^Bltuen'g afe. 233 



king fled from Enlgand, with a few attendants, "the 

 most distressed company of creatures that were ever 

 seen, for Edward had left his military coat, lined with 

 martin's fur, with the master of the ship, having no other 

 means of paying him, and was put on shore in his 

 waistcoat. Unlike many in those days, who made the 

 exiles of either faction, whether of the red or paler rose, 

 pay dearly for their prison-houses, or hard fare, the Lord 

 of Grauthuse fed and clothed the king and his attendants. 

 He lent him ships and money, without which he could 

 not have returned to his family, and afforded him every 

 facility for making good his landing on the shores of 

 Britain.* The minstrel has ceased now, and night and 

 silence pervade the castle. The moon, which looked 

 down on the white sail of King Edward, passing in its 

 swiftness and its loneliness over the dark waters, shines 

 now on the ancient turrets of Windsor Castle, wherein 

 the king is sleeping. And there, too, his wife and 

 children, his courtiers and his guards, are resting, and no 

 sound is heard except the heavy tramp of the warders as 

 they go their rounds, or perchance the deep bay of some 

 listening hound, which the leveret's light step on the damp 

 grass has roused from his slumber. 



Morning returns, and the cheerful sights and sounds 

 of busy life. St. George's Chapel, with its painted 

 windows and knights' banners are brightening in the 



* Narrative of Louis of Bruges, Lord Grauthuse, edited by Sir F. 

 Madden. 



