I
threw aside the arquebuse and proceeded to kill the canting mendicant. I
do not know that I killed him; I hope I did. I cannot speak with
certainty on that point, for I was quickly thrown away from him by the
avenging mob that rushed upon us and tore the fellow limb from limb. The
other friars were set upon by the populace that had witnessed the combat
from without the lists, and were beaten so unmercifully that one of them
died. Of the other's fate I know nothing, but I have my secret desires.
"Kill the Italians! Murder the assassins! Down with the mercenaries,"
cried the populace, who hated the duke's guard. The barriers were broken
down, and an interesting battle ensued. Surely the people got their full
satisfaction of blood and excitement that day. The Italians drew their
swords, but, being separated, they were at a disadvantage, though their
assailants carried only staves. I expected the duke to stop the fight,
but he withdrew to a little distance and watched it with evident
interest. My interest was more than evident; it was uproarious. I have
never spent so enjoyable a day. The fight raged after Max and I left,
and there was many a sore head and broken bone that night among the
Italian mercenaries of the Duke of Burgundy.
When Max and I returned to Peronne, we went to the noble church of St.
Jean and offered our humble gratitude. Max, having thrown off his anger,
proposed to buy a mass for the dead friar; but I was for leaving him in
purgatory where he belonged, and Max, as usual, took my advice.
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