The two women began anew to prepare lint and bandages, while the young apprentices, resuming their work with renewed ardor, continued shafting the iron pikes.
CHAPTER VII.
"TO ARMS, COMMUNIERS!"
An ever increasing crowd flowed into the market-place. Not now, as on the previous day, did joy and the breath of security brighten the faces of men, women and children gathering to celebrate the inauguration of the communal Town Hall and belfry, the symbol of the emancipation of the inhabitants. No; neither women nor children assisted at this gathering, so different from the first. Only the men met, sombre, uneasy, some determined, others crestfallen, and all foreseeing the approach of a public danger. Assembled in large groups around the pillars of the market-place, the communiers discussed the latest tidings—not yet known by Fergan at the time when, in the company of his son, he left his house—significant and alarming tidings. The watchmen on the towers, between which one of the gates of the city opened on a promenade that extended between the ramparts and the episcopal palace, had seen a large troop of woodmen serfs and colliers, with Thiegaud, the bandit and favorite of Bishop Gaudry, march into the palace at daybreak. A short time after daybreak, the King, accompanied by his knights and men-at-arms, had also retired into the fortified dwelling of the prelate, leaving Laon by the south gate, which the sentinels had not dared to refuse to open to the royal cavalcade. The courtiers of the King having warned him that the inhabitants of the city had been up all night, and that the blacksmiths' and locksmiths' anvils had constantly rung under the hammer in the manufacture of a large number of pikes, such preparations of defence, such a nocturnal excitement, all so contrary to the peaceful habits of the townsmen, awoke the royal suspicions and fears, and he had hastened to transfer his quarters to the episcopal palace, where he considered himself safer. Instructed on the departure of the Prince, the Mayor, John Molrain had himself run to the episcopal palace, where admission was refused him. Foreseeing as much, the Mayor had provided himself with a letter to the abbot counselor of the King, in which Molrain repeated his propositions of the previous day, and implored the King to accept them in the name of public peace. Molrain added that the Commune held the promised sum at the disposal of the King. To a letter so wisely framed and so conciliating, the King sent for answer that in the morning the inhabitants of Laon would be apprized of his pleasure. During that same night, it had been noticed in the city that the episcopals, entrenched in their fortified and solidly barricaded houses, had frequently exchanged signals among themselves by means of torches placed at their windows and alternately lighted and extinguished. These alarming tidings demolished almost completely the hope of an accommodation, and threw the communiers into a state of increasing anxiety. The Councilmen had been the first to appear at the market-place, where they were soon joined by the Mayor. The latter, grave and resolute, ordered silence, mounted one of the stands in the deserted stalls and said to the crowd:
"The eighth hour of the day will soon sound. I have ordered the messenger of the King to be allowed into the city when he presents himself at the gate. The King and the bishop have ordered us to meet here, at the market-place, to hear their pleasure. We prefer to receive the royal message at our Town Hall. That is the seat of our power. The more that power is contested from us, all the more zealous should we show ourselves in holding it high."
The Mayor's proposition was received with acclamation, and while the crowd followed the magistrates, Fergan and his son, commissioned to wait for the King's messengers, saw Archdeacon Anselm approaching with hurried steps. Thanks to his goodness and his uprightness, the prelate was beloved and venerated by all. Making a sign to the quarryman to draw near, he said to him in an agitated voice: "Will you join me in an endeavor to avert the frightful misfortunes that this city is threatened with?"
"The King has not, then, been moved even by the last sacrifice that we imposed upon ourselves? He refused the offer of John Molrain?"
"The bishop, learning that the Mayor had offered the King a considerable sum for the re-confirmation of your charter, offered Louis the Lusty twice as much to abolish the Commune, and promised rich presents to the King's counselors."
"And the King gave ear to such an infamous auction sale?"
"He gave ear to the suggestions of his own cupidity. He listened to the counselors that surround him, and he accepted the bishop's offer."
"The oath that Louis the Lusty took, his signature, his seal affixed to our charter—all that is then nullified?"