Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

"I would say nothing," answered Albert Maurice; "but--let us on our way."

"So be it, then," replied the other; "but one thing, good brother, it does not become me to go jaunting over the country with profane laymen; therefore if we are to journey forward together, you must don the frock, and draw the hood over your head, to hide that curly black hair. So turn your horse's bridle rein before we get into the village, and behind those old hawthorn bushes, I will see whether my wallet does not contain the wherewithal to make thee as good a monk as myself."

As it now became sufficiently evident to the young citizen that he was not deceived in the person whom he had addressed, he acquiesced in his proposal; and turning down a little lane to their right hand, they dismounted from their beasts behind a small, thick clump of aged thorns, and the monk soon produced, from a large leathern wallet which he carried behind him, a grey gown, exactly similar to his own, which completely covered and concealed the handsome form of the young citizen. The cowl having been drawn over his head, and the frock bound round his middle by a rope, they once more mounted; and pursuing their way together, soon found means to turn the conversation to the direct object which they had in view, with which it appeared the monk was fully acquainted.

The ice having been once broken, Albert Maurice found his companion a shrewd, intelligent man, with a strong touch of roguish humour, which, though partly concealed under an affectation of stolidity, had grown into such a habit of jesting, that it seemed scarcely possible to ascertain when he was serious, and when he was not. This, however, might be, in some degree, assumed; for it is wonderful how often deep feelings and deep designs, intense affection, towering ambition, and even egregious cunning itself, attempt to cover themselves by different shades of playful gaiety, knowing that the profundity of a deep stream is often hidden by the light ripple on its surface.

However that might be, the young citizen's new companion was anything but wanting in sense, and proved of the greatest assistance to him, by his keen foresight and knowledge of the world.

With his co-operation Albert Maurice, at the little town of Gembloux, at which he had been arrested by Maillotin du Bac, obtained full and sufficient evidence, written down by the magistrate of the place, to prove that the first squabble between himself and the prevot had arisen in a wanton aggression committed by one of the soldiers of the latter; and that before that officer had opened any of the papers in his possession, he had sworn, with a horrible oath, that for striking his follower, he would hang him over the gates of Ghent. All this was attested in due form; and satisfied that half the dangers of his situation were gone, Albert Maurice gladly turned his horse's head towards his native place. The monk still accompanied him, saying that he had orders not to leave him till he was safe within the walls of Ghent: "seeing that you are such a sweet, innocent lamb," he added, "that you are not to be trusted amongst the wolves of this world alone."

Their journey passed over, however, without either danger or difficulty; for though at Gembloux Albert Maurice had laid aside the frock, as his very inquiries would of course have made his person known, he had resumed it, by the monk's desire, as soon as they had quitted that town; and the garb procured them a good reception in all the places at which they paused upon the road.

As they approached Ghent, Father Barnabas thought fit to take new precautions; and requested his young companion to make use of the mule which he had hitherto ridden himself, while he mounted the horse. He also drew his own cowl far over his head; nor were these steps in vain, as they very soon had occasion to experience.

They reached the gates of Ghent towards sunset, on a fine clear evening, and passed through many a group of peasantry, returning from the market in the city to their rural occupations. On these the monk showered his benedictions very liberally; but Albert Maurice remarked that, as they approached a small party of soldiers near the gate, his companion assumed an air of military erectness, and caused his horse to prance and curvet like a war steed. Perhaps, had he noticed what the keen eye of the monk had instantly perceived, that two of the soldiers were examining them as they came up with more than ordinary care, he might have guessed that the object of all this parade of horsemanship was to draw attention upon himself, as a skilful conjurer forces those to whom he offers the cards to take the very one he wishes, without their being conscious of his doing so.

"Ventre Saint Gris!" cried one of the soldiers to the other, as they came near. "It must be him! That is no monk, Jenkin! He rides like a reiter--Pardi! I will see, however. Father, your cowl is awry!" he added, laying his hand upon the monk's bridle rein, and snatching at his hood as if for the sake of an insolent joke. The cowl instantly fell back under his hand, exposing the fat bald head of the friar; and the soldier, with a broad laugh, retired, disappointed, amongst his companions, suffering the young citizen, who, on the still, quiet mule, had escaped without observation, to proceed with the monk to the dwelling of good Martin Fruse, which they reached without further annoyance or interruption.