CHAPTER XXIX.
A day intervened: but at noon on that which followed, an immense, dense crowd was assembled in the open space before the town-house of Ghent. Nevertheless, though the multitude was perhaps greater than ever the Square of St. Pharaïlde had contained before, there was a stillness about it all, which spoke that men were anticipating some great event. Each one who spoke addressed his neighbour in that low tone which argues awe: but by far the greater part of the people remained perfectly silent, with their eyes turned towards the town-house, immediately in front of which stood a scaffold, hung with black cloth, supporting two low blocks of wood, and surrounded by a large party of the burgher guard. A still larger body of the same troops kept the space between the scaffold and the public building before which it was placed; and, in all, the armed force present seemed more than sufficient to keep order and overawe the evil-disposed. In fact, the regular municipal power had been increased to an extraordinary degree during the last fortnight, both by an extended levy amongst the citizens themselves, and by the raising of a number of extraordinary companies from amongst the peasantry of the neighbouring districts, joined to all such disbanded soldiers as were willing to enrol themselves under the banners of the commune. The trained force thus at the disposal of the town-council of Ghent amounted to at least seven thousand men, and, on the morning of which we speak, a great part of this body were drawn up between the town-house and the scaffold, and in the main court of the building.
At the same time, it is to be remarked, that almost all the burghers, and a number of the peasantry of the country round about, had provided themselves with warlike weapons, since the first disturbances which followed the death of the duke; so that the multitude which thronged the space before the town-house appeared universally in arms. The principal weapons with which they had furnished themselves were long pikes; and any one gazing over the market-place might have fancied it crowded by an immense body of dismounted lancers; but, at the same time, a number of the more wealthy were provided with swords also; and one or two appeared more in the guise of regular men-at-arms than simple citizens.
It was remarked that amidst the assembly were a number of persons with somewhat hard features and weather-beaten countenances, habited in the ordinary dress of peasants, but in general better armed than the rest of the people. These men seemed to have but few acquaintances in the town, but wherever any two of them met, they appeared instantly to recognise each other; and, by a quiet, unobtrusive, but steady movement forward, they gradually made their way one by one through the crowd, to the immediate vicinity of the scaffold. Another circumstance, also, was noticed by those persons in the crowd who employed all their vacant moments in looking about them, which was, that, close to the head of one of the bands of the burgher guard, and conversing from time to time with the officer who commanded it, appeared a young man of a powerful and active form, dressed as a common man-at-arms, with the beaver of his helmet, at what was called the half-spring; in short, so far open as to give him plenty of air, yet not sufficiently thrown up to expose his face.
In those days, it must be remembered that the appearance of men in armour had nothing extraordinary in it, either in the country or the town, and consequently such a sight was not at all uncommon in the streets of Ghent at any time; but it had become far more so since the burghers had assumed the authority they now claimed, as not a few of the rich young merchants, every now and then, chose to ape the nobles, whom they were desirous of overthrowing; and would appear in the streets, clothed, like the ghost of Hamlet's father, in complete steel.
Whether the captain of the band to whom the stranger addressed himself, was or was not previously acquainted with the man-at-arms, he seemed well pleased with his company, which certainly somewhat tended to relieve the irksome anticipation of a disagreeable duty. Their conversation, however, soon appeared to turn upon more important matters; and they spoke quick and eagerly, though in so low a tone, that only a few words of what they said reached the bystanders.
"I wish them no ill, poor wretches, God knows," the captain of the band was heard to say, in reply to something the other had whispered the moment before. Two or three indistinct sentences succeeded; and then, he again answered, "If any one would begin, I would follow! we have as good a right to a say in the matter as any one else."
Again the man-at-arms spoke with him rapidly; and the other rejoined in a low and hurried tone--"Stay! I will see what the men say! Stand back, sir!" he added, pushing back, angrily, one of the crowd, who intruded upon the open space, and came within earshot. He then walked leisurely along the file of men that he commanded, speaking a few words, now to one, now to another; and then, turning back with an air of assumed indifference, he said to the person with whom he had before been speaking, "It will do! They do not want any more blood spilt. They are all murmuring, to a man. Go and talk with the captain on the other side."
While this was passing in the immediate vicinity of the scaffold, several of the persons I have described as looking like weather-beaten peasants, had, in making their way through the crowd, paused to speak with a number of the citizens; at first asking some questions in regard to the multitude, and the dark preparations before the town-house, as if ignorant of what had lately taken place in the city. They then generally proceeded to comment on the reply made to them; and then something was always said about the shame and horror of staining their market-place with public executions for state crimes which the events of a few weeks might render no crimes at all.
Thus, one of them demanded of a fat burgher, by whom he passed, "Why, what is the matter, neighbour? This looks as if they were going to cut off some one's head."
"And so they are, to be sure," replied the citizen. "They are going to do execution upon the Lord of Imbercourt, and Hugonet the Chancellor, who were condemned this morning for treating with France and receiving bribes."
"Ay, did they receive bribes?" rejoined the peasant: "that is strange enough; for I always thought that they were as free and liberal of their gold to those who needed it, as any men living, and coveted nothing belonging to another; and those are not the sort of men, I have heard say, who usually receive bribes."
"Ay, that is true enough, indeed!" answered the citizen, with a sigh.
"But did they really receive bribes?" persevered the peasant. "Was it clearly proved?"
"No, no, I believe not," replied the citizen. "Proof they could not get--proof they could not get; but there was strong suspicion."
"'Tis hard a man should die for mere suspicion, though; for who would be safe if that were law?" said the other. "If I had been one of them, I would have appealed to the King of France and court of peers."
"Why, so they both did," replied the citizen; "but they are to die for all that."
"Then I would not be a citizen of Ghent for ten thousand crowns," answered the peasant; "for, by the Lord! Louis and his peers will be like to hang every one of them that he catches; and it is a sad thing to be hanged for spilling innocent blood. Were I one of the citizens of Ghent, they should never stain the market-place in such a way while I had a voice to raise against it."
"Ay, ay, it is very sad!" said the citizen: "and I dare say if any one would begin, many a man would cry out against it too."
"Well, well," answered the other, "I must forward, and see what is going on; and I hope some one will cry out against it."
Thus speaking, the peasant, as he seemed to be, pushed his way on for a little distance, and then, pausing by another of the citizens, held with him a short conversation, like that which we have just narrated, asking very nearly the same questions, and making very nearly the same observations on the answers he received.
The instance which has just been particularized was only one out of many; for in every part of the crowd were to be seen persons similar in appearance to the man whose conversation we have just detailed, and who acted precisely upon the same plan, though the words they made use of might be slightly different. The man-at-arms who, as we have mentioned, had been talking with the captain of one of the city bands, in accordance with the intimation he had received, was, in the meantime, making his way round to speak with the person who commanded the company at the other side of the scaffold. As, in his apparent military capacity, he strode boldly across the space kept clear in front of the scaffold, and consequently encountered none of the impediments which might have delayed him, had he attempted to proceed through the crowd, he would, probably, soon have accomplished this purpose; but at that moment a considerable noise and disturbance was heard in the direction of the town-house, mingled with shouts of "They are coming! They are coming!"
The ear of the man-at-arms immediately caught the sound. He paused for a single instant; and then taking a step back to a spot whence he could descry the intermediate space between the scaffold and the town-house, he saw a body of people moving from the principal entrance of that edifice, through a double line of the burgher guard. The procession consisted of a number of the municipal council, a body of various officers of state, Maillotin du Bac the Prevot marechal, two executioners with naked axes, and the unfortunate nobles Imbercourt and Hugonet, bound and bare-headed.
The man-at-arms instantly perceived that he would not have time to accomplish what he proposed; and with three strides he placed himself once more by the side of the officer with whom he had before been speaking. Gathered at the same point were, by this time, at least a hundred and fifty of the peasant-looking men whom we have before described; and, forcing their way through the crowd in every direction, with no longer any affectation of ceremony, or regard to the convenience of those they thrust out of their way, there appeared a number of others perfectly similar in appearance. The eyes of the whole of this distinct body were evidently turned upon the man-at-arms; and it was observed that the one who stood nearest to him held something enveloped in the flap of his coarse brown coat, as if to be given at a moment's notice.
"Now," said the man-at-arms, addressing the captain of the burgher guard, "do your duty as a brave man, as a good citizen, and more, as a good Christian, and you shall have plenty of support."
"But who are you?" demanded the captain of the guard, eyeing him eagerly; "who are you, who so boldly promise support in such a case as this?"
"I am the Vert Gallant of Hannut," replied the man-at-arms; and at the same moment, stretching back his hand to the peasant behind him, he received a broad green scarf and plume, the one of which he fastened instantly in his casque, and waved the other, for a moment, high in the air before he threw it over his shoulder.
The signal had an instantaneous effect. The brown coarse coats of the peasants were thrown off, and they appeared armed in steel corslets and brassards, while the distinctive marks of the well-known Green Riders of Hannut were seen boldly displayed in the midst of the streets of Ghent. Although where each of these men was making his way onward, and at the point where so many had already congregated, this sudden change occasioned a considerable sensation; yet the great body of the crowd was agitated by so many different feelings, and the tumult was at that moment so great, that the transaction did not attract general attention. Almost every one throughout the multitude was, indeed, moved by sensations of his own; and each nearly at once gave voice to those feelings, as his eye happened to catch different points in the scene that was passing in the square.
"They are coming! they are coming!" shouted some. "Where? Where?" exclaimed others. "Who the devil are these?" cried those who saw the green riders. "Death to the enemies of Ghent!" vociferated the fierce. "Poor wretches! will no mercy be shown to them!" said the pitiful. "What a large axe! How pale they look! Who are those behind?" cried others of the crowd.
In the meanwhile the mournful procession came on. The new eschevins of Ghent, elected by the people themselves, mounted the scaffold, and ranged themselves around, to see the sentence they had lately pronounced carried into execution. The two executioners took their places by the blocks, and leaned the axes which they bore against them, while they made themselves ready to go through the preparatory part of their sad function. The condemned nobles followed after; and several members of the municipal council--but Albert Maurice was not amongst them--closed the whole, and occupied the only vacant space left at the back of the scaffold. At the same moment a gentleman in splendid arms, half concealed under a surcoat of costly embroidery, followed by a number of richly-dressed attendants, forced his way rudely through the crowd, and thrust himself close to the foot of the scaffold, on the opposite side to that where the Vert Gallant had placed himself. He then crossed his arms upon his broad, bull-like chest, and stood gazing upon the awful scene that was proceeding above, with a look of ruthless satisfaction.
The Lord of Imbercourt at once advanced to the front of the scaffold, and gazed round upon the multitude before him. He was very pale, it is true; but his step was as firm as when he strode the council-chamber in the height of his power: and not a quiver of the lip, not a twinkle of the eyelid, betrayed that there was such a thing as fear at his heart.
"Must I die with my hands tied, like a common felon?" he said, addressing the executioner.
"Not if your lordship is prepared to die without offering resistance," replied the other.
"I am prepared, sir," answered Imbercourt, "to die as I have lived, calmly, honestly, fearlessly."
The executioner began to untie his hands; and the Vert Gallant, giving one glance round the crowd, apparently to ascertain the proximity of his followers, drew forward his sword-belt, and loosened the weapon in the sheath. Imbercourt, at the same time, was advancing as far as possible, as if to address the people, and the whole multitude, seeing it, kept a profound silence; when suddenly, in the midst of the still hush--just as the Vert Gallant of Hannut was passing round the head of the file of burgher guards, till he was within a few steps of the scaffold itself--a sweet and plaintive voice, which would have been inaudible under any other circumstances, was heard from amongst the crowd exclaiming, "Oh, let me pass! for God's sake, let me pass! They are murdering my faithful servants. Let me pass; in pity, in mercy let me pass!"
"It is the princess! it is the princess!" cried a number of voices: "let her pass! let her pass!" and, by an involuntary movement of feeling and compassion, the people drew hastily back on either side, and Mary of Burgundy, in the deep mourning of an orphan, with her bright hair escaped from her veil, and flowing wide over her shoulders, her face deluged in tears, and her hands clasped in agony, rushed forward into the open space, and, casting herself upon her knees before the people of Ghent, exclaimed aloud the only words she could utter, "Oh, spare them--spare them!"[[9]]
"Yes, yes," cried an honest burgher from the crowd, "we will spare them. Out upon it! has not the prince always had power to show mercy? Hark ye, neighbours, pikes and swords for Martin Fruse! On upon the scaffold! We will save them!"
"Back, false citizen; back!" cried the cavalier in the glittering dress we have described. "What, would you interrupt the course of justice! By the sun in heaven, they shall die the death!" and, drawing his sword, he threw himself between the people and the scaffold.
All was now tumult and confusion; and in one instant it seemed us if a general spirit of civil strife had seized upon every part of the multitude. Some shouted, "Mercy for them! mercy for them!" Some, "Justice! justice! slay the traitors!" Pikes were crossed, and swords were drawn on all sides. The burgher guards were as divided as the people. Mary of Burgundy was borne fainting behind the scaffold; and those upon the scaffold itself seemed paralysed by surprise and fear. But the green scarfs and burgonets of the Riders of Hannut were seen forcing their way forward through the press, in spite of all opposition; and at the same moment the thundering voice of the Vert Gallant was heard rising above everything else: "On, on to the scaffold, friends of mercy!" he cried. "Lord of Imbercourt, cast yourself over, you are amongst friends!"
Imbercourt might have done so; but he was instantly seized by Maillotin du Bac, and one of the executioners, who unhappily awoke from their first consternation in time to prevent him from seizing the opportunity which was unexpectedly presented to him.
The Vert Gallant, however, pushed forward, sword in hand. All gave way, or went down before him; the pikes opposed to his breast shivered like withered boughs beneath his arm; and he was within a yard of the spot where Imbercourt stood, when he was encountered, hand to hand, by the cavalier we have before mentioned; and each found that he had met an enemy very different from the burghers by whom they were surrounded. Each was powerful and skilful; but the Vert Gallant had, by more than twenty years, the advantage of his adversary; and feeling that the fate of Imbercourt must be decided in the twinkling of an eye--for the guards and executioners were forcing him down to the block--he showered his blows upon his adversary with a thundering rapidity that in a moment brought him upon his knees. He was still, however, between the young cavalier and the scaffold; and, fierce with the eagerness of the encounter, Hugh of Gueldres drew back his arm, to plunge the point of his sword into the throat of his opponent, when the voice of one of the cavalier's attendants exclaimed aloud, "Save the duke! For God's sake, save the Duke of Gueldres! Forbear! forbear!"
The Vert Gallant paused, gazing upon his prostrate enemy, with feelings that can be understood, when it is remembered that it was his own father, who, beaten down by his superior strength, lay within an inch of his sword's point, raised for the purpose of terminating their struggle by a parent's death. His eyes grew dim, his brain reeled, the sword dropped from his hand, and he fell back upon the pavement, without power or consciousness.
At the same moment, the axe of the executioner swung high in the air; there was a dull, heavy blow, a rush of dark blood poured over the scaffold, and the Lord of Imbercourt was no more.