Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

As the affairs he had to transact were of deep importance, and minutes were of the utmost consequence to success, Olivier le Dain, though by no means fond of riding at night, and not at all prepossessed in favour of the monk, consented to accept him as a guide; and the party accordingly set out. By a whispered arrangement between the respectable Count de Meulan and the captain of his escort, however, a large part of the armed attendants rode on at a sufficient distance before, to enable Oliver to make his retreat if he heard any attack upon this advanced guard; while the monk, riding between two troopers, close to the worthy barber, was held as a sort of hostage for the security of the road on which he was about to pilot them.

Father Barnabas, whether he perceived anything strange in this array or not, made no opposition, and jogged on contentedly upon his mule, chattering gaily as he went, and seasoning his discourse with various choice allusions to barbers, and basins, and beards, much more to the gratification of the men-at-arms than of Olivier le Dain.

Thus proceeded the cavalcade, till they reached the little wood of Swynaerde, near Merebek, where the road from Alost, in ancient days, crossed the Scheldt, over a wooden bridge, at which a certain pontage was charged upon each horse that passed. Here the mind of the barber ambassador was in some degree relieved, by hearing from the toll-taker, that all was quite quiet and safe, though six good miles still lay between him and Ghent, and that through a dark wood of tall trees. At the distance of about a mile from the bridge, was a red cross, marking the direction of four different roads, which there intersected each other; and the whole party paused, as it was too dark to read the information thereon inscribed, to receive the instructions of the monk. "Straight on! straight on!" cried Father Barnabas; and the first part of the escort moved forward, though somewhat nearer to the rest of the body than before; but the moment they had again resumed their march, there was a low, sharp whistle, and a sound of rushing and rustling all around them. Olivier le Dain, who was already following the van, drew in his rein; and the whistle, repeated a thousand times in different parts of the wood round about, showed him at once that his party was beset. Fear certainly was the predominant feeling in his mind; but even that very absorbing sensation did not banish a passion equally strong; and while he turned his horse's head to fly back to the bridge with all speed, he did not fail to say, in a voice but little changed from its ordinary calm and sustained tone, "We are betrayed! Kill the monk!"

But both Olivier's purpose of escape, and his desire of vengeance, were disappointed. At the very first whistle, the friar had slipped, unperceived, from his sleek mule, and, passing under the animal's belly, was no longer to be seen; and before the luckless ambassador could reach the road, which led away to the bridge, he found it occupied by armed men. To whichever side he turned, the same sight presented itself; and even on the highway leading to Ghent a still stronger party was interposed between him and the first division of his escort. Thus then he remained in the midst of the open square of the cross road, accompanied by about twelve attendants, and surrounded by a body of adventurers, which could not consist of less than one or two hundred, but which fear and darkness magnified into a much greater number.

The scene and situation were by no means pleasant. Not a sound was to be heard, but the echo of horses' feet ringing over the hard frozen ground, from which he justly inferred that the advanced party of his escort, by whom he was neither loved nor respected, finding themselves infinitely overmatched, had galloped off, leaving him to his fate; and nothing was to be seen in the darkness of the night, but the black trunks of the trees, slightly relieved by the colour of the ground, which was covered by a thin drift of snow, while a number of dim human forms appeared, occupying all the different roads; and a multitude of faint, dull spots of fire, drawn in a complete circle round him, showed the ambassador that the slow matches of the arquebusiers, into whose hands he had fallen, were prepared against resistance.

For a moment or two not a word was spoken; but at length a voice not far from him exclaimed, "Lord a' mercy! Only to think of the barber's boy of Saarvelt coming ambassador to Ghent! Lack a day! lack a day, Noll! lack a day! thou art become a mighty great man! Thou hast lathered and shaved to some purpose, ha, ha, ha!" And the voice of the monk was drowned in his own laughter, the contagious merriment of whose thick plum-porridge sounds instantly affected all around; and the whole forest rang and echoed to the peals.

"What would you, fair sirs?" demanded the soft silken tones of Olivier le Dain. "If laughter be all you seek, laugh on; but let me pass upon my way. If it be gold you want, there, take my purse; I make you welcome to it."

"A fool and his money!" cried the monk, snatching the purse. "But, 'faith! Master Noll, the barber, it is generous of you to give what you cannot keep unless we like it."

"Cease your fooling, monk!" said the stern voice of some one advancing from the wood. "Get off your horse, Sir Barber; you shall know my pleasure with you, when it suits me to tell it. And now answer me! How dare you, a low mechanical slave, presume to undertake a mission to the Duchess of Burgundy, without one drop of noble blood in your veins?"

"Your pardon, fair sir!" replied Oliver, dismounting slowly, and standing in an attitude of deprecation before the tall commanding figure by whom he was addressed; "your pardon; I was rendered noble by my sovereign lord the king, for the very purpose, as his letters patent will show."