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 Hôtel 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.