St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and PoitiersHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Great Britain -- History -- Edward III, 1327-1377 -- Fiction
The linen sheets and coverings were soon cut up and knotted together in
a rope. By the time that this was finished the darkness was closing in,
and after waiting patiently for a few minutes they lowered the rope and
slid down into the yard. Quietly they undid the bolts of the gate and
issued into the lane. The mantles were provided with hoods, as few of
the lower class of Flemings wore any other head-covering.
Drawing these hoods well over their heads so as to shade their faces,
the two sallied out from the lane. They were soon in one of the
principal streets, which was crowded with people. Bands of weavers,
butchers, skinners, and others were parading the streets shouting and
singing in honor of their victory and of the downfall and death of him
whom they had but a few days before regarded as the mainstay of
Flanders. Many of the better class of burghers stood in groups in the
streets and talked in low and rather frightened voices of the
consequences which the deed of blood would bring upon the city. On the
one hand, Edward might march upon it with his army to avenge the murder
of his ally. Upon the other hand, they were now committed to France.
Their former ruler would return, and all the imposts and burdens against
which they had rebelled would again be laid upon the city.
"What shall we do now?" Ralph asked, "for assuredly there will be no
issue by the gates."
"We must possess ourselves of a length of rope, if possible, and make
our escape over the wall. How to get one I know not, for the shops are
all closed, and even were it not so I could not venture in to purchase
any, for my speech would betray us at once. Let us separate, and each
see whether he can find what we want. We will meet again at the entrance
to this church in an hour's time. One or the other of us may find what
we seek."
Walter searched in vain. Wherever he saw the door of a yard open he
peered in, but in no case could he see any signs of rope. At the end of
the hour he returned to their rendezvous. Ralph was already there.
"I have found nothing, Ralph. Have you had better fortune?"
"That have I, Master Walter, and was back nigh an hour since. Scarce had
I left you when in a back street I came upon a quiet hostelry, and in
the court-yard were standing half a dozen teams of cattle. Doubtless
their owners had brought hay or corn into the city, and when the tumult
arose and the gates were closed found themselves unable to escape. The
masters were all drinking within, so without more ado I cut off the
ropes which served as traces for the oxen, and have them wound round my
body under my mantle. There must be twenty yards at least, and as each
rope is strong enough to hold double our weight there will be no
difficulty in lowering ourselves from the walls."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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