Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

The torrent of business in which Albert Maurice found himself involved, had occupied his time in such a manner as hardly to permit of his giving much attention to the tumultuous assemblages which took place, during the day, in various parts of the city. Popular leaders, indeed, are apt to attach too little importance to those commotions which, being frequently raised by themselves with ease and rapidity, they fancy they can allay with the same facility and power; but a time comes when they are to be undeceived, and it was approaching with Albert Maurice. Towards two o'clock the young citizen had addressed the people in the market-place, and had easily induced them disperse, by informing them that the princess had most generously granted them, of her own accord, all that they could desire. He had then, in the belief that all the other crowds would melt away, in the same manner, before night, retired to his own dwelling; and, in the most remote and noiseless apartment which it contained, had proceeded to make, with rapidity and decision, all those arrangements on which depended the defence of the city against external enemies, and the predominance of the popular party within its walls. He wrote at length to all the municipal councils of the various towns in Flanders; he took measures for organizing a considerable national force; he sent express orders to the guard at all the gates, to refuse admission to any party of armed men; and he issued orders for the fabrication of arms as speedily as possible, in order that the citizens might be found in a state of preparation, if the privileges and liberty they had regained should be menaced from without.

Thus passed the three hours of light that remained after his return home; and busy hours they were. At length feeling himself, notwithstanding his great corporeal powers, somewhat wearied with the immense exertions which he had made, he proceeded into the garden attached to his dwelling, which formed a little terrace on the banks of the Lys. As he stood there, turning his aching brow to the cool wind, the full roar of the tumult in the city burst upon his ear, like the distant sound of a stormy sea; and, after listening for a few moments to the combination of discordant noises, which rose up from the many streets and squares, he felt at once that some great change had taken place in the popular mind since he had left the market-place; and, turning quickly back, he prepared to go forth and use all the power he knew that he possessed to restore tranquillity. At his own door, however, he was met by a boy, who instantly pronounced his name, though it was now dark, and demanded to speak with him.

"Who, and what are you, boy?" demanded the young citizen.

"I bear you a billet from a lady," replied the youth; "and you must read it directly."

"A billet from a lady!" cried Albert Maurice, with a sneer curling his handsome lip. "Go, go, my boy, this is no time for idle gallantries. Give me the note, and get thee hence; I will read it to-morrow."

"Nay, but you must read it this moment," the other answered, without giving him the note: "ay, and that in private, too," he added. "So come, good sir, go back into your house; and take it with reverence and care, for it deserves no less."

"Thou art bold enough," replied Albert Maurice; but at the same time there was something in the deportment of the boy, so unlike that of the common Love's messengers of those days, that he yielded to his desire; and, turning into the house, strode quickly to the chamber in which he had been writing, and in which a light was still burning.

The moment he had entered, the apparel of the page, and a small St. Andrew's cross, embroidered on his left breast, at once showed that he was a servant of the house of Burgundy. Instantly closing the door, Albert Maurice took the note with every sign of reverence and respect, and read it attentively by the light of the lamp. As he did so, however, his cheek flushed, and then turned pale and flushed again, and he demanded eagerly, "Who gave you this note, Sir Page?"

"The Lady Alice of Imbercourt," replied the boy; "and she bade me lead you speedily to the postern on the river."

Albert Maurice paused, and mused; and though no heart that ever beat in a human bosom knew less of fear than his, yet the ordinary calculation of danger which every one makes when engaged in enterprises of importance forced itself upon his notice, and he could not but feel that the step proposed to him was replete with peril. Was it probable, he asked himself, that the princess should send to him at that hour? And was not the dispatch of the note he held in his hand, much more likely to be part of a scheme framed by the Prevot, or some of the inferior agents of the government, in order to get the chief leader of the popular party, the president of the provisional council, into their hands, as a tie upon the people?