long furled, floated from parapet and pediment, from window and
balcony, from tower and turret. Doors were thrown open that had not
always swung wide on their hinges, and open house was kept in many
quarters.

Towards noon a man mounted the steps in the Market Place, and read
this first of the King's proclamations and nailed it to the Cross.

A company of red-coated soldiers were marched from the Castle Hill to
the hill on the southwest, which had been thrown up six years before
by the russet-coated soldiery who had attacked and seized the castle.
Then they were marched back and disbanded for the night.

When darkness fell over highway and byway, fires were lit down the
middle of the narrow streets, and they sent up wide flakes of light
that brightened the fronts of the half-timbered houses on either side,
and shot a red glow into the sky, where the square walls of the
Dungeon Tower stood out against dark rolling clouds. Little knots of
people were at every corner, and groups of the baser sort were
gathered about every fire. Gossip and laughter and the click of the
drinking-horn fell everywhere on the ear. But the night was still
young, and order as yet prevailed.

The Market Place was the scene of highest activity. Numbers of men and
boys sat and stood on the steps of the Cross, discussing the
proclamation that had been read there. Now and again some youth of
more scholarship than the rest held a link to the paper, and lisped
and stammered through its bewildering sentences for the benefit of a
circle of listeners who craned their necks to hear.