The horsemen needed but little time wherein to refresh themselves and their horses. The aubergiste, at Geoffrey's command, brought forth his best wine for the gentlemen, and his ostlers produced corn and water for the horses. In half-an-hour the order to remount was given, and soon the party was trotting quietly through the cobbled streets of Busigney.
Their next halting-place would be Mons; in two hours' time they would be out of French territory.
Clear of the town they put their horses to a hand-gallop, and once more the devastation of war became evident. All was ruin and desolation in this once fertile region, there seemed to be nothing left by the cruel marauding hands of men!
The villages and hamlets still smouldered, and the air was reeking with pungent smoke; but there were no inhabitants, all had fled from the neighbourhood of the great military highway.
Yet Geoffrey and his companions relaxed nothing of their keen vigilance. Robin rode ahead and Hal in the rear as before.
On, on, through the night!
The stars shone brilliantly, not a cloud flecked the sky. Ill-omened blotches of red light on the horizon marked where the gueux were still at their evil work, but even these grew fewer as the small hours of the morning passed and the travellers were reaching Flemish territory.
All at once the advance-guard dropped back upon them. He reported that a crowd of men were approaching; they were not in military order, but they were occupying the whole road.
Geoffrey signalled to the rear-guard to join them, and a rapid consultation ensued. Finally, Geoffrey ordered the three lads to fall in behind the gentlemen; then with drawn swords all advanced at slow pace towards the oncoming mob. Many of these men carried pine-knot torches, and by their flickering and lurid light it could be seen that they were rudely armed peasantry—scythes, pitchforks and huge clubs were their chief weapons, and these they waved aloft with wild cries of defiance. The three young soldiers felt a true pity for these homeless and houseless men, and Geoffrey resolved to win his way through them by expostulation, if it were possible.
Reining up his steed he waited till the gueux were close at hand, then he thundered out—
"Halt there, if you value your lives!"
The men uttered derisive cries—yet they halted.
"Why do you obstruct the King's highway? make way, or you will rue the day when you strove to stop six heavily-armed men."
Their leader stepped to the front.
"You are six in number, are you," he cried, "and we are ten to one against you! Dismount from your horses, give them up to us and we will let you pass," he continued.
"Fools!" cried Geoffrey angrily; "do you think to frighten soldiers with your base threats? Yet I know that you are poor and starving, and I would not willingly put you to the sword. Hear me! On the word of a gentleman I promise you that if you make way for us I will scatter five gold pieces among you. Now answer me, and that quickly!"
For a moment the men drew together to consider the offer. But the very mention of "gold pieces" aroused their base passions and cupidity; perhaps they thought that fear dictated the generous offer. Then the leader cried out—
"We will have your gold and your horses too; dismount and we promise you your lives."
Geoffrey turned rapidly to his men.
"Two abreast," he cried; "are you ready? Charge!"
Then they dug their spurs into their horses' flanks and, like a thunderbolt, they hurled themselves into the midst of the seething mob, with a wild British cheer! Cutting, slashing, hewing, stabbing, the six trained and disciplined soldiers passed through their foes as if they had been but wax dolls or stuffed effigies. In less than a minute they had won their way, and the path through which they had passed was strewn with the dead and dying.
Then Geoffrey cried "Halt!"
The gueux were a hundred yards behind them, and they showed no inclination to pursue.
"Is any man hurt?" cried Geoffrey to his party.
Two lads answered—
"Only a little blood-letting, sir."
"Then in God's name let us ride forward," cried Geoffrey: "we have punished those poor wretches sufficiently; but they would have it, Heaven pity them!"
On, on once more into the night.
The morn was breaking, streaks of grey light quivered in the sky and the stars were losing their brilliance. They were approaching the confines of Flanders, and as the dawn deepened into day the watch-towers of Maubeuge came in sight. It was a frontier town, and in times of peace its barriers would have been kept by an armed force, not to be passed till all dues and customs had been paid, and all questions fully answered.
As the armed party appeared in view the shrill voice of a trumpet rang out, and men were to be seen hurrying to their places of observation. But the sight of six men in uniform, fully armed, seemed to render all formalities unnecessary, and no resistance to their passage was made as the party rode through the town making no halt in it.
The sun was rising in great splendour; it shone upon a scene that cheered the hearts of the horsemen. All was bright and peaceful, the fields were yellow with corn and the reapers were everywhere at work.
"Oh, blessed peace!" said William to Ralph; "who would not sigh for the time when wars should be no more, when men shall 'beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks'!"
They rode more gently now, for their gallant steeds were beginning to flag. At mid-day the towers and spires of Mons came into sight and the splendid tracery of the glorious Cathedral of St. Wandru, as it displayed itself against a sky of opal blue, filled them with admiration.
Reaching the Grande Place, they halted in front of the H?tel de la Couronne, and the weary travellers dismounted. They, as well as their horses, needed repose, and Geoffrey decreed a respite of three hours.
All too soon Geoffrey aroused his comrades, who had both dined and slept after they had seen carefully that the needs of their horses had received attention.
"To horse, to horse," cried Geoffrey: "we must be in Brussels ere nightfall."
Once more they were in the saddle, and the bells of the cathedral tolled the hour of three as they rode across the bridge of the river Trouille, fresh and reinvigorated. Their horses had been well cared for, and they seemed to share the exhilaration of their riders.
On through the pleasant plains of Flanders, through Jubise, Nivelles, Brise-le-Compte, and many another small town. They sang, they talked to their horses and caressed them, and the noble animals responded to their efforts as they cantered forwards.
Yet night was falling ere the noble town of Brussels was reached; the sweet-toned bells of the great Cathedral, St. Gudule, were chiming, and presently they announced the hour—it was eight o'clock.
The party halted in the Grande Place under the shadow of the splendid H?tel de Ville, and Geoffrey quickly found a comfortable hotel where they could stable their horses and refresh themselves.
Then he wended his way to the burgomaster's house, that he might lodge his demand for six fresh horses "for the King's service." He encountered no difficulties, and this business being accomplished he rejoined his companions at the H?tel de Flandres.
The horses were ordered for midnight, when they would begin the last stage of their long ride; they would reach Antwerp by daybreak, if all went well. They had four hours for rest and refreshment, yet, when they had dined, and ere they snatched an hour's sleep, the gentlemen of the party strolled for a brief space in the Grande Place. It was full of gaily-dressed citizens; and great lanterns, suspended on poles at intervals, cast a bright light upon the animated scene.
Here were gallant young Spanish officers, belonging to the garrison of the city, attracting the eyes of all beholders by the glitter of their uniforms and the easy hauteur with which they moved among the people.
There were civic dignitaries in rich flowing robes, escorting their wives and daughters to an entertainment which was being given that night by Margaret, Duchess of Parma, the King's half-sister. She was paying a brief visit to the city, where she had spent her childhood; she was soon to become the Regent of the Netherlands.
There were groups of monks in the many-coloured robes of their Orders, Black Dominicans, White Augustinians and Brown Benedictines.
All sorts and conditions of men were there, and the young Englishmen watched them with keen interest. So novel a scene had they never witnessed, nor so lovely a house as the "Maison du Roi," which blazed with light in all its windows on the eastern side of the Place.
Ah, what a house that was! Richly sculptured, ornamented with armorial bearings, which glittered with crimson and gold; so splendid that it was sometimes called "The Golden House." It was in front of that very house that, eleven years later, twenty-five Flemish nobles passed to their doom on the scaffold—it was in the spring of 1568. Two months later Counts Egmont and Horn were led forth from that gorgeous abode to perish under the headsman's axe.
There was no prophetic vision to foretell these dread things; and that night, as the young Englishmen gazed upon it in all its sumptuous beauty, the wildest imagination would not have dreamt of so tragic a thing.
The eyes of the young men lingered on these scenes of fascination, and, for a time, they lost the feeling of weariness and fatigue.
"Come, boys," cried Geoffrey, as he laid his hands on their shoulders, "this will not do! The clocks are chiming for the ninth hour, and at twelve we have to be in the saddle."
So they retraced their steps to the H?tel de Flandres and soon "fell on sleep," perhaps to dream of gallant courtiers, stout burghers, of civic dignitaries and the fair ladies of the wondrous city of Brussels.
The hour of midnight had come, and in the spacious stable-yard of the hotel six fine Flemish horses, fully harnessed for military service, awaited their riders. Nor had they long to wait.
Scarce had the sound of the chiming bells died down than the six horsemen made their appearance. Again was a minute examination made of every part of the equipment, again the men renewed the priming of their pistols and shook their sword-belts into position.
"Are you all ready?" cried Geoffrey, when all was finished. And in response to the "Aye, aye, sir," of the men, the word of command came—
"Then mount; we ride in pairs till we are clear of the city, then as before: Robin in front and Hal behind."
Quietly they rode through the dimly-lit streets and passed over the river Senne into the open country. They were on a good road now (the ancient Roman "street"), which led straight away to Antwerp, through Mechlin, where they would make their first halt.
They were splendidly mounted and their horses broke into an easy canter, tossing their long manes and snorting, as if with joy. Through verdant plains, through teeming cornfields, through villages and small towns, onwards they galloped till the lights of Mechlin came in sight. Presently they were riding gently through the ancient town, and the ca............