Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent. G. P. R. James

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СКАЧАТЬ if for some person who was not present, but who was held by his companions in a high degree of respect. After governing his curiosity for some time, that most unrestrainable of all human passions got the better of him; and by some sidelong questions he endeavoured to ascertain for whom this reservation was made.

      "Oh no! no, no!" replied the personage who had hitherto acted as the leader of the freebooters, "we must not touch that; it is put by for our captain, who will be here presently, and will tell us," he added, with a malicious grin, as he played upon the apprehensions of the good citizen--"and will tell us what we are to do with thee and thine, good Master Martin Fruse. Thou art not the first syndic of the weavers, I trow, who has dangled from a beam; and one could not choose a more airy place to hang in, on a summer's day."

      Though Martin Fruse perceived that there was a touch of jest at the bottom of his companion's speech, yet the very thought of dangling from a beam--a fate which the Duke of Burgundy was fully as likely to inflict upon a rebellious subject, as the most ferocious freebooter upon a wandering traveller--caused a peculiar chilly sensation to pucker up his whole skin; but, as his danger from the robbers was the more pressing and immediate of the two, he applied himself strenuously to demonstrate, that it was both unjust and unreasonable to hang a man either to beam or bough, after having abetted him in making himself very comfortable in the world in which God had placed him. There was something in the arguments he deduced from capon and hock, together with the terror that he evidently felt, and a degree of childish simplicity of manner, which made the freebooters roar with laughter; and they were just indulging in one of these merry peals, when a sudden rustle on the bank over their head gave notice that some one was approaching.

      "Hold by the roots, boy!" cried a rough voice above. "Here! Set your foot there. Now jump: as far as you can. That's right! Cleared it, by St. George! Now, slip down. So here we are."

      As he spoke the last words, Matthew Gournay, followed by young Hugh of Gueldres, stood within one pace of the spot where the freebooters had been regaling. Two or three of the latter had started up to welcome him, holding high one of the torches, to light his descent; and as he came forward, his eye ran over the evidences of their supper, and the party who had partaken of it, with some degree of surprise.

      "How now, my merry men?" he cried, laughing. "Ye have had some sport, it would seem; but, by our Lady! I hope ye have left me a share, and something for this poor lad, who is dying of hunger."

      "Plenty, plenty for both," replied many of the voices; "that is to say, enough for one meal at least; the next we must find elsewhere."

      "But here are some Gandois traders," added one of the party, "waiting your awful decree, and trembling in every limb lest they should be hanged upon the next tree."

      "God forbid!" replied Matthew Gournay. "We will put them to light ransoms, for rich citizens. Who is the first? Stand up, good man. What! Martin Fruse!" he exclaimed, starting back, as the light fell upon the face of the burgher. "My old friend, Martin Fruse, in whose house I lodged when I came to teach the men of Ghent how to get up a tumult! Little did I think I should so soon have thee under contribution."

      "Nay, nay, good Master Gournay," replied the burgher, "right glad am I to see thee. In truth, I thought I had fallen into worse hands than thine. I know well enough," he added, with a somewhat doubtful expression of countenance, notwithstanding the confidence which his words implied--"I know well enough that thou hast no heart to take a ransom from thine old companion."

      "Faith but thou art wrong, Martin," replied Matthew Gournay, laying his heavy hand upon the citizen's shoulder. "Thine own ransom shall be light, and that of thy comrades also, for thy sake; but something we must have, if it be but to keep up good customs. A trifle, a mere trifle: a benevolence, as our good kings call it in England, when they take it into their heads to put the clergy to ransom."

      "Nay, but," said Martin Fruse, whose confidence and courage were fully restored by the sight of his friend's face; "nay, but consider that I was taken while journeying for the sole purpose of conferring with thee and Adolph of Gueldres concerning the general rising we purposed."

      "Well, well, we will speak further hereafter," answered Matthew Gournay. "That job is all over for the present; and as, doubtless, the duke has heard of our doings, it may go hard with your purses, and with my neck, if he catch us, which please God he shall not do. But we must think of some way of getting you all back to Ghent in safety. Now, Halbert of the hillside," he added, addressing one of his old band, who was probably an Englishman like himself, "hie thee to the midway oak. Thou wilt there find the old seneschal. Tell him all is safe! Bid him tarry there till to-morrow, collecting all our friends that come thither; and, in the meantime, to send me the leathern bottles from the hollow tree. These flimsy flasks furnish scarce a draught for a boy; and, good faith, I will be merry to-night, whatever befall to-morrow. Up the bank, up the bank," he continued; "'tis but a quarter of a mile that way."

      While the messenger was gone in search of the fresh supply of wine which the leathern bottles implied, Matthew Gournay, and the young companion, whom he had brought with him, despatched the provisions which had been saved by the very miraculous abstinence of the freebooters; and at the same time the two flasks of Rhenish disappeared with a celerity truly astonishing. Four capacious bottles, holding about a gallon each, were soon after added to the supply, and all present were called upon to partake.

      A scene of merriment and joy then succeeded, which would be impossible to describe; such, indeed, as perhaps no men ever indulged in whose lives were not held by so uncertain a tenure, whose moments of security were not counterbalanced by so many hours of danger, and whose pleasures were not bought by so many labours and pains, that it became their only policy to quaff the bowl of joy to the very dregs, while it was yet at their lips, lest, at the first pause, circumstance, that unkind step-dame, should snatch it angrily from their hands for ever. The final explosion of their merriment was called forth by good Martin Fruse, who, after showing many signs and symptoms of weary drowsiness, declared that he should like to go to bed, and asked, with much simplicity, where he was to sleep.

      "Sleep!" exclaimed Matthew Gourney, "sleep! Why where the fiend would you sleep?"

      "I mean, where's your house, good Master Matthew Gournay?" rejoined Martin Fruse, with open eyes, from which all expression was banished by surprise at finding his question a matter of laughter, he knew not why. "It's all very well to sup in the wood in a fine summer night; but it's growing late and cold, and I do think we had better a great deal get us to our warm beds."

      The only answer which he received to this speech, from the robbers, was a new peal of laughter; but, at the same moment, his nephew plucked him by the sleeve, exclaiming, "Hist, uncle! ye only make the knaves grin; you may sleep where you are, or not sleep at all for this night. Have you not heard how these men covet no covering but the green boughs of the forest?"

      "Thou art somewhat malapert, young sir," said Matthew Gournay, fixing upon him a glance into which various parts of the boy's speech, not very respectful to the freebooters, had called up a degree of fierceness that was not the general expression of his countenance; "thou art somewhat malapert; and, if thy uncle follow my advice, he will make thy shoulders now and then taste of the cloth-yard measure, else thou wilt mar his fortune some fine day. The boy says true, however, good Martin; here sleepest thou this night, if thou sleepest at all; so get thee under yonder bank, with that broad oak tree above thy head, to guard thee from the westerly wind, and thank Heaven thou hast so fair a canopy. There, wrap thy cloak about thee; ask God's blessing, and sleep sound. To-morrow I will wake thee early, to talk of what may best be done to speed thee on thy way in safety; for many of the duke's bands are about; and without we can get thee some good escort, thou art like to be in the same plight as the ass, who, running away from a dog, fell in with a lion."

      Although Martin Fruse believed himself to be as wise as any man that ever СКАЧАТЬ