The Lilyards, in truth, had long been busy with a plot of surprise and treachery. Hitherto they had never been able to lay any firm foundation for their ascendency in Bruges. The people were all armed, and could not be coerced. No sooner was any recourse to violence attempted than the terrible "good-days" appeared, and all their endeavors were in vain: the Guilds were too strong for them. At length, in order to remove, once for all, this hindrance out of their way, they had concerted a plan with De Chatillon, now governor-general of Flanders, for surprising and disarming the citizens on the morrow of this very day. An early hour of the morning had been fixed upon for the execution of their design, when De Chatillon was to be ready to support them with five hundred French men-at-arms; but, however well their secret might be kept from ordinary observers, they greatly feared the activity and penetration of Deconinck, who, moreover, was evidently possessed of secret sources of information which they had in vain endeavored to trace out. The Dean of the Clothworkers was craftier than they all, as they well knew; they had therefore seized the first opportunity of arresting him in order to deprive the popular party of their ablest leader, and so fatally to weaken their ranks. Brakel's denunciation, and the intended resistance of the Clothworkers, had merely served them as a pretext.
Having thus begun, by the committal of Deconinck, the execution of their base plans for betraying their native city to the stranger, they were about to break up the assembly, when suddenly a tumult was heard without, the door was burst open, and a man forced his way through the doorkeepers, who, striding proudly up to the assembled magistrates, cried in a loud voice:
"The Trades of Bruges call upon you to say whether you will release Deconinck, the Dean of the Clothworkers—yes or no? I advise you not to be long in making up your mind."
"You have no concern. Master Breydel, in this chamber," answered Van Gistel; "and I command you to quit it forthwith."
"I ask you once more," repeated Jan Breydel, "will you set at large the Dean of the Clothworkers, or will you not?"
Van Gistel, after whispering to one of the magistrates, cried in a loud voice:
"We reply to the threats of a rebellious subject with the punishment he deserves. Sergeant, seize him!"
"Ha! ha! Seize him!" repeated Breydel, with a laugh; "who will seize me, I should like to know? Take notice that the commons are at this moment about to make themselves masters of the building, and that each and every one of you shall answer with his life for the Dean of the Clothworkers. You shall soon see quite another dance, and to quite another tune too—that I promise you."
Meanwhile some of the sergeants in waiting had drawn near and seized the Dean of the Butchers by the collar, while one of them was already uncoiling a piece of cord with which to bind him. Breydel, intent upon what he was saying, had hitherto taken but little notice of these preparations; but now, as he turned away from the Lilyards, he perceived what the officers were about; and sending from his chest a deep sound, like the suppressed roaring of a bull, he cast his flashing eyes upon his assailants, and cried:
''Think you, then, that Jan Breydel, a free butcher of Bruges, will let himself be bound like a calf? Ha! you will wait long enough for that!"
And with these words, which he uttered in a voice of thunder, he struck one of the officers so violently with his heavy fist upon the head that the man speedily measured his length on the ground; then, while the rest stood stupefied with astonishment, he rapidly forced his way through them to the door, prostrating several of them right and left as he passed. In the doorway he turned round upon the Lilyards, and again exclaimed:
"You shall pay for it, insolent scoundrels! What! bind a butcher of Bruges! Woe to you, accursed tyrants! Hear me! hear me! the drum of the Butchers' Guild shall beat your deathmarch!"
More he would have said; but being no longer able to hold his ground against the multitude that was pressing upon him, he turned and descended the stairs, uttering threats of vengeance as he went.
An indistinct sound like the roar of distant thunder now fell upon the ear from the other side of the city. The Lilyards turned pale, and trembled at the coming storm; nevertheless, being determined not to release their prisoner, they strengthened the guard about the building, so as to secure it against assault, and retired to their homes, protected by an armed escort.
An hour afterward the whole city was in insurrection; the tocsin sounded, and the drums of all the Guilds beat to arms. The distant groan of the coming storm had given place to the formidable howl of a present tempest. Window-shutters were closed; doors were fastened, and only opened again for the grown men of the family to pass out in arms. The dogs barked fiercely, as though they had understood what was going on, and joined their hoarse voices to the angry shouts of their masters.
Here the people were grouped in masses; there they ran hither and thither with hasty steps; some armed with maces or clubs, others with "good-days" or halberds. Among the streaming multitude the butchers were easily to be
