While some marched on, still yelling the tipsy chorus, others stumbled
across the body of their unconscious fellow as it lay in the way; two
had been struck by it as it fell, and were half stunned; others turned
back to see the cause of the trouble; many were forced to the ground,
impotently furious with drink, and not a few were trampled upon, and
hurt, and burnt by their own torches.
Eleanor looked down upon a writhing mass of miserable human beings who
were blind with wine and stupid with rage against the unknown thing
that had made them fall. She shrank to Gilbert's side, almost clinging
to him.
"We cannot stay here," she said. "You must not let me be recognized by
these brutes."
"Keep between me and the wall, then," he answered authoritatively.
His sword was in his hand as he descended the two steps to the level of
the street and began to force his way along between the houses and the
crowd. It was not easy at first. One sprang at him blindly to stop him,
but he thrust him aside; another drew his dagger, but Gilbert struck
him on temple and jaw with his flat blade so that he fell in a heap;
and presently the man who was sober was feared by the drunken men, and
they made little resistance. But many saw by the torchlight that the
hooded figure of a woman was gliding along beside him, and foul jests
were screamed out, with howls and catcalls, so that the clean Norman
blood longed to turn and face the whole throng together with edge and
thrust, to be avenged of insult.
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