Читать книгу Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent - G. P. R. James - Страница 16

CHAPTER IX.

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Leaving the brutal officer and his companions to sleep off the fumes of the wine they had imbibed, we must return to the dungeon where, in darkness and in gloom, sat Albert Maurice, the young burgher of Ghent; whom, perhaps, the reader may have already recognised in the prisoner of Maillotin du Bac.

The silent agony of impotent indignation preyed upon his heart more painfully even than the dark and fearful anticipations of the future, which every circumstance of his situation naturally presented to his mind. Wronged, oppressed, trampled on; insulted by base and ungenerous men, whose minds were as inferior to his own as their power was superior; he cared less for the death that in all probability awaited him, than for the degradation he already suffered, and for the present and future oppression of his country, his order, and his fellow-creatures, to which his hopes could anticipate no end, and for which his mind could devise no remedy. Whatever expectation Fancy might sometimes, in her wildest dreams, have suggested to his hopes, of becoming the liberator of his native land, and the general benefactor of mankind--dreams which he had certainly entertained, though he had never acted upon them--they were all extinguished at once by his arrest, and the events which he knew must follow.

The arrest had taken place, indeed, while engaged in no pursuit which the most jealous tyranny could stigmatize as even seditious. He had visited Namur with no idea of entering France--a country on which the Duke of Burgundy looked with suspicious eyes--but simply for the purpose of transacting the mercantile business which his uncle's house carried on with various traders of that city. Unfortunately, however, on his return towards Ghent, he had charged himself with several letters from different citizens of Namur, to persons in his native place. Both cities were at that time equally disaffected; and amongst the papers with which he had thus burdened himself, several had proved, under the unceremonious inspection of Maillotin du Bac, to be of a nature which might, by a little perversion, be construed into treason. The immediate cause of his first detention also--the fact of having protected a woman, insulted by one of the ruffianly soldiers of the Prevot's band, and of having punished the offender on the spot--might, as he knew well, by the aid of a little false swearing--a thing almost as common in those days as at present--be made to take the semblance of resistance to legitimate authority, and be brought to prove his connexion with the letters, of which he had been simply the bearer, unconscious of their contents.

Under such circumstances, nothing was to be expected but an ignominious death; no remedy was to be found, no refuge presented itself. Though his fellow-citizens of Ghent might revolt--though his friends and relations might murmur and complain--revolt and complaint, he well knew, would only hurry his own fate, and aggravate its circumstances, without proving at all beneficial to his country.

Had he, indeed, seen the slightest prospect of the indignation which his death would cause, wakening the people of his native place to such great, generous, and well-directed exertions, as would permanently establish the liberties of the land, there was in his own bosom that mixture of pride, enthusiasm, and patriotism, which would have carried him to the scaffold with a feeling of triumph rather than degradation. But when his eye wandered over all those he knew in Ghent--nay, in all Flanders--and sought to find a man fitted by nature and by circumstances to lead and direct the struggles of the middle and lower classes against the tyranny that then oppressed the land, he could find none, in whose character and situation there were not disadvantages which would frustrate his endeavours, or render them more pernicious than beneficial to the country. His own death, he felt, must extinguish the last hope of the liberty of Flanders, at least for the time; and neither zeal nor passion could offer anything, gathered from the prospect before him, to counterbalance, even in the slightest degree, the natural antipathy of man to the awful separation of soul and body. On the contrary, every accessory particular of his fate was calculated to aggravate his distress, by accumulating upon his head indignities and wrongs. He was to be dragged into his native town amongst grooms and horse-boys, bound with cords like a common thief, paraded through the long and crowded streets in mid-day to the common prison, from whence he was alone to issue for the gibbet or the block.

Such were the subjects of his contemplation--such were the images that thronged before his mind's eye, as, with a burning heart and aching brow, and with a lip that seemed as if some evil angel had breathed upon it all the fire of his own, he lay stretched upon the straw, which was the only bed that his gaoler had afforded him.

The dungeon was all in darkness; for, either from carelessness or design, no light had been left with him. But could his face have been seen, notwithstanding the agonizing thoughts that thrilled through his bosom, none of those wild contortions would there have been traced, which affect weaker beings under the like pangs. His hand was pressed sometimes firmly upon his brow, as if to hold the throbbing veins from bursting outright; and sometimes he bit his under lip unconsciously, or shut his teeth hard, striving to prevent the despair which mastered his heart from announcing its dominion by a groan. His eye might have been seen full of keen anguish, and the bright red flushing of his cheek might have told how strongly the body sympathized with the pangs of the mind; but all that the clearest light could have displayed would have been an effort to repress what was passing within, not the weakness of yielding to it. He lay quite still, without one voluntary movement--he suffered not his limbs to writhe--he tossed not to and fro, in the restlessness of agony--but remained quiet, if not tranquil, though full of deep, bitter, burning, voiceless thoughts.

Thus hour passed after hour--for the wings of time, as they fly through the night of despair, are as rapid as when they cut the mid-day sky of joy. Thus hour passed after hour, from the time that the brutal Prevot closed the door of the dungeon; and the prisoner could scarcely believe that the castle clock was right, when eleven--midnight--one o'clock, chimed rapidly one after another, each leaving, between itself and the last, an interval that seemed but of a few minutes.

The single stroke upon the bell--that, echoing through the long, solitary, and now silent passages and courts of the castle, passed unheeded by the sleeping guests, and only told to the watchful warder, or the sentry, that the first hour of a new day was gone--had scarcely sounded upon the ear of Albert Maurice when a new noise called his attention. It was a harsh, heavy, grating sound, as of some weighty body pushed slowly over a rough surface; and it appeared so near that his eye was immediately turned towards the door of the dungeon, expecting to see it open. It moved not, however: the sound still went on; and he now perceived that it did not come from that side of the cell.

The apartment itself was a low-roofed, massive chamber, just below the surface of the earth; and seemed to be partly excavated from the rock on which the castle stood, partly formed by the solid foundations of the building. A single window, or spiracle, of about twelve inches in diameter, passed upwards through the thick masonry, to the external air beyond: and one of those short, massive pillars, which we sometimes see in the crypts of very ancient churches, standing in the centre, supported the roof of the dungeon, and apparently the basement of the castle itself; under the tremendous weight of which, a fanciful mind might have conceived the column to be crushed down; so broad and clumsy were its proportions, in comparison with those of the rudest Tuscan shaft that ever upheld a portico.

From behind this pillar, the sounds that the prisoner heard appeared to proceed; and he might have imagined that some human being, confined in a neighbouring chamber, sought to communicate with him through the walls, had it not happened that he had caught the words of the Lord of Hannut in the morning; when, in speaking with Maillotin du Bac, that nobleman had declared that all the dungeons of the castle were untenanted. Still the noise continued, becoming more and more distinct every moment; and as, leaning on his arm upon his couch of straw, he gazed earnestly towards the other side of the vault, a single bright ray of light burst suddenly forth upon the darkness, and, streaming across the open space, painted a long perpendicular pencil of yellow brightness upon the wall close beside him.

Albert Maurice started upon his feet; and perceived, to his surprise, the ray he beheld issued, beyond all doubt, from the body of the pillar itself. The reputed commune of the Lord of Hannut with the beings of another world, his dark and mysterious studies, and the extraordinary fulfilment which many of his astrological predictions were reported to have met with, had often reached the ear of Albert Maurice; but his mind was too enlightened to be credulous, at least, to that extent to which credulity was generally carried in that age. All the fearful circumstances, too, of his new situation had hitherto blotted out from his memory the rumours he had heard; and when he had entered the castle of Hannut, he looked upon it merely as a place of temporary confinement, from which he was to be led to ignominy and death. Now, however, when he beheld with his own eyes a beam of light, doubly bright from the darkness around, breaking forth from the face of the solid masonry, without any obvious cause or means, all that he had heard rose to remembrance, and without absolutely giving credit to the different tales which he thus recalled, he was certainly startled and surprised; and held his breath, with a feeling of awe and expectation, as he gazed on the spot whence that mysterious ray seemed to proceed.

At the same time, the sound continued, and gradually, as it went on, the light expanded and grew more and more diffused. At length, it became evident, that a part of the massy column, about two feet from the ground, was opening in a perpendicular direction, slowly but steadily; and that the light issued from the aperture left by the rolling back, on either side, of two of the large stones which appeared to form a principal part of the shaft. For the first few minutes, the vacancy did not extend to a hand's breadth in wideness, though to about three feet in height, and nothing could be seen beyond, but the light pouring forth from within. A minute more, however, so much increased the aperture, that Albert Maurice could perceive a gauntleted hand, and an arm clothed in steel, turning slowly round in the inside what seemed to be the winch of a wheel. The form, to which this hand and arm belonged, was for some time concealed behind the stone; but, as the opening became larger, the blocks appeared to move with greater facility, and, at length, rolling back entirely, displayed to the eyes of the prisoner a narrow staircase in the heart of the pillar, with the head, arms, and chest of a powerful man, covered with armour. Beside him stood a complicated piece of machinery; by the agency of which, two of the large stones, forming the shaft of the column, were made to revolve upon the pivots of iron, that connected them with the rest of the masonry; and in a bracket, on the stairs, was fixed the burning torch, which afforded the light that now poured into the dungeon.

Albert Maurice stood gazing in no small surprise. The feeling of awe--which, however near akin to fear, was not fear--that he had felt on first perceiving the light, was now succeeded by other sensations; and, had there been the slightest resemblance between the personal appearance of the man who stood before him, and that of Maillotin du Bac, or any of his band, he would have supposed that the purpose of the Prevot was to despatch him in prison; an event which not unfrequently took place, in the case of prisoners whose public execution might be dangerous to the tranquillity of the state.

Totally different, however, in every respect, was the person whom he now beheld; for, though his form could not well be distinguished under the armour by which he was covered, yet that armour itself was a sufficient proof, at least to Albert Maurice, that the stranger was in no way connected with the band of the Prevot. Every plate of his mail was painted of a deep, leafy green; and even his helmet, which was without crest or plume, and the visor of which was down, was of the same forest colour. In other respects he seemed a tall, powerful man, formed equally for feats of activity and strength.

Little time was allowed the prisoner for making further observations; for as soon as the stones had been rolled back as far as their construction permitted, the unexpected visitor at once sprang into the dungeon; though the young burgher remarked at the same time, that a leap which would have made any other arms clang, with a noise sufficient to awaken the whole castle, produced no sound from those of his new visitor.

The mechanical means which he had used to procure an entrance had, at once, banished all superstitious fancies from the mind of Albert Maurice, nor did even his noiseless tread recall them. The young burgher, however, still looked upon the man-at-arms with some feelings of doubt and astonishment; though his own presence in the dungeon was far from seeming to surprise this nocturnal visitor, who, advancing directly towards him, clasped his arm, saying, in a low voice, "Follow me!"

Albert Maurice paused, and gazed upon the stranger--over whose green armour the flashing red light of the torch cast a fitful and unpleasant glare--with a glance of suspicion and hesitation; but his irresolution was removed at once, by the other demanding, in the same clear and distinct, but low tone, "Can you be worse than you are here?"

"Lead on," he replied; "I follow you."

"Pass through," said his visitor, pointing with his hand to the aperture in the column. Albert Maurice again hesitated: but a moment's reflection upon the hopelessness of his situation--the inefficacy of resistance, even if anything evil were meditated against him--together with the thought, that it were better to die, murdered in a prison, than to be exposed as a spectacle to the multitude by public execution, mingled with a strong hope, that relief was at hand, though he knew not whence that relief might come--made him cast away all doubts; and, stepping over the mass of stone, below the aperture, he found himself in a staircase only sufficiently large to admit the ascent or descent of one person at a time. The secret entrance, which it afforded to that dungeon, seemed its only object; for, to all appearance, it was carried up no farther through the column; the space above being occupied by the machinery for moving the blocks of stone.

"Descend a few steps," said the stranger, "that I may close the passage." And as soon as he found himself obeyed, he also entered the gap; and applying the full strength of his powerful arm to the winch which moved the machinery, he succeeded, in a few minutes, in rolling the heavy blocks so exactly back into their places in the masonry, that not even in the inside could it be seen that they did not form a part of the wall of the staircase.

When this was accomplished, he said, in the same abrupt manner in which he had before spoken, "Go on!" and then followed the prisoner, holding the torch as far before him as possible, to let the other see the way as he descended step by step. After having proceeded for about fifteen or twenty yards, Albert Maurice found his further progress opposed by a strong oaken door, but it was unlocked; and having pushed it open by the desire of his conductor, he stepped forth into a small vaulted chamber, not unlike in shape the dungeon he had just left. The light of another torch which was burning there, however, displayed various objects strewed about in different parts of the room, which showed him at once that the purposes to which it was applied were very different from those of the cell above. Several cloaks and gowns were piled upon a bench close to the door; and across them leaned, with one end resting on the floor, a common pike or reiter's lance, and a large two-handed sword. A barrel of wine, or some other liquor, occupied one corner of the apartment; and in the midst was placed a table, on which stood a large leathern bottle, or bottiau, with two or three drinking horns.

Sitting on a bench at the far end of this table, on which his head and arms rested, was a man apparently sound asleep. He was armed all but his head, which was covered alone by its own long tangled black hair; but his armour was of a very different kind from that of the stranger who had guided Albert Maurice thither, consisting alone of one of those light suits of body mail, which were called brigandines; and the common use of which, amongst the lawless soldiers of the day, had acquired for them the name of brigands. The general hue of his whole dress, however, was green, like his companion's, and Albert Maurice was soon led to conceive, that he was in the hands of a party of those bold adventurers, who in that part of the country had succeeded the schwarz reiters, or black horsemen, and had obtained, from the general colour of their dress, the title of green riders. It is true that the latter had displayed, upon all occasions, a much more generous and noble spirit than their predecessors, whose sole trade was blood and carnage. As they abstained totally from plundering the peasants, and directed their attacks in general against persons who were in some way obnoxious to the better part of the population, the green riders were far from unpopular throughout the country. Many of them were known to show themselves familiarly at village feasts and merry-makings; and upon the borders of France and Flanders, their general name had been changed, from these circumstances, into that of Les Verts Gallants, though it seemed that their principal leader was more particularly distinguished by this appellation. Nor was the acquisition of this pleasant title the only effect of their popularity, which produced for themselves a much more beneficial result, by making both peasant and burgher, and even many of the feudal lords themselves, anxious to connive at the escape of the green riders, whenever they were pursued by superior bodies of troops.

Into the hands of some one of their parties Albert Maurice now clearly saw that he had fallen; and as the sort of romantic life which they led had caused a thousand stories to be spread concerning them--some strange and extraordinary enough, but none more common than that of their finding access into towns and castles without any visible means--their connexion with the dwelling of the Lord of Hannut required no explanation to the young citizen.

The moment he had entered the chamber which we have just described, the Vert Gallant, as we shall henceforth term the person who had led Albert Maurice thither, closed the heavy door which cut off the communication with the staircase, and locked and barred it with no small precaution. Advancing towards the table, he shook the slumberer by the shoulder, who, starting up, merely required a sign to place himself in the position of a sentry, at the mouth of a dark passage which led from the other side of the chamber.

"Now, Sir Burgher," said the Vert Gallant, approaching Albert Maurice, "you have penetrated into places which the eye of none of your cast or craft ever beheld before; and, as you have been led thither solely for your benefit and safety, you must take a serious oath, for the security of those who have conferred upon you so great a favour."

"That I will willingly," replied Albert Maurice, "although Heaven only knows whether it may prove a benefit to me or not."

"Rule yourself by my directions," replied the other, "and fear not for the result. But first for the oath." So saying, he unsheathed his sword, and holding up the cross which formed the hilt, before the eyes of the young burgher, he added, "Swear by this blessed symbol of our salvation, by your faith in the Saviour who died upon the cross, by your hope for his aid at your utmost need, by all that you hold dear upon the earth and sacred beyond the earth, never to reveal, by word, sign, or token, or in any other manner whatever, anything that you have seen from the moment that you quitted the dungeon above, or that you may see as I lead you hence."

"Willingly do I swear," replied Albert Maurice, and he pressed the hilt of the sword upon his lips. "Nevertheless," he added, "for the security of all, fair sir, I would rather that, by bandaging my eyes, you should take from me the means of betraying you, even if I would."

"Hast thou no confidence in thine own honour?" demanded the Vert Gallant. "If so, by the Lord, I regret that I took the trouble to save so scurvy a clown!"

The eye of the prisoner flashed, and his cheek grew red; but, after a moment's pause, he replied, "Not so. It is not that I doubt my own honour, for I have sworn not to betray you, or to reveal anything that I may see; and that torture has not yet been invented by the demons who are permitted to rule so much upon our earth, that could tear from me one word in violation of that oath. Nevertheless, sir, I would rather be able to say that I cannot, than that I will not tell, and therefore I proposed the means at which you scoff without cause."

"Thou art right, and I am wrong, stranger," answered the other. "Be it so then. With this scarf I will bind up thine eyes. But first," he added, "take a draught of wine, for thou wilt have to travel far ere morning."

So saying, he filled one of the horns upon the table to the brim, and presented it to the young burgher, who drank it off. The Vert Gallant himself, however, did not unclose the visor of his helmet, to partake of the beverage he gave to the other. As soon as the citizen had drained the cup, his guide took the scarf from the bench, and bound it over his eyes, saying with a light laugh as he did so, "I am clumsy at the work with these gauntlets on, but better have my fingers busy at thy temples, than the hangman's busy at thy neck. Now give me thy hand," he added; "the way is rough, so mind thy footing as we go."

Albert Maurice was now led forward to the mouth of the passage, at which the other adventurer stood; and he then advanced for some way over an uneven pavement, till at length he was told that there were steps to descend. Of these there were about thirty, and he remarked, as he went down, that the air became very close and oppressive. He thought, too, that he heard many voices speaking and laughing beyond; and as he proceeded, it became clear that it was so, for by the time he and his guide had reached the bottom of the descent, the sound of merriment burst clear upon his ear. "Now, pause for a moment," said his companion, and at the same time he struck three hard blows with his mailed hand, upon what seemed to be a door. All instantly became silent within, and then a single blow upon the woodwork was struck from the other side. It was answered in the same manner, by one stroke more; and the next moment, after some clattering and grating caused by the turning of more than one key, and by the removing of more than one large bar, the door was apparently thrown open; and Albert Maurice could tell, by the freer air which he breathed, that he was led forward into some apartment of much larger dimensions than any he had yet seen. No voice was heard; but the sound of moving feet, and of seats pushed on one side, as well as the steam of wine and dressed meats, showed clearly that they had now entered some scene of late or present festivity. The person who had conducted him thither soon let go his hand, but at the same time he heard his voice, exclaiming, "Now, unbind his eyes for a few minutes. Have my orders been obeyed?"

While several voices were busily answering this question, by detailing the despatch of a number of messengers, as it seemed, in different directions, and for purposes which Albert Maurice could not gather from what was said, two persons undid the scarf which had been tied round his head, and he suddenly found himself in a scene which may need a more detailed description.

The apartment in which he stood, if apartment it could be called, was neither more nor less than an immense cavern, or excavation in the limestone rock, from which, as it bore evidently the traces of human labour, it is probable that at some remote period the stone for constructing one or several large buildings had been hewn out. In height it might be twenty or five and twenty feet, and in width it was considerably more; the length was about eighty yards, and the farther end, on one side, was closed by a wooden partition. Overhead the rock was left rough and irregular, but the sides, very nearly to the top, were perpendicular, and tolerably smooth, while the floor, or rather the ground, had of course been made as level as possible in its original construction, for the purpose of rolling out the blocks of stone with greater facility. Extending down the centre of this spacious apartment was a table, covered with various sorts of food. The viands which it sustained consisted chiefly of immense masses of solid meat, amongst which, though beef and mutton bore a certain share, yet the stag, the wild boar, and the fallow deer, with other of the forest tenants, had contributed not a little to make up the entertainment. On either side of this table, which, by the way, was itself formed of planks, bearing traces of the saw much more evidently than those of the plane, were ranged an innumerable multitude of benches, stools, and settles of the same rude description. From these had risen up, as it seemed, on the entrance of the prisoner and his companion, the mixed population of the cavern, consisting of nearly two hundred cavaliers, as sturdy, and, apparently, as veteran as ever drew sword or mounted horse; and, when the bandage was removed from the eyes of the young citizen, he found that a number of those whose habiliments seemed to point them out as the most distinguished, were thronging round the person who had led him thither.

"John and Nicholas have gone to the west," cried one, "to tell the band of St. Bavon to keep beyond Ramilies." "Adolph of Sluy," cried another, "has tidings by this time that he must remain within the bounds of Liege." "The little monk, too," said an old, white-headed man, of a florid, healthy complexion, which showed that time had hitherto wrestled with him nearly in vain, "the little monk, too, is trotting away on his mule towards Mierdorp, though he complained bitterly of being obliged to set out before the feast was on the table, and has carried away, in his wallet, a roasted hare from the fire, as long as my arm, and a bottle of the old Bonne that we got out of the cellar of Ambly."

"He shall feast well another time for his pains," replied the Vert Gallant, moving towards the head of the table, at which a large armed chair, like a throne, stood vacant, "he shall feast well another time for his pains, good Matthew; but we must make this stranger taste of our hospitality while the horses are saddling without. Sit down, Sir Citizen," he added, turning to Albert Maurice, "sit down, and refresh yourself before you go;" and he pointed to a vacant seat by his side.

"I thank you, sir," replied the young burgher; "but the grief I have undergone, and the anxieties I have suffered, have dulled the edge of appetite with me more than the banquet of a prince could have done; and I would fain see myself once more upon my road to Ghent, if such be the fate intended for me."

"Ha! ha!" exclaimed the old man whom we have before noticed. "See what frail things these townsmen are, that a little anxiety and fear should take away their appetite; but thou wilt drink, good friend, if thou wilt not eat. Here, merry men all, fill to the brim, and drink with me to our noble leader, 'Here's to the Vert Gallant of Hannut!'"

The proposal was like an electric shock to all. Each man started on his feet, and with loud voice and overflowing cup, drank, "To the Vert Gallant of Hannut! and may the sword soon restore to him what the sword took from him!"

"Thank you, my friends, thank you," replied the Vert Gallant, as soon as their acclamation had subsided; "I drink to you all. May I need your aid and not find it, when I forget you!" and so saying, he raised the visor of his helmet sufficiently to allow himself to bring the cup to his lip. The eye of the young burgher fixed eagerly upon him, anxious, as may be well supposed, to behold the countenance of a man holding such an extraordinary station. What was his surprise, however, when the small degree in which the leader of the green riders suffered his face to appear, exposed to view the countenance of a negro.



Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

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