"Well, wait till he comes," answered the young nobleman; "for though you might be able to set yourself right at last, yet you would ill brook imprisonment, I wot; and perhaps even the Count might not be able to save you from these people's hands, if you were found just now. They are a furious and unruly set; and the priests have got syndics and magistrates of all kinds on their side."
"I have heard tales of their doings," replied Richard of Woodville; "but I cannot bring myself to fear them. However, I will, of course, obey the Count's commands, and wait here till he is pleased to send for me."
"I will bear you company," replied the young Lord of Lens, "for I love not the presence of these foul citizens; and heaven knows how long they may stay with their orations, as lengthy and as flat as one of their own pieces of cloth."
To say the truth, Richard of Woodville would have preferred to be alone; but he did not choose to mortify the good-humoured young lord by suffering him to perceive that his presence was a restraint; and, sometimes in grave conversation, sometimes in light, they passed nearly an hour; till at length numerous sounds from the court-yard gave notice that the deputation of the good citizens was taking its departure. For half an hour more they waited, in the expectation of soon receiving some messenger from the Count de Charolois, but none appeared; and at length Richard of Woodville besought his companion to seek some intelligence. The young nobleman readily undertook the task, and opened the door to go out; but, on the very threshold, was met by the Count himself, followed by the Lord of Croy. The expression of the Prince's countenance was grave and troubled; and, seating himself, he made a sign to the rest to do so likewise; and then, looking at Woodville with an anxious and careful smile, he said, "This is an awkward business, my friend."
"If told truly, it is a very simple one, my lord the Count," replied the knight.
"It may be simple, yet have very dangerous results," said the young Prince, gravely. "These men of Ghent are not to be meddled with lightly; and, though their insolence must some day be checked--and shall--yet this is not the time to do it. It seems, by their account, that you brought a pretty light-o'-love maiden with you hither from England; and that she having been found, with a number of other heretics, worshipping, they assert, the devil himself, who was seen in proper form amongst them" (Woodville smiled); "you delivered her with the strong hand from the people sent to seize the whole party. What makes you laugh, Sir Richard?"
"Because, my good lord," replied the young knight, "you, here in Flanders, do not seem to understand monks and priests so well as we do in England. They have made a fair story of it, which is almost all false. I am as good a catholic as any of them, though I have not had my head shaved. I believe all that the Church tells me, for I doubt not that the Church knows best; but I can't help seeing that she has got a great number of knaves amongst her ministers."
"But what is the truth of the story, sir knight?" said the Lord of Croy. "I told the Count that I was sure they had made a mountain of a molehill."
"Thanks, my good lord," answered Woodville. "The truth is simply this: the poor girl is a good and sincere catholic, and has been bitterly tried; for many of her relations are what we call Lollards, a sort of heretics like your Hussites, and she has steadfastly resisted all their false notions. She was persecuted and ill-treated in England, by a base and unworthy man--a knight, heaven save the mark!--one Sir Simeon of Roydon, now banished from the English court for his ill-treatment of her. She, having relations in this land--amongst others Nicholas Brune, your goldsmith, sir--quitted London to join them. I found her in the same ship which brought me over; and, in Christian charity and common courtesy, gave her protection on the way. She is no light-o'-love, my lord, but a good and honest maiden; and I would be the last to sully her purity by word or deed. As soon as I reached Ghent, and found out where her cousin dwelt, I placed her safely under his roof, and thought of her no more, accompanying you to Lille. A servant, however, whom I left with my baggage and some spare horses here in Ghent--a clever knave, but a great rogue--was smitten, it seems, by her beauty on the way, and went often to see her. On my return, while I was speaking with Sir John Grey in the street, this man came up importunately, and told me, if I did not save her, she was lost. Hurrying along with him to gather my men together, I found that a certain monk or friar, named Brother Paul, had combined with others, of whom I have since discovered this Simeon of Roydon was one, to seize upon the poor girl, with the whole party of her friends, at a heretic meeting in the old Linen-weavers' Hall. On their promise to give her up to him, this scoundrel servant of mine, Dyram, had betrayed to the cunning monks at what hour the assembly was to be held; but, when he asked for the securities they had promised, that she should be placed in his hands, they laughed him to scorn. He is a persevering knave, however, and, by one means or another, gained a knowledge of all their proceedings and intentions, and found that they had dressed up one of their varlets as the arch-enemy, covering him with the skin of a black cow, and setting the horns upon his head. This mummer was to be placed under the table in the hall--as doubtless he was, for I saw something of the figure when I went in--and as soon as it grew dusk, he was to rise up amongst the heretics, giving a sign for the others to rush in. Knowing the girl to be a catholic, as I have said, and free from all taint of this heresy--"
"Then why went she thither?" demanded the Count de Charolois.