"Mayhap," said I gravely, "you will not deem me impertinent, as affairs stand, in asking to what place I am to be removed?"
"To Bernicles," was his reply.
My heart rather sank, for the name suggested to my imagination that terrible instrument of torture used by the Saracens. In fact, the only bernicles of which I had heard is an engine made of pieces of wood pierced with holes, into which the legs of captives are thrust. They are put at such a distance from each other as to cause intense pain; and, the holes being at various distances, the legs of the victim are forced to a greater or less extension according to the pain intended to be inflicted. No wonder I started, and felt some sensation of horror, as I turned to the governor, and said gravely—
"I mislike the name. However, when one of your monarchs—indeed, that King of France since canonised and known as St. Louis—was a prisoner of the Saracens, and threatened by them with the bernicles, he said, 'I am your captive, and it is in your power to do with me as you please.' So say I."
The governor left me; and I, having taken my evening meal, lay down to sleep, and dreamed that I was on the point of being put in the bernicles by Philip of Valois and the young Lord De Ov, and that I was rescued from their hands by the ladies of Poix, whose champion I had constituted myself when their father's castle was taken by the army of invaders.
"Well," murmured I as I awoke, and convinced myself with some difficulty that it was a dream, "no saying what all this may end in. Assuredly my prospects are not inviting. Nevertheless, let me not droop or despair. I have heard men say that fortune, in love and war, often turns out more favourable than could have been expected. So let me hope for the best, and trust in God and St. George."
[CHAPTER XXII]
THE SIEGE OF CALAIS
I have related, in a previous chapter, and in its proper place, that when, on that memorable Saturday on which Cressy was fought, the English found themselves masters of the field, they, in obedience to the king's command, refrained from noise and riotous merriment, and frequently gave thanks to God for the happy issue of the day, and for the wondrous victory which had crowned their efforts.
After vespers the French seemed to have vanished from the ground. At least, they gave no audible sign of being near the camp of their conquerors. No more hooting or shouting was heard, nor any more crying out for particular lords or their banners. Nevertheless, the English made a point of erring on the safe side, and were on their guard against a nocturnal surprise. As the night of Saturday was very obscure, they lighted huge torches, and kindled large fires; and when the morning of Sunday, the 27th of August dawned, and the atmosphere was so densely wrapped in fog that men had some difficulty in recognising their comrades in arms, even at the distance of a few yards, their sense of insecurity increased, and, with the sense of insecurity, the vigilance necessary to avert all danger.