Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

No large boat would be allowed to proceed, and therefore he was directed to seek the smallest that he could possibly find; but, at the same time, to use all his shrewdness in endeavouring to discover some boatman, who was either trustworthy by native honesty, or might be rendered secret by a bribe. The boy at once declared in reply, that he well knew a man who used to bring the duke's venison up from the woods, and whose taciturnity was so great, that those who knew him averred, he had never said ten words to anybody yet in life, nor ever would say ten words more.

In search of this very desirable person the page instantly proceeded; but, either from the darkness of the night, or from having found it difficult to wake the boatman out of his first sleep, the boy was so long in returning, that all Alice's preparations for her journey were completed, and many minutes spent in agonizing anxiety, ere he re-appeared. When he did come, however, he brought the glad tidings that all was ready; and, after taking leave of the princess, Alice of Imbercourt, with a rapid but silent step, threaded the dark and intricate passages of the palace, passed the postern unquestioned, and finding her way with difficulty through the dim and foggy air, to the steps which led towards the water, stood at length by the side of the boat. Stepping forward over some unsteady planks, she was speedily seated in the stern, with the boy beside her; the single boatman, whom they had found waiting, pushed silently away from the bank, and, in a minute after, the skiff was making its slow way through the fog, down the dull current of the Scheldt.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Although other matters of some moment might claim attention in this place, we will not interrupt the course of our narrative, but will follow, throughout her journey, the fair fugitive from the city of Ghent; as far, at least, as that journey was permitted to proceed unimpeded.

The boat glided along over the calm dull bosom of the Scheldt, with hardly any noise, except the occasional dip of the oar in the water, and the slight creaking of the gunnel as the rower plied his stroke. Every one knows that the river which, a little distance further down its stream, assumes so much importance as to be the object of intrigue, negotiation, and even war, to rival nations, presents no very imposing aspect in the neighbourhood of Ghent; but so gloomy was the moonless sky, and so dense was the heavy fog which hung over the waters, that from the moment the boat had pushed off from the quay both banks became quite invisible. The deep, misty obscurity of the atmosphere, and the profound darkness of the night, might have been a cause of terror to Alice of Imbercourt under any other circumstances; but now all apprehension of danger from the want of light and the difficulties of the navigation, was swallowed up in the fear of being overtaken or impeded in her escape; and the impenetrable veil which seemed to cover all things around her she looked upon as a blessing, in the hope that it would also conceal herself. The darkness, however, which gave this feeling of security, did not continue so completely uninterrupted as to leave her entirely without alarm. Now and then, as the boat shot past some of the warehouses, or the quays where the larger craft were moored, an indistinct dim line of light would break across the mist from lamp or lantern, hung up to show the late watcher the objects of his toil or of his anxiety; and the heart of poor Alice would beat quick with fear, lest the skiff, or those it contained, should attract the eye of any of the eager and wary citizens. But all these perils were soon past; the boatman rowed strongly and well; the slow current with which they were proceeding was not powerful enough to afford much assistance to his exertions, but still the boat skimmed swiftly over the waters, and ere long the last bridge was passed. Beyond it there extended along the banks a short suburb, terminated by scattered houses belonging to cowfeeders and gardeners, and forming a sort of brief connecting link between the wide open country and the fortified city; and further on, again, came the rich fields and meadows in the immediate vicinity of the town, blending gradually into the thick woods that at that time commenced about Heusden and Melle.

Alice's heart beat more freely, as the fresher air, the slight clearing away of the mist, the occasional lowing of the cattle, and that indescribable feeling of expanse which is only known in the country, showed her--though she could not yet see the objects on the banks--that she had passed beyond the limits of the city of Ghent. The page, too, felt the same relief, and, for the first time, ventured a whispered observation on the good fortune that had attended their movements. But Alice was still too fearful of being pursued or discovered, to utter anything but a low-toned injunction to be silent; and no further sound marked their course but the stroke of the oars, as the sturdy boatman impelled them on, unwearied, over the waters of the Scheldt.

At the distance of about three miles from the city the air became gradually less dense, and at the end of half a mile more the fog had cleared away entirely. It was still dark, but the stars afforded sufficient light to show the fair fugitive, and her companion, that they were passing through a country where the meadow and the cornfield were merging in the forest. Scattered patches of copse and underwood, mingled with fields which had been reclaimed to the use of man, came sweeping down to the banks of the river; and straight before the travellers lay a dark and shadowy track, broken into dense, heavy masses, the rounded forms of which, cutting black upon the lighter sky beyond, distinguished it as wood, from the soft sweeping lines of the uplands which in other directions marked the horizon.

There is scarcely anything on earth more gloomy and impressive than the aspect of a deep wood by night, with just sufficient light in the sky to contrast strongly with the stern body of impenetrable shade presented by the forest, and yet not enough to show any of the smaller parts into which it appears separated by day. The wood lay straight before the bow of the boat, seeming to swallow up the widening course of the Scheldt, as flowing on, it reflected here and there, the faint lines of light which it caught from the sky, and which served to mark its track, till it was lost in the sombre shadows of the trees. An indefinite feeling of dread passed through the bosom of Alice of Imbercourt as the boat cut its way on towards the dark and gloomy wilderness which the forest seemed to present at that hour of the night. She believed, indeed, that she had no cause for fear; and her own peculiar plans absolutely required that she should banish all timidity of the kind that she now felt. Some inquiry, however, was necessary, in order to guide her further movements; and, as her apprehensions of pursuit had by this time vanished, she addressed a few words to the boatman, to lead him into conversation regarding the part of the country at which they had now arrived.

"Those seem very dark and extensive woods," she said; "do we pass through them?"

"Yes, noble lady," replied the man, and struck on with more vigour than before, as if he considered the time occupied by the three words he spoke as lost to all profitable employment.