From this stand more than three fourths of those who were seated there had already broken out, since it had not fallen utterly, and by good fortune was open on all sides.  Some, however, tangled in the canvas roof, were still trying to escape.  Other poor creatures had been crushed to death, or, broken-limbed, lay helpless, or, worse still, were held down beneath the fallen beams.

Several of these they freed, whereon those who were unharmed at once ran away without thanking them.  But for a long while they could find no trace of Sir Geoffrey.  Indeed, they were near to abandoning their search, for the sights and sounds were sickening even to men who were accustomed to those of battlefields, when Dick’s quick ears caught the tones of an English voice calling for help.  Apparently it came from the back of the Doge’s tribune, where lay a heap of dead.  Gaily dressed folk who had fallen in the flight and been crushed, not by the earthquake, but by the feet of their fellows.  These blackened and disfigured men and women they dragged away with much toil, and at last, to their joy, beneath them all found Sir Geoffrey Carleon.  In another few minutes he must have died, for he was almost suffocated.

Indeed he would certainly have perished with the others had he not been thrown under a fixed bench, whence one leg projected, which, as they could see at once, was crushed and broken.  They drew him out as gently as they could and gave him water to drink, whereof, mercifully for them all, since by now they were utterly parched with thirst, they had discovered a large silver pitcher full, standing in the corner of a little ante-chamber to the tribune.  It was half hidden with fragments of fine dresses and even jewels torn from the persons of the lords and ladies.

“I thank you, friends,” he said faintly.  “I prayed them to keep seated, but they went mad and would not listen.  Those behind trod down those in front, till that doorway was choked and I was hurled beneath the bench.  Oh, it was terrible to hear them dying about me and to know that soon I must follow!  This, had it not been for you, I should have done, for my leg is crushed and there was no air.”

Then, having drunk and drunk until even their raging thirst was satisfied, they found a plank.  Laying Sir Geoffrey on it, they departed from that human shambles, whence the piteous cries of those still imprisoned there, whom they could not reach, pursued them horribly.

Thus, slowly enough, for there were but three of them, two hampered by their mail, they bore Sir Geoffrey across the Place of Arms.  Save for the dead and dying, and some ghoul-like knaves who plundered them, by this time it was almost deserted.

Indeed, a large band of these wretches, who had emerged like wolves from their lairs in the lowest quarters of the great city, catching sight of the gold chain Sir Geoffrey wore, ran up with drawn daggers to kill and rob them.