The men at arms therefore began to break their ranks. Few had any desire to return to Bruges, for the crowd was so great on the road thither, that it was painful to see and hear the complaints of the wounded and hurt. The men of Ghent were close at their heels, shouting out, “Ghent, Ghent!” knocking down all that obstructed them. The greater part of the men at arms had never before been in such peril: even the earl was advised to make for Bruges, and to have the gates closed and guarded, so that the Ghent men should not be able to force them, and become masters of the town. The Earl of Flanders saw no help for his men, who were flying on all sides; and, as it was now dark night, followed this advice, and took the road to Bruges, his banner displayed before him. He entered the gates one of the first, with about forty others, for no more had followed him. He ordered the guards to defend the gates if the Ghent men should come hither; and then rode to his palace, from whence he issued a proclamation that every person, under pain of death, should assemble in the market-place. The intention of the earl was to save the town by this means; but it did not succeed, as you shall hear.
While the earl was in his palace, and had sent the clerks of the different trades from street to street to hasten the inhabitants to the market-place in order to preserve the city, the men of Ghent, having closely pursued their enemies, entered the town with them, and instantly made for the market-place, without turning to the right or left, where they drew themselves up in array. Sir Robert Mareschaut, one of the earl’s knights, had been sent to the gates to see they were guarded; but, while the earl was planning means for defending the town, Sir Robert found a gate flung off its hinges, and the Ghent men masters of it. Some of the citizens said to him, “Robert, Robert, return and save yourself, if you can, for the Ghent men have taken the town.” The knight returned as speedily as he could to the earl, whom he met coming out of his palace on horseback, with a number of torches. The knight told him what he had heard; but notwithstanding this, the earl, anxious to defend the town, advanced toward the market-place, and as he was entering it with a number of torches, shouting, “Flanders for the Lyon! Flanders for the earl!” those near his horse and about his person, seeing the place full of Ghent men, said, “My lord, return; for if you advance farther you will be slain, or at the best made prisoner by your enemies, as they are drawn up in the square and are waiting for you.”
They told him truth; for the Ghent men, seeing the great blaze of torches in the street, said, “Here comes my lord, here comes the earl: how he falls into our hands!” Philip von Artaveld had given orders to his men, that, if the earl should come, every care was to be taken to preserve him from harm, in order that he might be carried alive and in good health to Ghent, when they should be able to obtain what peace they chose. The earl had entered the square, near where the Ghent men were drawn up, when several people came to him and said, “My lord, do not come further; for the Ghent men are masters of the market-place and of the town, and if you advance you will run a risk of being taken. Numbers of them are now searching for their enemies from street to street; and many of the men of Bruges have joined them, who conduct them from hotel to hotel to seek those whom they want. You cannot pass any of the gates without danger of being killed, for they are in their possession; nor can you return to your palace, for a large rout of Ghent men have marched thither.”
When the earl heard this speech, which was heart-breaking as you may guess, he began to be much alarmed, and to see the peril he was in. He resolved to follow the advice of not going further, and to save himself if he could, which was confirmed by his own judgment. He ordered the torches to be extinguished, and said to those about him, “I see clearly that affairs are without remedy: I therefore give permission for every one to depart, and save himself in the best manner he can.” His orders were obeyed. The torches were put out, and thrown in the streets; and all who were in company with the earl separated and went away. He himself went to a by-street, where he was disarmed by his servant, and, throwing down his clothes, put on his servant’s, saying, “Go about thy business, and save thyself if thou canst; but be silent if thou fall into the hands of my enemies, and if they ask any thing about me do not give them any information.”—“My lord,” replied the valet, “I will sooner die.”
The Earl of Flanders thus remained alone, and it may be truly said he was in the greatest danger; for it was over with him if he had at that hour, by any accident, fallen into the hands of the mob, who were going up and down the streets, searching every house for the friends of the earl; and whomsoever they found they carried before Philip von Artaveld and the other captains in the market-place, when they were instantly put to death. It was God alone who watched over him, and delivered him from this peril; for no one had ever before been in such imminent danger, as I shall presently relate. The earl inwardly bewailed his situation from street to street at this late hour; for it was a little past midnight, and he dared not enter any house, lest he should be seized by the mobs of Ghent and Bruges. Thus, as he was rambling through the streets, he at last entered the house of a poor woman, a very unfit habitation for such a lord, as there were neither halls nor apartments, but a small house, dirty and smoky, and as black as jet: there was only in this place one poor chamber, over which was a sort of garret that was entered by means of a ladder of seven steps, where, on a miserable bed, the children of this woman lay.
The earl entered this house with fear and trembling, and said to the woman, who was also much frightened, “Woman, save me: I am thy lord, the Earl of Flanders; but at this moment I must hide myself, for my enemies are in pursuit of me; and I will handsomely reward thee for the favor thou showest me.” The poor woman knew him well, for she had frequently received alms at his door; and had often seen him pass and repass when he was going to some amusement or hunting. She was ready with her answers, in which God assisted the earl; for, had she delayed it ever so little, they would have found him in conversation with her by the fireside. “My lord, mount this ladder, and get under the bed in which my children sleep.” This he did, while she employed herself by the fireside, with another child in a cradle.
The Earl of Flanders mounted the ladder as quickly as he could, and, getting between the straw and the coverlet, hid himself, and contracted his body into as little space as possible. He had scarcely done so, when some of the mob of Ghent entered the house. One of them took a candle, and mounted the ladder, and, thrusting his head into the place, saw nothing but the wretched bed in which the children were asleep. He looked all about him, above and below, and then said to his companions, “Come, come, let us go: we only lose our time here.”
The Earl of Flanders, hearing all this conversation as he lay hid, you may easily imagine, was in the greatest fear of his life. In the morning he could have said he was one of the most powerful princes in Christendom, and that same night he felt himself one of the smallest. One may truly say that the fortunes of this world are not stable. It was fortunate for him to save his life; and this miraculous escape ought to be to him a remembrance his whole lifetime.
CHAPTER XI.
The Earl of Flanders quits Bruges, and returns to Lille, whither some of his People had already retreated.
I WAS informed, and believe my authority good, that on the Sunday evening, when it was dark, the Earl of Flanders escaped from Bruges. I am ignorant how he accomplished it, or if he had any assistance, but some I believe he must have had. He got out of the town on foot, clad in a miserable jerkin, and when in the fields was quite joyous, as he might then say he had escaped from the utmost peril. He wandered about at first, and came to a thornbush to consider whither he should go; for he was unacquainted with the roads or country, having never before travelled on foot. As he lay thus hid under the bush, he heard some one talk, who by accident was one of his knights, that had married a bastard daughter of his: his name was Sir Robert Mareschaut. The earl, hearing him talk as he was passing, said to him, “Robert, art thou there?” The knight, who well knew his voice, replied, “My lord, you have this day given me great uneasiness in seeking for you all round Bruges: how were you able to escape?”—“Come, come, Robert,” said the earl: “this is not a time to tell one’s adventures: endeavor to get me a horse, for I am tired with walking, and take the road to Lille, if thou knowest it.”—“My lord,” answered the knight, “I know it well.” They then travelled all night and the morrow till early morn, before they could procure a horse. The first beast they could find was a mare belonging to a poor man in a village. The earl mounted the mare, without saddle or bridle, and, travelling all Monday, came, toward evening, to the castle of Lille, whither a great part of his knights who had escaped from the battle of Bruges had retired. They had got off as well as they could, some on foot, others on horseback: but all did not follow this road; some went by water to Holland and Zealand, where they remained until they received better news.