Upon this the whole body of the men-at-arms made a furious onset upon the citizens, the large two-handed swords mowing down the helpless multitude, and the steel-clad chargers trampling them under their hoofs as they attempted to escape. They fell not, however, unavenged; for many a Frenchman gave his heart's best blood to swell the crimson stream that flowed upon the pavement. The father and the son lay one upon the other, both pierced by the self-same thrust; their souls had not parted company upon that last journey. The streets were thronged with fugitives, and resounded everywhere with cries of terror; each one hastened to gain the shelter of his habitation, doors and windows were closed and fastened, and Bruges soon presented the aspect of a city of the dead.
But the stillness did not last long. Soon the infuriated soldiery, fierce as untamed beasts, and thirsting for revenge, spread themselves through the deserted streets, the Lilyards acting as their guides, and pointing out the houses of the Clawards. Doors or windows were instantly forced in; money and goods seized and carried off, and whatever was not worth the trouble of removal broken and destroyed. The terrified women, dragged from their hiding-places, were subjected to the grossest outrage, the men who raised a hand in defense of wife or sister murdered on the spot. Every here and there upon the streets, before the doors of the plundered houses, lay a mangled corpse amid fragments of shattered furniture. No sound was to be heard but the furious cries of the soldiers and the screams of the unhappy women. The plunderers came laughing out of the homes they had laid desolate, their hands filled with Flemish gold, and red with Flemish gore; and as each party, sated with blood and booty, drew off from the spot, another worse than it followed in its place; and so the horrid work proceeded, till the full cup of misery was drained to the dregs by the despairing citizens.
In Peter Deconinck's house there was not an article of furniture but was broken into fragments; nor would the very walls have been left standing, but that the plunderers grudged the time which they had destined for more ruthless deeds. Another party hastened straight to the dwelling of Jan Breydel. In a few moments the door was shivered to pieces; and breathing threats of vengeance, some twenty of the bloodthirsty crew rushed into the shop, where, however, they could discover no one, though each possible and impossible lurkingplace was rigidly examined. Chests and closets were forced open, and rifled of their contents; and then everything the house contained was wantonly broken up and demolished. At last, tired with their work of destruction, they were contemplating its results with malignant satisfaction, when one of the band who had mounted the staircase returned, saying, "I have heard something moving in the loft; I'll be sworn there are some Flemings lurking under the roof; and if we make a sharper search, depend upon it we shall find something better worth looking for; most likely they have the best of their gear with them."
Upon this the whole party hurried toward the stairs, each eager to be the first at the spoil; their comrade, however, checked their haste.
"Stay, stay!" said he; "you can't get in yet. The trap-door is ten feet above the floor, and they have drawn up the ladder; but that makes no odds—I saw a ladder in the yard. Wait a moment, and I will fetch it."
This was speedily effected, and they all ascended the stairs together, and mounted to the trap-door; but there was still an impediment—the trap was firmly fastened down and could not be raised.
"Well, then," cried one of them, taking up a heavy piece of wood from the floor, "if the door is locked, we must find a key to it."
So saying, he struck violently against the trap, which, however, still held fast, without showing the slightest sign of giving way; but a cry of terror and lamentation, as though the very soul itself was passing out with it, sounded from the loft.
'*Ha! ha!" cried the soldiers, "they are lying on the trap."
"Wait!" exclaimed another voice: "I will soon show them the way off it. Lend a hand there."
With their united strength they now lifted a massive beam, and plied it so fiercely against the trap that the shattered board soon fell down among them. With a wild shout of triumph they rushed up the ladder, and in an instant were all within the loft. Here they suddenly stood still. It seemed as if some strange and solemn spectacle had touched their hearts; for the curses died away upon their lips, and they looked at one another with an air of hesitation.
At the farther end of the loft stood a boy—he could not be above fourteen—with a pole-ax in his hand. His face was pale; his limbs quivered with agitation; no word or sound issued from his compressed lips. He held up his weapon in a threatening attitude against the
