summoning _Écoutète_ Peter Lanchals bade him take measures to obtain possession of the city gates. It was too late. What had occurred at the _Porte Ste. Catherine_ was now known throughout Bruges, and all the gates were strongly guarded by armed guildsmen. Almost in despair, the Regent gave orders to fire the town, hoping that in the confusion Hornes would somehow or other be able to effect an entrance--vain hope; the fires were no sooner kindled than extinguished. Maximilian, however, was not yet at the end of his tether. The _Porte de Gand_ had been entrusted to Mathew Denys, Dean of Carpenters, who was said to be favourably disposed towards him. Again he sallied forth with a handful of faithful Germans, and again he was disappointed. With rude speech and violent gestures Mathew disdained his addresses. 'Deliver your dean into my hands,' cried Maximilian, furious at his refusal, 'and I will load you with benefits.' This, to the soldiers under Mathew's command. 'While there is a drop of blood in our veins,' was the reply, 'we will never abandon him.' 'Then at least let me leave the town,' cried Maximilian, but neither would they grant this request; they felt sure he would be off to Damme to summon the little garrison there to join the army of Hornes. Whereupon council of war, and assembly in the _Place du bourg_ of all the Duke's forces, strenuous exertions on the part of Peter Lanchals to rouse the burghers of his party to rally round Maximilian, much reluctance on their part to do so, great curiosity on the part of the multitude to learn what was going on, and no little anxiety on the part of the Germans to maintain order. _Stact! Stact!_ they shouted, making a hedge with their halberds as the crowd pressed them closer and closer, which, in plain English, means 'keep back,' but in the excitement and turmoil of the moment, the people thought the soldiers cried _slact, slact_, that is 'strike, strike,' and fled helter-skelter, cry-out as they went that the Germans were going to slay them. Whereat panic unspeakable, and whilst the tocsin shrieks over the city, a host of armed guildsmen file into the market-place, bringing with them forty-nine cannons and fifty-two standards; and a crowd of trembling priests secrete in the crypt of St. Donatian's, in the secret chambers in the thickness of the walls, in the vast _grenier_ above the vaults, in holes and crannies, wherever they can, their relics and their art treasures, and frantically call on clerk and sacrist to save them from the Germans; messengers are sent off in hot haste to summon help from Ypres and Ghent; Maximilian, trembling for his life, withdraws to his palace, but not by way of the market-place; the whole town thrills with excitement and a burning desire for vengeance, increased tenfold when news comes of the arrest of the incendiaries, two Moors in the service of Count van Zollern. Not a burgher but was convinced that Bruges had escaped disaster by the skin of her teeth.