uld never defend himself against such
nonsense, and that his old enemy must be determined on his ruin, instead
of answering the charges fled to Merton Abbey. Then the King, in a
violent passion, sent for the Mayor of London, and said to the Mayor,
'Take twenty thousand citizens, and drag me Hubert de Burgh out of that
abbey, and bring him here.' The Mayor posted off to do it, but the
Archbishop of Dublin (who was a friend of Hubert's) warning the King that
an abbey was a sacred place, and that if he committed any violence there,
he must answer for it to the Church, the King changed his mind and called
the Mayor back, and declared that Hubert should have four months to
prepare his defence, and should be safe and free during that time.

Hubert, who relied upon the King's word, though I think he was old enough
to have known better, came out of Merton Abbey upon these conditions, and
journeyed away to see his wife: a Scottish Princess who was then at St.
Edmund's-Bury.

Almost as soon as he had departed from the Sanctuary, his enemies
persuaded the weak King to send out one SIR GODFREY DE CRANCUMB, who
commanded three hundred vagabonds called the Black Band, with orders to
seize him. They came up with him at a little town in Essex, called
Brentwood, when he was in bed. He leaped out of bed, got out of the
house, fled to the church, ran up to the altar, and laid his hand upon
the cross. Sir Godfrey and the Black Band, caring neither for church,
altar, nor cross, dragged him forth to the church door, with their drawn
swords flashing round his head, and sent for a Smith to rivet a set of
chains upon him. When the Smith (I wish I knew his name!) was brought,
all dark and swarthy with the smoke of his forge, and panting with the
speed he had made; and the Black Band, falling aside to show him the
Prisoner, cried with a loud uproar, 'Make the fetters heavy! make them
strong!' the Smith dropped upon his knee--but not to the Black Band--and
said, 'This is the brave Earl Hubert de Burgh, who fought at Dover
Castle, and destroyed the French fleet, and has done his country much
good service. You may kill me, if you like, but I will never make a
chain for Earl Hubert de Burgh!'

The Black Band never blushed, or they might have blushed at this. They
knocked the Smith about from one to another, and swore at him, and tied
the Earl on horseback, undressed as he was, and carried him off to the
Tower of London. The Bishops, howeve