The tolling or ringing of the bell of St. Martin's was always the signal for the citizens to rally against the University, and showed that some collision between clerks and townsmen had occurred. Hugh quickened his steps, having no desire to be mixed up in one of those senseless outbreaks of anger and jealousy which were constantly disturbing the peace of Oxford.
Just lately these riots had been more frequent than ever, the disturbed state of public feeling seeming in this place to take the form of incessant rioting in the streets. Several persons, both citizens and clerks, had recently been killed, and a number more injured more or less severely during the past weeks; and Hugh had heard the Constable of the Castle speak in no measured terms of the need to take stronger measures against the delinquents.
Within the last few months a new Chancellor had been appointed to the University, the celebrated Thomas de Cantilupe, who had just arrived at the University (where he had previously taken the degree of Doctor of Canon Law), and he had joined issue with the Constable for the preservation of order. Indeed he had already adventured himself into the streets to interpose between some riotous spirits of North and South who had come to blows, and had himself received some injury in seeking to pacify the insensate youths.
It was said that he was about to make some fresh regulations, in the hope of putting a stop to this perpetual nuisance; but so far his decision had not been made public, as he had been obliged to keep to his rooms till his bruises should be healed.
Hugh, however, had heard and seen enough to feel indignant at any fresh outbreak, and he quickened his steps in order to avoid any contact with a gathering crowd. Already citizens were hurrying towards Carfax, eager to learn what was betiding; several brushed past Hugh as he walked; and then, before his very eyes, a strange and terrible thing happened.
Suddenly he was aware that in a dark doorway close at hand a cowled figure was standing. Then the figure moved, and Hugh saw the glancing blade of a long, murderous stiletto flash out. It was plunged up to the hilt in the body of a citizen hurrying by towards Carfax, and the hapless man fell dead at Hugh's feet without so much as a groan.
The young man stood stupified with astonishment and horror; then in a moment he realized the peril of his own position.
"Seize him! seize him!" yelled a dozen furious voices; "he has slain one of our townsmen! Seize the murderer! Do to him as he hath done! Take him red-handed in the act, and we will see that justice is done upon him!"
"My good friends," said Hugh, looking at the angry faces surrounding him, and striving to keep his head in face of this very real peril, "I am innocent of the death of this unhappy man. I do not even know who he is. The murderer was a man disguised in the habit of a monk, loitering in yon doorway. Search, and you will find him yet, and I can testify to the blow he struck!"
Angry and excited, the crowd would scarce hear him. No such figure as he described was to be found. No one had seen a monk in the street, nor could Hugh declare in what direction he had fled after committing the crime, so bewildered had he been by the suddenness of the deed, and by its tragic sequel. His words were received with hisses of scornful discredit; the angry townsmen, some of whom were neighbours to the murdered man, clamoured more and more fiercely for the blood of the destroyer. Overhead the bell of St. Martin's swung in the air, increasing the excitement with every clang. The street was full of wrathful burghers; yells, curses, threats, rent the air. Hugh believed that in another moment the crowd would fall upon him and tear him in pieces, and had almost given himself over as lost, when a loud voice dominated the others in the throng, and yelled out lustily,—