Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

Yet, as he gazed upon the billet, it was evidently a woman's writing; and as he re-read the contents there was something in it all which put prudence and caution to flight at once. Was not the very name of Mary of Burgundy enough? To be requested by her to visit her dwelling in secrecy and disguise! to see her, to speak with her in private! to bask in the light of those beautiful eyes! to hear that soft and thrilling voice! The very hope was worth all the perils that ever knight or paladin encountered; and his re-perusal of the billet determined him at once to go.

Where to find some speedy means of disguising his person was his next thought; but then, immediately remembering the monk's grey gown in which he had already travelled so far, and which, by some accident, had been left behind by his former guide, he instantly sought it out, stripped off the furred robe which he had worn through the day, and buckling on a sword and poniard under the frock, strode on after the page, with that increased feeling of security which we all experience when we know that we have the means about us of selling our lives dearly, happen what will in the course before us.

"Better follow at a short distance behind, good father," said the boy, as they proceeded into the street; "you know your way towards the back of the Cours du Prince. If we go separate we shall the better escape notice, and you will find me on the narrow path beneath the walls."

As he spoke thus, he darted away, and Albert Maurice followed with the hurried step of excitement and expectation. It was now completely dark; and passing onward along the quay of the canals, and through one or two of the many large squares of Ghent, he soon saw enough of popular feeling to make him anxious to resume a garb in which he might take measures for repressing the turbulent spirit that was every moment gaining ground. At the corner of each of the larger streets immense bonfires, blazing and crackling in the chill air, at once lighted, and warmed, and excited the multitudes that assembled round them. But this was not all; wine, and ale too, that genuine Flemish beverage, were circulating rapidly amongst the crowds of men and women, whose class and appearance did not at all warrant the supposition that their own means could procure, even on an extraordinary occasion, such copious supplies of dear and intoxicating liquors. All this excited a suspicion in the mind of Albert Maurice, that some unseen agency was at work, to rouse the people to a far higher pitch than he wished or had expected; and at the same time, he felt that such scenes of tumultuous rejoicing on the news of the loss of a great battle, and the death of their bold and chivalrous sovereign, was indecent in itself, and must be bitter, indeed, to the child of the dead prince. Such sights, of course, increased his speed; and hastening on as fast as possible, he soon found himself upon the narrow ledge of land between the fortified wall of the palace and the river. But he was alone; the page was nowhere to be seen; and Albert Maurice began to suspect he had been deceived; but, a moment after, the appearance of the boy, hurrying up as fast as his less powerful limbs permitted, soon showed him that his own anxious haste had outstripped even the page's youthful activity.

Although a sentry paraded the wall above, with his slow match lighted, no challenge was given; and three sharp taps upon the postern door soon caused it to fly open, and admit them within the walls of the building. An inferior officer of the guard stood by, and held a lantern to the face of the page as he entered. The boy endured his scrutiny quietly; but, to the surprise of the young citizen, he found that the appearance of the page was received as a passport for himself. The officer withdrew the lantern without farther comment, as soon as he had satisfied himself in regard to the boy's person, and suffered Albert Maurice and his conductor to enter the palace.

Up long and manifold staircases--through innumerable doors and interminable passages, the page led the leader of the Gandois, and only stopped at length, when both were out of breath, at a small, deep doorway, where he knocked before he entered, making a sign to Albert Maurice to pause. The boy was then told to come in, and remained within for some minutes, while the young burgher continued in the dark passage, his heart beating, as he thought of his near meeting with Mary of Burgundy, with that thrill of expectation which would seem to partake of the nature of fear, were it not almost always mingled in some way with feelings not only of hope, but of joy.

After a time the boy returned; and, leading the young burgher to another door, he threw it open, and admitted him into an apartment fitted up with all the ostentatious splendour for which Charles of Burgundy had been famous in the decoration of his palaces. It seemed to have been a room peculiarly allotted to that prince's leisure moments; for all around hung various implements of sylvan sport, each ornamented in some way with the arms of Burgundy, and piled up against the walls in the manner of trophies.

There is something strangely solemn in entering the chamber of one lately dead. It seems more empty, more vacant and cold, than when its master, though absent, is living. It appeals to our own feelings and connects itself, by the thin gossamer threads of selfishness which the human heart draws between our own fate and every external event that befalls our fellow-men, with an after-period, when our chamber shall be left thus cold and lonely, and our place be no longer found amongst the living.

All spoke of the last Duke Charles, and of the bold rude sports of which he had been fond. Even the sconce that held a few lighted tapers was fashioned in the shape of a boar's head; and as the young citizen entered the chamber, he felt that feeling of pity for, and sympathy with, the deceased prince which nothing could have inspired but his death: that common fate which breaks down all that holds man from man, and first makes us feel our near kindred to each other.

There was no one in the chamber; and the page, after telling Albert Maurice that the lady would be with him in a moment, retired and left him to think both of the living and the dead. His thoughts of the latter, however, soon ceased; for in this active life the solemn impressions are naturally the most transitory; and the expectation of meeting Mary of Burgundy soon absorbed the whole. He had no time to analyse his feelings, or to examine with microscopic accuracy the workings of his own heart. Since the day when he had first seen her in the market-place her image had become connected with almost every thought that had passed through his mind. The name of the princess, and her conduct in all the events of the day, of course formed a constant part in the conversation of the people; and whenever she was mentioned, the fair form and the mild liquid eyes rose to the sight of the young burgher, and the sweet melodious tones of her voice seemed to warble in his ear. He had refused to let his own mind inquire what was going on in his bosom; but the words of Ganay had, perhaps, in some degree, opened his eyes to his feelings; and the sensations which he experienced while waiting her coming in that chamber tended still more to undeceive him.