With
Flotte--'that Belial,' as Pope Boniface VIII. once called him--and
the rest, Chatillon sat revelling till a late hour. The night wore
on; De Chatillon's party broke up, and went to rest; the weary
sentinels were half asleep at their posts; and soon all Bruges
was buried in silence. Here and there lights twinkled in some of
the guild-houses, where a few of the burghers sat anxiously waiting
for what the morrow might bring forth, while others went to the
ramparts on the north, and strained their eyes to see if help was
coming from Damme.
At early dawn--it was Friday, May 18, 1302--the watchers on the
ramparts saw a host of armed men rapidly approaching the town. They
were divided into two parties, one of which, led by De Coninck,
made for the Porte Ste. Croix, while the other, under Breidel,
marched to the Porte de Damme, a gateway which no longer exists,
but which was then one of the most important entrances, being that
by which travellers came from Damme and Sluis. Messengers from
the ramparts ran swiftly through the streets, in which daylight
was now beginning to appear, and spread the news from house to
house. Silently the burghers took their swords and pikes, left
their homes, and gathered in the Market-Place and near the houses
in which the French were sleeping.
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