her malady that she will not need to be carried hither, but I want to get her out from the hiding-place where she now is, for, in truth, in spite of the precautions that were taken when it was built, the air is close and heavy.”

“By all means do so at once,” the Fleming said. “There is plenty of room in the house, for I embarked my wife and family ten days since, and there is no one but myself and the servants here.”

On the way Van Voorden had been warmly greeted by many acquaintances, all of whom had believed him to have been killed by the rioters before they fired his house, and on issuing out now he met Robert Gaiton.

“I am glad, indeed, to see you, Mynheer,” the latter said. “I feared that yon and yours had all perished.”

“That we did not do so was owing to the valour of these gentlemen, Master Robert; let me introduce them to you.”

“I need no introduction,” the merchant said, smiling, “for it is to their valour also that I owe it that you see me here alive. If yon can spare time to come and take your meal with me, which should be ready by this time, I will tell you about it, and will hear from you also, how they have done you a like service.”

“I will do so gladly,” Van Voorden said, “for they will not be expecting me back for some time, as they would not deem that I could so soon find a house for them to go to.”

“Of course you will come too?” said Gaiton.

“With your permission we will decline your offer,” Albert said. “My father is detained at the Tower, and my mother and sister are alone, and will be expecting us.”

“Well, I will not press you. I do not suppose that you care about having your good actions talked about.”

“Truly, Master Robert, these young gentlemen have rendered us both rare service,” Van Voorden said, after he and Gaiton had both told their stories. “I see not how I am to discharge any of my obligations to them. If they had taken us both captives in war they would have put us to ransom and we could have paid whatever was demanded, but in this case we do not stand so.”

“I feel that myself, Mynheer. A knight considers himself in no ways lowered by taking ransom from a captive, or by receiving a purse of gold from his sovereign. But his notions of honour will scarce admit of his taking money for a service rendered. I have promised to fit them out with arms, armour, and a war-horse when they go on service; but beyond that, which is after all but a trifle to me, I see not what to do.”

“I am sorry that you have forestalled me,” Van Voorden said, “for I had thought of doing that myself. I may do them a service if they should chance at any time to go to Flanders; but beyond that I see not that I can do aught at present. Later on, when they become knights, and take wives for themselves, I shall step in and buy estates for them to support their rank, and methinks that they will not refuse the gift.”

“I shall claim to take part with you in that matter,” Robert Gaiton said. “I cannot count guineas with you, but I am a flourishing man, and as I have but one daughter to marry, I have no need for my money beyond what is engaged in trade.”

“Well, we won’t quarrel over that,” the Fleming replied. “However, for the present it were best to say naught of our intentions. They are noble lads. Edgar is the leading spirit, and, indeed, the other told me, when they were waiting till it was safe for them to leave the hiding-place, that he had been a very weakly lad, and had been intended for the Church, but that Edgar had been a great friend of his, had urged him to practise in arms, which so increased his strength that he was, to his father’s delight, able to abandon the idea. He said that all he knew of arms he had acquired from Edgar, and that, while he was still but an indifferent swordsman, his friend was wonderfully skilled with his weapon, and fully a match for most men.”

“That he has proved for both of our benefits,” Robert Gaiton said. “In truth, they are in all ways worthy youths. I have seen much of them during the last few days, and like them greatly, irrespective of my gratitude for what they did for me.”

On the following day the king knighted the lord mayor, William Walworth, Robert Gaiton, and five other aldermen who had ridden with him, and granted an augmentation to the arms of the city, introducing a short sword or dagger in the right quarter of the shield, in remembrance of the deed by which the lord mayor had freed him from the leader of the rioters.

Van Voorden called with Robert Gaiton upon Sir Ralph to thank him for the services his son and Edgar had rendered him, and heard for the first time how they had saved Dame Agatha and Aline from insult, and had slain the seven rioters, of whom five had fallen to Edgar’s sword.

“Truly a brave deed, and a prudent one,” Sir Robert Gaiton said. “Once begun, it was a matter of life and death that the business should be carried out to the end.”

“His Majesty has highly commended them,” Sir Ralph said, “and would fain have knighted them had they been a year or two older.”

“I see not that age should have stood in the way,” Van Voorden broke in. “Of a surety no men could have done better, and as they have behaved as true knights in all respects, methinks they deserve the rank.”

“I cannot say you nay there, though I am the father of one of them; nevertheless, they can well wait for a couple of years. They have not yet learned that the first duty of a knight is to obey, and it were well they served under some brave captain, and learned how to receive as well as give orders. To-morrow, gentlemen, I ride to St. Alwyth, for news has come in that the Kentish rebels, as well as those of Essex, are burning and slaying on their way to their homes, and I must go and see to the safety of my castle. A force will march to-morrow morning to deal with the Essex men.”

“Then, Sir Ralph, I will ride with you,” Sir Robert said. “I have raised a troop of fifty men from my ward to join those the city is gathering for the king’s aid. They are stout fellows, and will, I warrant, fight well; and they will do as good service for the king in Kent as they would do in Essex.”

“Nay; while thanking you for your offer, I cannot so trouble you, Sir Robert.”

“‘Tis no trouble. On the contrary, after what your son did for me, it will be a pleasure to lift some small share of the burden of obligation from my shoulders, and if you will not let me ride with you, I shall go down on my own account.”

“I thank you heartily, Sir Robert, and assuredly will not refuse so good an offer, for my men in the castle are scarce numerous enough to make defence against a strong attack. I doubt not that all the serfs on the estate have been in the Tyler’s following, and my vassals would scarce be enough, even if I could gather them, to make head against a crowd.”

“When do you start, Sir Ralph?”

“As soon as the gate at Aldgate is open I shall ride through it.”

“Then I will be at the head of the bridge, awaiting you with my men.”

“I am afraid that I cannot send a contingent, sir knight,” Van Voorden said, “for so many of my countrymen have been slaughtered that we could scarce gather a company.”

“Nay; I shall have enough with those our good friend will bring me. With him by my side, and my son, and that stout swordsman, young Edgar, and with fifty sturdy Londoners, who have always in their wars proved themselves to be as good fighters as any in our armies, I would ride through a host of the rabble.”

“Will you be returning, Sir Ralph?”

“Yes; I leave my wife and daughter here, and as soon as matters are settled, come back to fetch them.”

“Then may I beg you to leave them with me?” the Fleming said, earnestly. “They will hardly wish to go back to the Tower at present, after their late experience of it. My wife and daughter will do their best to make them comfortable.”

“I accept your invitation for them thankfully,” the knight replied. “The Tower is already crowded, so many ladies and gentlemen have come in during the last few days; nor do I like to leave them here without protection.”

“I thank you most heartily, sir knight. It will be a pleasure, indeed, to my wife and daughter to have ladies with them, for indeed both are somewhat shaken from what they have gone through. I will, if it pleases you, be at the gate to-morrow if they will accompany you so far, and will escort them to my house; or, should you prefer it, my wife will come thither with me to take them back after they have had their morning meal.”

“Thanks, sir; but I will escort them myself and hand them over to you. Will you kindly bring a servant with you to carry their valises, for I had yesterday all their things removed from that room in the Tower, and at the same time had the dead bodies of the rioters carried down and thrown into the Thames.”

“I wish that there was more that I could do,” Van Voorden said to Sir Robert Gaiton as they walked back to the city.

“I will tell you what you can do, Master Van Voorden. I had the intention of doing it myself; but if you wish it I will relinquish it to you. I marked as we rode two days since to Smithfield that our friend’s son and Master Edgar Ormskirk had but body armour and wore steel caps, and I intended to buy this afternoon two complete suits for them.”

“I thank you greatly for your offer; it would be a relief to me to do something for them. Know you about their size?”

“To within an inch, for I fitted them on two citizen suits. If you like I will go with you to Master Armstrong’s. He is accounted the best armourer in the county, and provides no small share of the armour for our knights and nobles.”

“I know his name well,” the Fleming said. “I shall be glad if you will accompany me to choose them, for indeed I am but a poor judge of such matters.”

“I would fain have two suits of the best armour in your store, Master Armstrong,” Van Voorden said, as he entered the armourer’s shop. “The cost is a matter of no account, but I want the best, and I know that no one can supply better than yourself. My friend, Sir Robert Gaiton, will do the choosing for me.”

The armourer bowed to the wealthy Fleming, who was well known to everyone in the city.

“‘Tis but a matter of size that I have to decide upon,” the alderman said, “See and get the suits somewhat large, for the gentlemen for whom Mynheer Van Voorden intends them have not yet come to their full stature.”

The armourer led them to an inner room. “These are my best suits,” he said, pointing to a score of lay figures in armour ranged along the wall. “They would soon get tarnished were they exposed to the fogs of London. They are all of foreign make save these two, which, as you see, are less ornamented than the rest. The others are all of Spanish or Milanese workmanship. These two suits are my own make. Our craftsmen are not so skilled in inlaying or ornamenting as the foreigners, but I will guarantee the temper of the steel and its strength to keep out a lance thrust, a cross-bow bolt, or a cloth-yard arrow against the best of them.”

“Methinks, Mynheer,” the alderman said, “that if these suits are of the right size they were better than the Italian or Spanish suits. In the first place, these others would scarce be in keeping with two young men who are not yet knights, seeing that they are such as would be worn by wealthy nobles; in the next place, there is no saying how much the lads may grow; and lastly, I have myself promised their father to present them with a suit of armour when they obtain the rank of knighthood.”

“So be it, then,” the Fleming said. “If Master Armstrong guarantees the suits equal in strength to the others I care not, and indeed there is reason in what you say as to their fitness for the youths.”

“Will you run a yard measure round the shoulders?” Sir Robert said. One was forty inches, the other thirty-six.

“That will do well; one is bigger than the other, and the measurement will give them an inch or two to spare. And now as to heights. The one is five feet ten, the other an inch less; but this matters little, seeing that another strip of steel can be added or one taken away from the leg pieces without difficulty. I think that they will do excellently well. And now, what is the price?”

It was a heavy one, for the armour was of exceptional make and strength by reason of its temper, but was still light, the excellence of the steel rendering it unnecessary to get anything like the weight of ordinary armour.

Van Voorden made no attempt to bargain, but merely said, “Please send them round at once to the Golden Fleece, in the Poultry, which was till yesterday the abode of Master Nicholas Leyd, and also furnish me with the bill by your messenger.”

“My son will come,” said the armourer, “with two men to carry the armour, and in a quarter of an hour the suits shall be at your door.”

“Send also, I pray you, swords and daggers of the finest temper with each suit, and add the charge to the account.”

CHAPTER X

A FIGHT IN THE OPEN

It was seven in the evening, and Sir Ralph and his family had just finished their evening meal, when one of the retainers announced that two porters had brought a letter and some goods from Mynheer Van Voorden.

“Let them bring the goods in here,” Sir Ralph said, “and then take them into the kitchen and give them a tankard of ale and refreshment, and keep them there till we have a letter ready for their master.”

The party were surprised to see the bulky parcels brought in. One of the men handed a letter addressed to Sir Ralph. “Go with my retainers, my good fellows,” the latter said, “and remain until I see what your master says. Here, Albert, my scholarship is rusty; read what the Fleming says; it may tell us what are in those crates.”

“They are not for you, father,” Aline, who had run across to look at them, said; “one is for Albert and the other for Edgar.”

The letter was as follows:–

“_To the good knight, Sir Ralph De Courcy, greeting–It seems to me that, prone as your son and Master Edgar Ormskirk are to rush into danger in order to aid and succour those in peril, it were but right that they should be clad in armour suitable for such adventures, and meet that such armour should be provided for them by one of those who has benefited by their valour, whose life and that of his wife and daughter have been preserved by them. Therefore I send them two suits as the only token I can at present give them of my thankfulness and gratitude. It is feeble testimony indeed, but none the less sincere. I know well that the armour made by Master Armstrong could be borne by none worthier, and trust that the swords will ever be used in the cause of right and in the protection of the oppressed and the unfortunate._”

Aline clapped her hands joyfully as Albert finished reading the letter.

“A timely gift indeed,” the knight said; “and one that does honour both to the giver and those who receive it. Open the crates, lads, and let us see what the worthy Fleming has sent us.”

The casques were the first pieces that came to view. Albert carried his to his father, while Aline placed Edgar’s on the table in front of Dame Agatha. The knight examined it carefully.

“I know the suit,” he said, “for I was in the armourer’s shop a week before these troubles began, with the Earl of Suffolk, who had asked me to go with him to choose a suit. This, and another like it, stood in one corner, and mightily took my fancy, though others were there from the master armourers of Milan and Toledo. These two suits were, however, he thought, not as fine and ornamental as he should like; indeed, they were scarce large enough for him, for he is well-nigh as big as I am myself, and he chose a Milan suit, but Master Armstrong said to me, ‘I see you know a good piece of steel, sir knight, for methinks those two suits are the best that I have ever forged, and I would not part with them for less than the price of the very finest of those inlaid ones. I have tried their strength in every way and am proud of them, but it may be that I shall keep them here for some time before I sell them. The foreign arms are now all the fashion, and those who can afford the best would take the more showy of the foreign suits, but I would not bate a penny in their price were these two suits to stand in my shop as long as I live. Do you see that tiny mark?–you need to look closely at it to make it out. That was made by a cloth-yard arrow shot by an archer, who is reputed the strongest in the city, and who carries a bow that few others can bend to its full; he shot at a distance of five yards, and I doubt if among all those suits you would find one that would have stood such a test without a deep dint.’ ‘Tis a noble gift, lads, and the Fleming, whom I should hardly take to be a judge of armour, must either have had a good adviser with him, or he must have trusted himself wholly to Master Armstrong’s advice.”

“‘Tis like enough, father, that Sir Robert Gaiton may have gone with him to choose them when they left us yesterday. I have heard him say that though ’tis in the stuffs of Italy and the East that he chiefly deals, that his agents abroad sometimes send him suits of the finest Milan armour, swords of Damascus, and other such things, for which he can always find purchasers among the nobles who deal with him. He therefore would probably be a good judge.”

By this time the crates were completely unpacked, and the armour, with the swords and daggers, laid upon the table, where the two lads surveyed them in silent admiration.

“Put them on,” Sir Ralph said. “I know that you are longing to do so, and it would be strange were you not. Do you buckle them on the lads, dame. You have done me the service many a time, and it is right that you should be the first to do it for Albert. Aline, do you wait upon Edgar. As you are new to such work, your mother will show you how to do it, but seeing that he has struck five mortal blows in your defence, it is right that you should do him this service.”

Aline coloured with pleasure. Her mother first instructed her how to arm Edgar, and then herself buckled on Albert’s harness. Their swords were girt on, and the casques added last of all.

“They look two proper esquires, wife,” the knight said; “and as we ride to-morrow I shall make but a sorry show beside them.”

“Ah, father,” said Albert, “but your armour has many an honourable mark, and it can be seen that, if it is not as bright as ours, ’tis in battle that its lustre has been lost, while all can see that, bright as our armour may be, it has not had the christening of battle.”

“Well put!” his mother said, softly. “There was no more noble figure than your father when I first buckled his armour on for him. It was a new suit he had taken from a great French lord he had overthrown in battle, and I was as proud of him as I now feel of you, for you have shown yourself worthy of him, and though your arms are unmarked, ’tis but because your battles were fought before you had them.”

“We had hardly ventured to hope for this, dame,” Sir Ralph said, with a strange huskiness in his throat. “No knight could have begun a career more creditably or more honourably. Three times has he fought–once on behalf of you and Aline, twice for men and women in danger. In what better causes could he have first fleshed his sword? Now, unbuckle him at once, dame, that he may write in my name a letter of thanks to this noble Fleming. I have not written a letter for years, and our friend would scarce be able to decipher it were I to try.” Then he went on, as she removed Albert’s casque: “There was good taste as well as judgment in the purchase of those arms, Agatha. To me who knows what arms are, they are superb, but to the ordinary eye they would seem no better than those generally worn by knights or by esquires of good family; whereas, had he bought one of these damascened suits it would at once have attracted attention, and the lads would have been taken for great nobles. I doubt not that guided the stout alderman in his choice. He is a man of strong sense and sober taste, and had he not been born a merchant he would have made a rare good fighter.”

As soon as Albert’s harness was taken off he sat down and wrote, in his fair clerkly hand, a letter of the warmest thanks on the part of Sir Ralph, Edgar, and himself to Van Voorden. After this had been sent off, the swords and daggers were examined and admired, Sir Ralph declaring the former to be of the finest Toledo steel and the latter to come from Damascus. Edgar had said little, but he was even more delighted with his new acquisition than Albert. To have a good suit of armour had been his greatest ambition, but his father was by no means wealthy, and he had thought that his only chance of obtaining such a suit would be to overthrow some French noble in battle.

The next morning they were up betimes, and mounted a few minutes before the hour at which the city gates would be opened. Sir Ralph and his dame rode first, Aline took her place between her brother and Edgar, the latter keeping a watchful eye over her horse, which was fresh after six or seven days’ idleness. The two retainers rode behind, having the ladies’ valises strapped behind them. The city churches rang out the hour when they were within a hundred yards of the gate, and as this opened, Van Voorden, with his daughter behind him on a pillion, rode out to meet them, followed by two mounted men.

“That is thoughtful and courteous of him, dame,” the knight said. “He might well have come alone; but it is kindly of him as well as courteous to bring his daughter.”

As the party met, the Fleming bowed deeply to Lady Agatha.

“I have brought my daughter with me,” he said, “in that I might introduce her to you, and that she might assure you, in her mother’s name, of the pleasure your visit will give her.”

“‘Tis kind and courteous of you, Mynheer Van Voorden,” Dame Agatha said, as, leaning over, she shook his daughter’s hand.

“My mother bade me say that she is impatiently waiting your coming, and that your visit will give her the greatest pleasure–and yours also, Mistress Aline,” she added, as the girl rode up, “and I am sure that it will give me great pleasure too.”

Joanna Van Voorden was some two years older than Aline. Both were fair, but of a different type, for while Aline’s hair was golden, the Joanna’s was of a tawny red. Even making allowance for the difference in age, she was of a heavier build than the English girl, and gave signs of growing up into a stately woman.

“And now, Master Van Voorden,” the knight said, as the latter turned his horse, and they proceeded on their way, “I must repeat in person what I said in my letter, how deeply obliged we are to you for the superb suits of armour you sent last night to my son and his friend.”

“Speak not of it again, I pray you,” the merchant said. “I owe them a debt of gratitude that I never can hope to repay, and the harness was indeed but a slight token of it. I can only hope that some day I may have an opportunity of more worthily testifying my gratitude. We shall scarcely be able to lodge you, lady,” he went on, turning to Dame Agatha, “as I could have done in my house at Bread Street, for the one I have hired, although comfortable enough, is much less commodious; still, I doubt not that you will find your rooms more comfortable than those you occupied in the Tower, for indeed, as yet, even English palaces, stately though they be, have not the comforts that we Flemings have come to regard as necessaries.”

“So I have understood, sir, but I think that some of our city merchants cannot be far behind you, judging from what my daughter has told me of the abode of Sir Robert Gaiton.”

“No; many of the London traders are in this respect far better housed than any of the nobles with whose castles I am acquainted, and Sir Robert has, in Italy and elsewhere, had opportunities of seeing how the merchant princes there live. I have known him for some years. He is one of the foremost men in the city; he has broad and liberal ideas, and none of the jealousy of us Flemings that is so common among the citizens, although my countrymen more directly rival him in his trade than they do many others who grumble at us, though they are in no way injured by our trading.”

So they chatted until they reached the spot where the knight required to turn off towards the bridge. There was a moment’s pause, the valises were transferred to the saddles of the Van Voorden’s followers, while adieux were exchanged. Then the Fleming’s party turned to the right, while the knight, Edgar, Albert, and the two retainers trotted down at a smart pace to the bridge. Here Sir Robert Gaiton, in full armour, with fifty stout men-at-arms, were awaiting them.

“Good morrow, Sir Ralph, and you, young sirs,” Sir Robert said, as they rode up. “Let me congratulate you on your armour, which becomes you mightily.”

“And for which,” Sir Ralph put in, “I think we have somewhat to thank you for choosing.”

“Yes; I went with Van Voorden to Master Armstrong’s, not so much to choose the harness as to give my opinion as to the size required, and these suits greatly took my fancy. The armourer guaranteed their temper, and they were, as it seemed to me, about the right size; for although just at first they may be somewhat roomy, ’tis a matter that a few months will mend.

“Are they comfortable, Edgar?” he added.

“I suppose as much so as any armour can be, Sir Robert; but ’tis the first time I have worn such things, and they seem to me marvellously to confine me, and with the vizor down I should feel well-nigh stifled in my casque, and as if fighting in the dark.”

“You will get accustomed to it in a short time. I know that when I began to be known in the city, and found that I must, like others of the better class of citizens, ride in full armour when occasion offered, I felt just as you do. Perhaps more so, for I was some seven or eight years older, and less accustomed to changes, but even now I would far rather fight with my vizor up, save that one must have its protection when arrows or cross-bow bolts are flying; but as against other knights I would always keep it up; the helm itself and the cheek-pieces cover no small part of the face, and naught but a straight thrust could harm one, and I think I could trust my sword to ward that off. However, I have never yet had occasion to try. I have had more than one encounter with Eastern and African pirates during my voyages, but I have never taken my helmet with me on such journeys, and have not suffered by its loss.”

By this time they were across the bridge, and, proceeding at a sharp trot, until beyond the boundaries of Southwark, they broke into a gallop. When, after going at this pace for three or four miles, they reined their horses into a walk, Sir Ralph said, “Albert, if it likes you, you can remove your helmet and carry it on your saddle-bow.”

“Thanks, father; indeed I was well-nigh reeling in my saddle with heat. Edgar, will you take yours off?”

“No, thank you, I have got to get accustomed to it, and may as well do so now as at any other time.” Under their helmet both wore a small velvet cap. “You are looking quite pale, Albert,” Edgar went on, as his friend unhelmed.

“It is not everyone who is made of iron, as you are,” Albert laughed. “You must make allowances for me. In another year or two I hope that I too shall be able to bear the weight of all these things without feeling them; but you must remember that it is not two years since I began hard exercise, while you have been at it since your childhood.”

“I don’t forget it, Albert, and I wonder at you daily.”

At Greenwich they heard many tales as to the damage committed by the peasants on their homeward way. Houses had been sacked and burnt, and many persons of substance killed.

“The king ought to have let us charge the fellows,” Sir Ralph said, as they went forward again. “When men find that they get off without punishment for misdeeds, they will recommence them as soon as the danger is past. One lesson would have made itself felt over the whole land. I heard last night that there was news that many manors and the houses of men of law have been destroyed in Essex, and that the rioters have beheaded the Lord Chief-Justice of England, Sir John of Cambridge, and the Prior of St. Edmondsbury, and set tip their heads on poles in the market- place of Bury, and have destroyed all the charters and documents of the town. We shall have great trouble before order is restored, whereas had we charged the rioters of Kent, who are the worst of all, the others would have been cowed when they heard of the slaughter. By our lady, we will give these fellows a rough lesson if we find them besieging our castle.”

“Is it a strong place, Sir Ralph?”

“No. With a fair garrison it could easily repel any assault by such fellows as these, but it could not stand for a day against an attack by a strong body of men-at-arms, even if they were unprovided with machines.”

When within five miles of the castle they obtained sure news that it was attacked by some two thousand of the rioters, but that so far as was known it was still holding out.

“Shall we gallop on, Sir Ralph?” the alderman asked.

“Nay, we will rather go more slowly than before, so that our horses may be in good wind when they arrive. We shall need all their strength, for we may have to charge through them two or three times before they break and run, and then we will pursue and cut them up as long as the horses have breath. These fellows must have a lesson, or we shall never be able to dwell in peace and quiet.”

When within half a mile of the castle they saw that the flag was still flying above it, and knew that they had arrived in time. Then Albert put on his helmet again, and the two lads followed the example of Sir Ralph and the alderman, and lowered their vizors, for, as the knight said, “Though some of the knaves threw away their bows at Smithfield, many of the others took them away.” On reaching a field near the castle, they could see that a fierce fight was going on. The rioters had procured ladders, and were striving to climb the walls, while a small party of armed men were defending the battlement.

“By St. Mary, we are but just in time!” the knight said. “We four will ride in front. Sir Robert, will you bid your men form in two lines and follow us, one line twenty yards behind the other. Bid them all keep together in their rank, the second line closing up with the first if the fellows make a stout resistance, but above all things they must keep in their order, and follow close behind us.”

The alderman raised his voice, and repeated the orders to the men.

“The reports as to the rascals’ numbers were about right,” Sir Ralph said. “Now, boys, do you keep between us, and leave a space of some three yards between each horse, so as to give each man room to swing his sword. Now, Sir Robert, let us have at them.”

Going slowly at first, they increased their speed to a fierce gallop as they neared the mass of rioters. They had been noticed now. The men on the ladders hastily climbed down again; confused orders were heard, and many were seen separating themselves from the main body and flying. The mass of the rioters, however, held their ground, seeing how small was the number of their opponents. A flight of arrows was shot when they were some sixty yards distant, but as all were bending forward in their saddles, and the arrows were shot in haste, most of them fell harmless; three or four of the horses were struck, and plunged violently from the pain, but still kept on with the others. With a shout the party fell upon the rioters, the weight of the riders and horses throwing great numbers to the ground, while the knights and their followers hewed right and left with their swords.

The bravest spirits had thrown themselves in front, and once the troops had cut their way through these, but little resistance was met with beyond, the peasants seeking only to get out of their way. As soon as they were through the crowd they turned again, and in the same order as before, charged the mob, with the same success. As they drew up and again turned, Sir Ralph ordered them to charge this time in single line.

“They are becoming utterly disheartened now,” he said, “and we shall sweep a wider path.”

This time when they drew up they saw that the crowd had broken up, and the rioters were flying filled with dismay through the fields.

“Chase and slay!” Sir Ralph shouted, raising his vizor that his voice might reach all; “give no quarter; the business must be ended once and for all.”

Edgar and Albert both threw up their vizors–there was no fear of arrows now, and both felt half stifled. There was no longer any order kept, and the horsemen followed the fugitives in all directions. The two lads kept together so as to be able to give each other assistance should any stand be made. None, however, was attempted; the greater portion of the rioters had thrown away their arms, and when overtaken they raised cries, for mercy.

“You gave none to the Flemings,” the lads shouted in return, infuriated by the scenes that they had witnessed in London; and for an hour they followed the fugitives, sparing none who came within reach of their swords.

“We have done enough now,” Albert exclaimed at last; “I am fairly spent, and can scarce lift my sword.”

“My horse is spent, but not my strength,” Edgar said, as he reined up. “Well, we have avenged the Flemings, and have done something towards paying these fellows for their insults to the princess. Now let us wend our way back; I must say good-bye to Sir Ralph and the sturdy alderman, and will then ride home and see how my father has fared. I have little fear that any harm has befallen him, for his magic would frighten the rioters even more than our swords. Well, our armour has stood us in good stead, Albert. When we charged the first time I was several times struck with bill-hook and pike, and more than one arrow shivered on my breast- piece, but I found that the blows all fell harmless, and after that I wasted no pains in defending myself, but simply struck straightforward blows at my opponents.”

“I found the same, Edgar; the weapons glanced off the armour as a stone would fly from a sheet of strong ice.”

For a while they rode slowly to give their horses time to recover wind. When they had done so, they rode more rapidly, and, keeping a straight line–they had before ridden a devious course in pursuit–they arrived in an hour at the castle. Here they found that most of the horsemen had already returned. Two hundred bodies lay dead on the ground over which they had charged so often; and when notes were compared they calculated that no less than five hundred of the rioters had been slain.

“I think we shall hear no more of rioting in this neighbourhood,” Sir Ralph said, grimly. “If the king had but taken my advice and ridden out to Blackheath with his knights and half the garrison of the Tower, and with such aid as the loyal citizens would have furnished him, he and the city would have been spared the humiliation that they have suffered. One blow struck in time will save the need of twenty struck afterwards. Had we but killed a thousand on Blackheath it would have spared us the trouble of slaying perhaps ten times that number now; would have saved the lives of many honourable gentlemen throughout the country, to say nothing of the damage that has been wrought in London. So you are riding home, Edgar? You are right, lad; I trust you will find all quiet there.”

“Would you like twenty of my men to ride with you?” the alderman asked.

“No, thank you, Sir Robert; my father, who, as I told you, is a man of science, has prepared sundry devices, any one of which would terrify these peasants out of their wits; and if they have troubled him, which is like enough, I will warrant that he has given them as great a scare as we have given these fellows to-day.”

“At any rate, Edgar, you had best take a fresh horse. Yours has done a good day’s work, indeed; and it is just as well that you should bestride an animal that can carry you off gaily should you fall in with another party. There are half a dozen in the stalls. I don’t suppose they have been out since we have been away; besides, methinks that after such hot work as we have been doing a cup of wine will do us all good.”

Edgar, therefore, rode into the castle, and while he was taking a cup of wine and a hasty meal in the hall, Sir Ralph’s servitors changed his saddle to a fresh horse, and the lad then started for home. Confident as he felt, it was still a great satisfaction to him to see that no signs of violence were visible as he approached the house. The door in the gate was indeed closed, contrary to usual custom.

Dismounting, he rung the bell. A small grille in the door opened, then the servitor’s head appeared.

“Now then, Andrew, what are you staring at? Why don’t you open the gate?”

“I was not sure that it was yourself, Master Edgar. In that grand helmet I did not at first make you out. Well, I am glad that you have come back safely, young master, for we heard of parlous doings in London.”

“Yes, I have come back all right. I hope that everything has gone on well here.”

“Ay, ay, sir; we had a bit of trouble, but, bless you, the master sent them running, most scared out of their senses.” And the man burst into a fit of laughter.

“Here, take the horse, Andrew; I must go in to see him.”

“Hulloa! hulloa!” Mr. Ormskirk exclaimed; “is this really my son?”

“It is, father; and right glad am I to see you safe and well. I told Sir Ralph that I felt sure you would be able to hold your own here; still, I was very pleased when I saw that the gate stood uninjured, and that there were no signs of attack.”

“Has Sir Ralph come back?” Mr. Ormskirk asked; “and knows he that the rabble are besieging his castle?”

“Were besieging, father; for with us came a worthy city knight with a troop of fifty stout men; and we have given the rioters such a lesson that methinks there will be no more rioting in this part of Kent, for from four to five hundred of them have been slain, and I believe all the rest are still running!”

“It was a lesson much needed, Edgar, for after their doings in London these fellows would never have been quiet, had they not been roughly taught that they are but like a flock of sheep before the charge of men- at-arms.

“But whence this armour, my son? Truly it is a goodly suit. My coffer is so low that I know not how I shall make shift to pay for it.”

“It is a gift, father, and Albert has one like it. ‘Tis of the finest steel, and is, as you see, all undinted, though it has had many a shrewd blow from arrow, bill-hook, and pike in to-day’s fight. But the story is a long one to tell, and I pray you, before I begin it, to let me know how matters have fared here, for I hear from Andrew that you have not been left entirely alone.”

Mr. Ormskirk smiled. “No, I had a goodly company three days ago. Some hundred of men from Dartford joined, I am sorry to say, by a good share of those at the village, came round here in the evening with the intent, as they were good enough to say, of roasting the witchman in his bed. Andrew had brought me news of their intentions, so I was ready for them. I had gone out and had painted on the door, with that stuff I told you of, the rough figure of a skeleton holding a dart in his hand. It was of the same colour as the door, so that it did not show in the daylight. Then I fixed along on the top of the wall a number of coloured lights that I had seen in use in Italy on fête days, and of which I learned the composition. I had, as I told you before, placed cases of Friar Bacon’s powder round the house, and had laid trains to them by which they could be fired from within the wall.

“Had it been dark when they came the skeleton and that skull would have sufficed; but it wanted still an hour before these devices would be of use. I made them out in the distance, and thought that something else would be needed. Therefore I got that Eastern gong that I purchased as a curiosity at Genoa, and lighted a fire in the courtyard. As soon as they approached I threw pitch into the fire, making thereby a great column of smoke, and set Andrew to beat the gong furiously, telling him to shout and yell as he pleased. Then I went to an upper window to observe the effect. The crowd had halted some fifty yards away and stood open-mouthed gazing at the place, and indeed it was no wonder that such ignorant men were scared, for truly the yelling of Andrew and the noise of the gong were enough to frighten anyone who knew not what it meant.

“For some time it seemed to me that they would depart without venturing farther, but some of the bolder spirits plucked up courage and went about among the others shouting that no true Kentish man would be frightened by a noise that meant nothing, they had but to break down the door and they would soon put an end to it. However, the night began to fall before they got fairly in motion, and I went down and prepared to fire the powder should it be needful, and besides I hoisted the skull above the parapet over the gate. Thinking that the light of the phosphorus might not show up well a short distance away, I placed in addition some red fire in the skull. I then got on the wall, and sat down where I could peep out without being seen. Shouting a great deal to encourage each other, they came on until within a few paces of the gate. Then I heard a sudden cry, and those in front pushed back and stood staring at the door as if bewitched; then all ran away some distance. After much talk they came forward again, timidly pointing to the figure as they advanced.

“This was now, doubtless, plain enough to be well made out fifty yards away. There they came to a halt again. Then I called out to Andrew to light the fire in the skull, and set the jaw wagging, having so balanced it, that having been once set going it would wag for two or three minutes before it stopped. Then he ran one way with a brand from the fire, and I the other, and twelve green fires burst out. There was a yell of horror when the skull was made out The alarm was doubtless heightened by the green fire, they having never seen such a thing before, and they started to run wildly off. To hasten their flight I ran down and fired four of the powder cases, which exploded with a noise that might have been heard at Dartford.

“After that Andrew and I went quietly to bed, sure that not another soul would venture to attack the house. Andrew went into the village in the morning. He found that some of the men had been well-nigh killed by fright. All sorts of tales were told of great blazing skeletons that dashed out from the gate with dart in hand, and of a skull that breathed out red fire from a blazing mouth, and grinned and gibbered at them. As to the noises and the ghastly green fire, none could account for them, and I do believe that there is not a villager who would approach within a quarter of a mile of the house after dark, on any condition.”

CHAPTER XI

AN INVITATION

Edgar laughed heartily at his father’s account of the success of his defence of the house. Then he said: “I hope, father, that distorted accounts of the affair may not get you into trouble with the Church.”

“I have no fear of that, Edgar. I had shown the prior my preparations, and he approved of them heartily, being a man of much broader intelligence than is common. Indeed, he begged of me a pot of my shining paste, and with it painted the stone crucifix over the abbey gateway. And it was well that he did so, for last night some men came out from Dartford with intent to plunder the priory of its deeds and muniments, but on seeing the glowing crucifix, they went off in fear and trembling, and the villagers were saying this morning that the priory had been protected by a miracle, while you see in my case they attribute it to the work of the devil. And now, Edgar, tell me all that has befallen you since you went away.”

Edgar related the various adventures that had happened.