"Here," cried the tailor, "bind him! it will do no harm to keep him from mischief."
Twenty men rushed upon de Leaufort to do their leader's bidding. His eyes darted fire. "Touch me not," he cried, "caitiffs! I suffer no such indignity at your hands. Kill me, and ye will find that I can die as a brave soldier, but I cannot owe my life to dogs."
An arrow let fly grazed his cheek and drew blood.
"Bring me the man that shot that," shouted Kyrkeby; "another arrow, and it will stick from his own hulk."
While they were securing the Baron, who was obliged to submit, dozens of fellows came rushing from the house as if shot out of a catapult, tumbling over one another, carrying jewelled goblets and precious vases, casks of wine, suits of mail, and oaken chests.
Some set upon the chests and ripped them open with axes, and allowed the contents to scatter on the ground; others burst open casks of wine, and what was not soaked into the earth speedily went to make the mob the wilder.
"To the fire, to the fire, in with them," they shouted.
Some obeyed. Others first decked themselves out in the fineries and strutted up and down and cut queer capers, curious as children to know how it would feel to have a long tail dragging behind them as they walked. One fellow was seen to slip a jewelled goblet into his tunic. He was instantly jerked from his feet, and at a nod from their leader was thrown bodily on to the flames, the jewelled goblet aimed after him. The fellow screamed in agony, and some seemed taken aback, but the multitude approved, and cried out:—
"Thus do we serve all thieves."
"We are honest men, not thieves; we shall cast the jewels and the gewgaws on the flames, but it must not be said that we burn down manors only to rob their contents," cried Simon the smith.