he
valued his life. The barge-master's only reply was a low
signal-whistle, in answer to which twenty men, concealed in the hold,
sprang on deck and overwhelmed the little band of fugitives. The barge
then put about for Bristol, and on landing, the noble captive was
delivered by the treacherous barge-master into the custody of the Mayor.
That officer put him in close prison, and despatched a fleet messenger
to Henry to inquire what should be done with him. But before the answer
arrived, the capture became known in Bristol, and a clamorous mob
assembled before the Castle. The Mayor, to his credit, did his best to
resist the rabble, and to save his prisoner; but the mob were stronger
than authority. They carried the gates, rushed pell-mell into the
Castle, and dragged the captive forth into the market-place. And then
Bertram saw his master again--a helpless prisoner, in the hands of a
furious mob, among whom several priests were active. As he appeared,
there was a great shout of "Traitor!" and a few cries, lower yet more
terrible, of "Heretic!" They dragged him to the block erected in the
midst of the market-place, by which stood the public executioner. Le
Despenser saw unmistakably that his last hour had come; and he had not
been so far from anticipating that closing scene, that he was unprepared
for its coming.

"Sir," he said, turning to the executioner with his ordinary courtesy,
"I pray you of your grace to grant me time for prayer, and strike not
ere"--touching his handkerchief--"I shall let this fall."

The executioner, a quiet, practical man, unpossessed by the fury of the
mob, promised what was asked of him. Meantime Bertram Lyngern contrived
to squeeze himself inch by inch through the crowd, until at last he
stood beside his master.

"Ah, my trusty squire!" was the prisoner's greeting. "Look you--have
here my signet, which with Master Mayor's gentle allowing, you shall
bear unto my Lady."

The Mayor nodded permission. He was vexed and ashamed.

"Farewell, good friend," resumed Le Despenser, with a parting grasp of
his squire's hand. "Be sure to tell Madam my mother that I died true to
God and the King--and say unto my Lady that my last thought was of her."

Then he knelt down to commune with God. But he asked for no priest; and
when they saw it, the cries of the mob became fiercer than ever.

"Traitor!" and "Heretic!" were roared from every part of the vast
square.

Le Despenser rose, and