The English, who had never thought of letting this good meat really escape them, stared after the flying herd for a moment in blank bewilderment, and then flew in chase. But their shouting and trampling only scared the excited beasts yet more, and in a trice the whole herd had plunged into the river and were swimming to the postern.
“They be possessed!” cried an archer, “like yon swine in Holy Writ, whereof good Father John used to tell.”
“Be that tale true, then?” said another. “Sure, even a pig could ne’er be so foolish as to drown itself for nought!”
“Why, man, dost thou doubt Holy Writ?”
“Nay, not I; but since the thing befell so long ago, mayhap the tale be not true.”
“Why, Dickon, thou talk’st like a heretic or a Saracen! Heed well thy tongue, for on such matters Holy Church knoweth no jesting. Hark ye, comrade; I will give ye proof of yon tale such as would convince St. Thomas the Doubter himself. When I was but a lad, father bought a pig at Guildford Fair, and bade me lead it home. What doth Gaffer Pig but twitch the cord out of my hand, and send me sprawling in the dirt? And then he upset a child that stood by, and galloped right over an old wife and her egg-basket, breaking every egg therein, and scared the nag whereon a gay spark was riding past, whereby the spark gat a fall that brake him a rib or twain; and after all these pranks he plunged into the river and well-nigh drowned himself, even as yon swine are doing now. Now, lad, if one pig did all that of his own mind, what think ye a whole herd would do with the devil in ’em?”
Just then this theological discussion was cut short by an unexpected turn of the adventure.
As the swimming porkers neared the postern-gate, whence the unseen pig’s squeals were still issuing, it was suddenly flung open, and a light portable bridge thrust out, on to which the wild hogs clambered, vanishing through the gate—which was instantly shut on them—before the very eyes of the baffled and enraged English, while the jester bowed gracefully from the ramparts to the exasperated pursuers, and gravely thanked them for supplying the hungry town with food.
CHAPTER XXIV
Through the Darkness
Fiercely did Lancaster chafe at the mishap by which his cherished plan, so far from bringing about the fall of the town, had re-victualled it so amply that the besiegers seemed in more peril of famine than the besieged. He had sworn never to turn his back on the town till he had planted his banner on its walls; and now he seemed farther from it than ever.