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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2 1.0 I.I 1.25 2.8 H 3,6 |40 1.4 III 2.5 |Z2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ x^PPLIEG IIVMGE ^p^ 1653 Eost Main Street ~.^ Rochester. New rork U609 u' •-^ (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone = (716) 288 - 5989 - Fo« >^ ^jj^^^v^^^^L^^:^, e-HU a^t^ MY LADY OF ORANGE / f Longmans' Colonial Library MY LADY OF ORANGE BY H. C. BAILEY WITH KIGHT II.IA'STRATIONS HY G. P. JACOMB-HOOD : -J TORONTO THE COPP CI, ARK CO., MMIl'Kl) l.ONDON LONGMAN'S, GREKN, AND CO. 1 90 1 '''% boos 1901 Still III ,1 , hiirchyartl a dark btone testifies : O H A N N I . N E VV S I- E A I) KT GAliKIKLL.K . \XOKI . F.IVS AMICIS . AMICVS AM AXIS . AMAT\ 8 llUC . M ARMOR G. \V. CONTENTS ' JIAI , I. AN AUDIF.NCF OF ORANGK 11. THK USE OF A URIDHK III THK POSTERN GATE. IV. A COrNCH. OF DKSPAIK V. THE I.ION's DEN VI. THE BARr; UN- OF ALVA VII. "MAN AOMNSl TIME" VIII. THK WAYS OF DESERTERS IX. HIRELINGS' BATTLES X. IN THE GARDEN .XI. alva's kevenge XII. A CHANCE FOR LIFK I 9 21 30 38 5' 66 86 97 no 118 •3° viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS CHAP. XIII. THE r.AROKN Af.AIN . XIV. THE (lUEST.S OF THE VEI.I.OW PJO XV. THE Jl-.STICE OF IMKhklCH sqxov XVI. THE T..\ST Al.i V N>II. A CH.ANGED MAN XVII 1. THE LATEST NEWS XIX. THE HORSE AND I XX, A SOLDIER'S WAGES . CAfiP 142 '52 174 187 198 207 223 229 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "Tr.\ crowns!'- I .HOUTED The Thing was Done in an Insiant ''No ES KADAr HE SHOrTFU., " XO ES XAD.-r' "To ATTACK Al.VA? WiTlI ,0 KEW MKN?" UV. HEC.AN TO R,,AI) tko.M A PaPEK ,X „, Hand ^O TI.MES are chanced. EH, MISTRISO" .s HE (■RUKFI.V . All • I- ronti. pica To /'' ''/".•, '<• 10 ' 1 1 74 95 Vermeil made a Step for ward, anp t.,k RACK THE Cr.OAK ... " IlK IS BACK :" SHE CRIEl. Kl I4S 23,5 MY LADY OF ORANGE CHAPTER I AN AUDIENCE OF ORANGE No saint am I : nay that is true enough, else had I scarce done my work in the world and lived to sit here at sixty by my own fireside with the children chattering round me and Gabrielle's eyes still looking into mine. 'Tis thirty years ago now, and the joy of my old battles is but a dull memory, and the smoke has rolled away, and the shouts and screams have fallen to silence ; but not yet have we forgotten here in Holland the days when Alva coiled himself like an iron serpent round the land, and castle and town sank down together amid blood and fire. I am English born and bred, and quarrels of Dutchman and Spaniard were no work of mine, yet something a man must do in the 2 MY LADY OF ORANGE world, and this was the work that came to my hand : to fight Alva with his own two weapons— the sword and the He, and with both I beat him, cordicu ! with both ! At the first I said I was no saint, and that, it may be, is the reason why first I fought for Alva ere my turn came to meet him f^iirly in the field. I was true to him ; save that at the last I left him for W^illiam of Nassau, I was ever true to him, and I fought for him as a man may at Mechlin, and Zutphen, and Harlem sack. Nought did we owe to Alva; it was no little he owed us ; may not soldiers of fortune choose their leader ? Did we not choose well when we chose Orange in Alva's stead .^ "Ay, ay," you answer, "choose you may; but your choice should be made once." Well, 'twas a mistake, I confess, and all men make mistakes at times — else would victories be few. Mistake or no mistake, it was ended, and I, John Newstead, rode into Delft, to William of Nassau : "An Englishman asks audience of the Prince ' " AN AUDIENCE OF ORANGE 3 " Ay. ay, English ye call yourself, Spaniard ye look," grumbled the serving-man. I caught him by the collar : " CordicH I I a Spaniard, knave ? I, John Newstead? 's wounds ! Madre Dios ! Do I look a Spaniard?" I cried, raising my whip. "Well, ye swear like one," he answered, and the knave wriggled away. A moment later I was standing in an inner room, fronting the man who had set himself alone to meet the power of Spain, the man who held out still though all his country lay in the hollow of Alva's hand. In truth, William of Nassau was a man. He sat there behind a table, with a fellow at his elbow who eyed me askance as I entered, and whispered low in his master's ear. The Prince did not answer ; his steady dark eyes sought mine, and he sat with his fingers drumming on the table watching me. " Nay, you look not like an assassin," he said quietly. "I will cut his heart out who says it!" I cried. "And so prove his words," said the sec- retary. 4 MY LADY OF ORANGE " Enouorh, Cornput. Your name and your purpose, my friend ? " " My name is John Newstead. I come to take service under your Highness." '• Your name tells me nothing," the Prince answered. " I have three hundred stout soldiers out- side the town." " Ah ! What say you, Cornput ? " " Three hundred ? Ay ; stout, ay, I doubt it not. How many loyal ? " said the secretary. " Each as loyal as myself!" I answered. " That may well be," said Cornput, with a sneer. "Numbers, stoutness, loyalty, all on the surety of their commander. Faith, you value yourself too low." " That seems uncommon in Delft," I said sharply. "For their numbers, your High- ness may count them. For their loyalty, try them. For their stoutness— they fought at Harlem." Prince and secretary started. "At Harlem.?" said the Prince slowly. " You are a bold man, my friend." "You and your men sacked Harlem under Alva ? " cried the secretary. "I said we were stout soldiers," 1 an- AN AUDIENCE OF ORANGE 5 swered. " There was but one sack of Harlem ; we were there." "And you come here — here?" stam- mered the secretary. "Oh, your questions grow wiser!" I cried. "Why do you come to me .^ " asked th. nnce. 1 was not too easy to answer. Why did I leave the winning side for one that never had much to give, and new less than Httle ? I know not even now ; it was folly—folly twice told— and the world does not think me a fool. "I lead a free company," I answered; ''no money have my men had for months. They have sworn to fight for Alva no more, ■md so I lead them to William of Orange.' And for myself. cor^/Zeu! I had rather fight for your Highness than any black Spaniard of them all ! " Ay, that, methinks, was my reason ; 'tis hard ever to tell why a man's deeds were done. When I think of it, it seems folly, and yet as I spoke the words in the little room at Delft I believed them. Do I believe them now.' Well, perhaps. Gabrielle does. 6 MY LADY OF ORANGE I saw his eyes brighten as I spoke, and even the sneering secretary looked at me with more favour. " You choose a cause that can give little —and needs much, my friend," said the Prince. "And I can do much and ask little," I answered. " And your men ? " asked the secretary. It was a home thrust : my men had revolted —deserted— what you will — from Alva be- cause he would not pay them. Were they likely to serve Orange better, who could not ? " My men ?" 1 muttered. " J/adre ZJios, Alva would not give them their wages — well, they shall take them ! " 1 hree hundred men from fourteen thou- sand ! " said the secretary coolly. "Oh, the odds are his ; I knew that," I cried, " I knew that or ever I came to Delft." "Spain against the Netherlands.^ Philip against Orange ? " said the Prince dreamily. " Man against time ; iron against God ; whose are the odds, my friend.^" 1 1 AN AUDIENXE OF ORANGE 7 I did not answer. I wondered on which side God fought when tliree thousand men and women were shiughtered at Harlem, for it needed then a greater man than I to be- lieve God was on the side of Orange. Any knave believes it now. " Desperate t?^ks are all I can offer," said Orange. " Scant wages if your own efforts fail " — he paused, looking at me for a mo- ment — " scant wages and desperate tasks." " So only they be not impossible," said I. " For the wages — Alva ! " "The impossible God does every day," he answered. "You have come to me when the clouds are very black, sir. Alva lies before Breuthe : and if Breuthe falls how will you fare ^ ' I stood silent ; if Breuthe fell there was nothing left. "Will you take the risk?" he said (juietly ; his steady eyes fixed themselves on me. " I will take the risk of Alva's worst," I answered slowly. Call it folly if you will, you who never saw William, the first Stadt- holder. I was looking into his eyes. 8 MY LADY OF ORANGE He smiled. ^ " Alva lies before Breuthe town ; hang on his rear, cut off his convoys, let him never rest. Is that to your liking ? ' " I accept," said I. The Prince wrote for a moment and gave me a parchment. " I trust vour honour," he said. "And I pledge it," I answered. And the next morning we rode away from Delft, trusted deserters, three hundred men to fight fourteen thousand. I, John New- stead, captain of lances, came forth to pit myself against Ferdinando of Alva the greatest soldier in Europe. There' was one of us that had cause enough to regret my audience of Orange. CHAI^TER II THE USE OF A BRIDGE " So we have e'en changed masters, cap- tain," <,rrunted Caspar Wiederman, my lieu- tenant, as we jonrged along through the woods, in the crisp air of the early morn. " Well, it can scarce be for the worse," said I. " Ach! Who knows?" "Who knows?" cried Henri Vermeil at my other elbow. "Why, we all know; we cannot do more than we did for Alva, or \.orse; and. mafoi, we can scarce get less." " More defeats, no pay, no plunder. They sjy the Orange is pious," grunted Caspar. 'Well, well; he can pray for your sins, Caspar," cried Henri. "The good man will live on his knees." '• True, there are the convoys," said Caspar. "Ach! Halt!" We had come near the road. A few yards below was a mean little inn ; further away, 10 MV LADY OF ORANGE the road crested a liiH ; and, comin- quickly over the brow of the hill was a horieman all a one. \\',th two Ianc dune in an instant TIIH i:SE OF A HRIDGK n c:;uij;ht the Spaniard's neck in liis arm, threw his v/eiglu back and his horse on its haunches. Girl and Spaniard fell to- nrctlier. ''Gott' You may travel free, but not far, niy friend, not far," said Caspar, look- ing down at him. The girl had staggered to her feet, but tlie Spaniard still lay where he had fallen. Oh, the Spaniard was under, be sure of that! It was Caspar that threw him. " Alas ! the fate of incontinence, mon cker!'' cried Henri Vermeil. "What was yorr errand.?" I asked in Spanish. The fellow set his teeth, and said nought. "What was your errand?" I said again. Still he was silent. " Search him," I cried to the two that had come with us. "To Don Cuzman d'Astorgas. " These : " Press on with all speed, for that the King's serv'ce demands you come quickly. The bearer will be your guide.— Alva. ' Such was the purport of the paper he 12 MY LADY OF ORANGE bore. I read it, and passed it to Caspar. He shrugged his shoulders. "He seems anxious, the great Alva," said he. " Sangdieu ! This tells little," cried } lenri X'ermeil. " V'ou think so.>" 1 answered, and fell a-thinkinir. "Where is d'Astorgas .^ " at last I said tf) the Si)aniard. There was vn answer. " You are fond of silence, my kidnapper," said Caspar. "We can gratify you with the opportunity of eternal silence," Vermeil said with a chuckle. " I will wait three minutes ; then— speak or die," I said shortly. Ay, I knew he would never speak. Your true Spaniard IS hard as iron to others, but— give the devil his due— he is c ist in steel himself. "Will you answer.^" He shook his head. I nodded U) our two troopers. But the girl ran forward- 1 think we h^d all forgotten the girl~and caught my hands. " No, no," she cried. " He must not die." '' (rott ! 'tis his own choice," growled Caspar. THE USE OF A BRIDGE 13 " Will you speak ? " I asked again. " I die for the Faith and the King," he cried ; and I signed to the troopers again, and turned away, while the girl hid her face. " And I hope his 1' aith is a better colour than his King," grunted Caspar. The girl looked up. "You — are you of the Faith ? " she cried. "Oh! perliaps, mademoiselle, perhaps," said X'ermeil. " Of which Faith .-^ " I asked. " The Reformed — the Faith of Orange." "Ay, ay; our Faith is our master's," said Caspar. " We are in the service of the Prince of Orange,' I said. " Ah ! " she clasped her hands in joy. "Take me, take me with you." V^ermeil smiled behind his hand. '' Tenfell The ways of women!" said Caspar. "Take me to the Prince," she cried again. •'The Prince? Are you mad? You — a girl from an inn ? " The little minx drew herself up with something like a smile. ^■% »4 iMY LADY OF ORANGE " Yes, I, a "iri from an inn," she said. I looked at lier, and from her to Caspar, and from Caspar to Vermeil. Vermeil nodded. "You will ^ind I ani worth taking" she said, 1 eyed her again. Truly, she was a strange maid to come from an inn. Her hands were small and white, and on brow and neck ran the thin lines of blue under the clear white skin. A maid from an inn ! 'Scarce only that ; and so ^hc came \v-ith js on her way to the Prince. "And now for d'Astorgas," said I. " We know neither where he is nor what he does; only Alva is in a hurry," quoth Caspar. " Not where he is, truly ; he brings a convoy, I wager my horse," said I. " Shall we send him a g-uide ? " The two looked at me in silence. " Seal up the parchment again. One bearer is as good as another. ' The bearer will be your guide.' " Caspar chuckled, " We know not where he is," said Vermeil. ''Gottl I could smell a convoy ten miles off," cried Caspar. THE USE OF A BRIDGE 15 " You will go?" " Ay, I will go, and guide him to hell if you will." " Nay, not so far ; only to \'eermut bridge." " What is the use of a bridge ? " " Much — when it's broken," said I. So Caspar W'iedcrman mounted and gal- loped off to smell out Don Guzman, and we rode on towards the bridge of Veermut. By my side rode the girl, sitting her horse like a queen — steed and saddle Henri Vermeil had found her. The steed was the Spaniard's — a great iron-jawed Normandy stallion. For a litde there was silence. I was pondering how we had best receive Don Guzman, and ever and anon the thought would come across my mind, how would my men ever endure the service of Orange.^ They had been ready enough to leave Alva. Now it was done, how would they like the chancre ? And I, who cared nought for Alva, cared more than a little for the man I had seen but once— the thin, weary man, with the great dark eyes, at Delft. Suddenly, while I pondered : " Why did you kill him ? " asked the girl. i6 MY LADY OF ORANGE I looked up, startled. " So perish all the enemies of the Faith ! " quoth Vermeil. " Nay, not without repentance ! " she cried. "Repentance!" said 1. "A Spaniard repent ! " " Murder never aided a cause," she an- swered. " One cannot make war in white gloves," I said, and she answered nothino-. By long and by last we ca.f— to Veermut bridge, the narrow old woo . bridcre to which belongs the fame and the honour of the first hard blow struck at Alva the in- vincible. " To the bridge.^" you ask. Ay, to the bridge. On one side were Don Guzman d'Astorgas and Gaspar Wiederman and the convoy; on the other, Alva and Breuthe town ; and betwixt the two only a few miles of causeway and a river. Well, and we, too. "Halt!" I cried, and down I sprang to see what the bridge timbers were like. " \'ermeil, take a hundred men, go you a mile or more along the road, let them pass you, hang on their rear, see to it that the te THE USE OF A IJRIDGE 17 guard passes the bridge last. When they are all but over, charge on the rearmost, but do not come on the brid'^e." Vermeil bowed. " And the others?" he asked. •' There will be no others, W-rmeil." It were a long tale to tell : the sun was setting when d'Astorgas and his trusty guide came down the long narrow road with' Ver- meil hanging like a terrier on their heels. The convoy came on the bridge; the convoy crossed : the guard were packed thick be- tween tlie parapets ; and then suddenly came a Hash and the bridge jumped up a little at one end and fell sideways into the stream, with splash and clash and roar and shrieks all mingled, in a thick cloud of smoke. The engineer's is a useful craft. Out from the shelter of a coppice we charged on that hapless, defenceless convoy, and at the end of one wild rush Don Guzman's convoy had changed its owner. "6.V// Alva throve on our blood, belike we shall thrive on his food," quoth a gruff voice in my ear. "Caspar!" B 18 MY LADY OF ORANGE "Ay, Caspar, ca[)tain. I like a drier road to heaven than a broken bridge." "You led him easily?" •'Like a butcher the sheep! Gottl he asked me how to stave off Vermeil." cried Caspar with a laugh. " Ay, Vermeil is no fool," I answered. "No, no fool," grunted Caspar shortly. " No— fool." In truth. Vermeil had done well, and he brought his men safely across the river. though by Vecrmut the current is strong and the banks steep. " So we cry ' check ' to Alva ! " he shouted gaily. " Ach ! but not ' mate,' " quoth Caspar. Cantering down the hill towards us came the girl with the litde guard I had left by her riding behind. "Oh, it was splendid!" she cried while she was still far off: and then, as she came nearer and saw the men that lay bloody and torn and trampled before her horse's feet, she stopped sharply and wheeled round with a little cry. "Ach! the ways of women," quoth Cas- THE USE OF A BRIDGE ,9 par. " Now that is how I judge a charge.'' and he pointed to the dead beneath him. "Wiiat if she had seen Harlem!" said Wrmeil with a smile. G;ispar shru'^rged Iiis shoulders with a chuckle, and I sat silent looking at her as she walked her horse slowly away, with the troopers chuckling behind her. "Who mov(\s ne.xt. captain. Alva or we.^" asked Caspar. I turned to stare at him. " Dieu! the man is made of iron," cried X'ermeil. "The man need be iron whom Alva strikes,"' said I. "Ay, when he strikes," grunted Caspar with a sneer. I' How if we strike first .? " I asked slowly. "Ay, ay, that's war." quoth Caspar. ''GoU! that is no training for it. though," he said sharply, pointing to the convoy. " In truth he was right : a swarm of rascals were round a waggon loaded with wine casks, and more than one cask was broached already I galloped up. ''Cordieul stand back, knaves," I cried. "Fair words, captain; the fight's over; 20 MY LADY OF ORANGE here is your health," quoth one rascal with a mock bow. " 'S death! Do I command? Stand back! " "All in good " he began, but the sentence was never ended. It was no time to parley. I reached forward over mv horse's neck and fired, and the rascal's blo()d mixed with the spilt wine on the • round. "Do 1 command?" I thundered. "Ere morning we march. A fair portion oi meat and wine to every man, and. cordieu I no more. Vermeil, this is work for vou." Caspar and I rode back up the hill to setde our plans, and as wc passed the girl suddenly she turned her horse towa'-ds me. " Is two murders a day your custom, sir?" she asked. I did not answer ; a v/oman's scorn is not easy to answer. "Will you send me to the Prince?" she asked again. "When I can safely," said I. "And till then, sir?" "Till then you must trust me." "Trust — you!" she cried, and her eyes flashed cold, like steel. '^ CHAPTER III Tin: POSTERN GATE The moon had set, and all around us was dark as we broke our bivouac at Veermut and moved throuoh the pinevvoods towards Breuthe, with a cloud of skirmishers feelin^r our way. "Touch not the cat but tC .L,^love," saith the proverb, and in truth AIvi was a miahty cat. Three hundred men were we: four thousand, and Alva himself, lax before Breuthe town, and many more no lon" I asked quickly. ''Cordieu' not that it aids us; we can scarce ride through Alva's camp." " And the postern is to the south." '<■« 24 MY LADY OF ORANGE so," grunted Caspar. "How "Ach! wide?" "Wide enough for a miller's wain." "You know it?" I cried; she nodded. '•He can scarce have his lines close drawn with that force," said I, looking at Caspar. "No; but he wakes easily. Ferdinando Alvarez." ''Cordial! we will wak him! Double- horse half the convoy! .ad found us the postern, before whom the postern had opened to us ere she was borne a«ay m Ga.spar's eharge. Co.^,,,,, , ^.j^hed l>er ather l,ad struck me, and I believe I Should have borne the blow. THE POSTF.RX (;ATK "How came she here, sir?" he asked cahnly. "A Spaniard carried her away from an Inn beyond V'eermut. and wc caught him in the act. She begored us to bring her to Orange, and so she came with us. She " I looked at Caspar. " I charged. Mer horse bolted." g»-owlcd Caspar, and he did not look at St. Trond. "Ay, the Spaniard, the Spaniard every- where. Exsiirgc D.'vnnc, . . . She was left there ill when I came to Breuthe ; and I thought her safe in hiding." "Sir, we ought to have brought her safe. I would give my honour to do it nov ' " I cried. "Once, sir, you saved her, and I thank you. You have done your duty in full," said Laurenz de St. Trond. "There are twenty men in Breuthe would go alone into Alva's camp to save her were it possible for man" — he paused, and his lips trembled. "My Cod ! my Cod ! would it had been I ! " he cried with breaking voice, and then suddenly he turned to me. " And now, sir, to quarter your men," he said. H A COUNCIL (JI DKSI'All; ••'^vihceyesorGod.i I uill not I.avc a ml alive ^^•lthln the walls of Brcuthc ' " So the Duke of Alva had cried when his stonnin-^' party was beaten down ; and the men who Hurled back the best troops of Sp:u„ that day knew well what their fate would be if thcv failed then, or if they should fail thereafter ' but Alva's words had come true already, i he tanneries had ^^riven up their hides the trees were stript of their leaves, the verv nett es that grew beneath the walls wer^ plucked, and all had become food for the l^o Ilow-eyed, skin-cheeked men. who dun^^ still to the little shattered town. Rats were " luxury of the past in Breuthe. So I stood on tlie wall gazmcr at the charred tents in Alva's camp, and back again at the lean sentinels that paced by me, and I saw that the end must come very soon. Nay, it did not daunt 3* 4 A COUNCIL OF DES1>AIR 31 me ; I have yet to hear of the day when John Newstead was daunted. There, too, somewhere in tliat half-burnt camp, was Gabrielle de St. Trond, dead or alive ; and as I stood watchinqr I vowed it should go liard with the man who took her if she were wronged, even a little. And of aught else was there little hope. 1 walked slowly back to ni)- (juarters, and my chin was on my breast, and scheme after scheme went coursing through my brain. There Craspar and \'ermeil awaited me, and even X'ermeil looked solemn. "Ach! come at last, captain," grunted Caspar. I Hung down my hat. loosed my belt, and sat. "Am I needed .^ " quoth I. " Go^/! That is what I ask. A.re an}- of us needed here?" I looked at him lazily; indeed. I was not thinking of his words! Quite other things were in my head than the grumbling of Caspar; but he was in earnest. The broad red brow was bent in a heavy frown, his grey eyes were wide open and bright, and he sat with his head resting on a hand hidden in his thick curly hair. i 3:^ MY LADY OF ORANGE "Is Brcuthe so " Needed ? " I answered stronrr ? " \vc strengthen it ? " said Caspar "Do slowly. "Our food will not last long. Newstead's Company are not the men t'^o feed on nettl-s. What is the end to be, captain ? I like more than half a loaf, and there will not be halflong." " Mutiny against me? " I cried. "Nay, no one will mutiny," said \^ermeil smoothly; "but it is well to consider the wishes of the men." " Tciifcl! I say they will mutiny," quoth Caspar. "Men are men. Food is food. They'll mutiny SDoner than starve. Gott ! Do you blame them .> Will you dine off cat-gut too .^ " " Perhaps it is time to consider our plans," said Vermeil. "But no doubt you have some scheme, captain } " "Scheme.^ Com^ieu/ No; I have only one scheme for mutineers— the halter ! " "Then you need a lusty hangman!" grunted Caspar. " Have you done.^" I cried. " Done ? No ! The townsfolk don't trust ^ ^ A COUNCIL OF DESPAIR US. We shall have broken heads h)- the score soon, till Alva come in thirdsmau." "That is true." I muttered. "You can scarce expect Ereuth- to love the sackers of Marlem." " Ach! Xo; but we might have thought of that before." •'We fiorht with the men we have." quoth I. "1 hen why reckon them angels ? " gruni^^d Caspar. "Well, well." I said, -'what would you have me do, Caspar ? " The German twisted himself in his chair and scratched his head. Then he crashed his iiand down on th. table, and " This ' " he said. " We must fi^ht ' We came m tlirough Alva, and we mu'st go out through him too. \\V can leave the convov h-r. t - the Dutchmen. Teu/,/.' Alva has more than one. And we might find the wench in his camp ! " I looked at X'ermeil. He shrugged his shoulders a little. ^•' Ah ! What say you. Vermeil ? " I asked. There is much in Caspar's plan," said ^'--^ • There ,s one thing he has forgotten 34 MY LADY OF ORANGE We can feed the men on convoys, but it will be iiard to pay them the same vay." " Tiie wao-es of Orange ! " ! said. \'ermeil spread out his hands. "The wajres of Oran^^re? They will not take lonor a-counting," he answered. ''We must have money. W'e cannot get money by staying in Breuthe. and there seems little to be got by going out. It is unfortu- nate there is no other way." He paused, and Caspar and I both stared at the sleek olive face, and the twinkling green eyes. "As Caspar said very well, the men are not angels, and only angels and devils work for nothmg. Besides that, to break through Alva's lines again may not be so easy as^it was the first time, and Alva may not treat us kmdly if he takes us. \\'e have not deserved well at his hands. It is very un- fortunate there is no other way." Again he paused, and Caspar broke out : " Teufel! Man, are you turned raven with your endless croak .> There is nothing easy ; but we are desperate. Unfortunate ' unfortunate! unfortunate! A thousand fiends! Are you turned coward,'" A COUNCIL OF DESPAIR 35 " I say what yc^u say, my dear Caspar. VVe are. indeed, desperate; that is why our council is held. But I say it is unlucky we are desperate ; it is unfortunate we are con- strained to a course which must lose so many men, perhaps all. I say it would be better If we had a chrmce of makin.^. terms with Alva— for example. It would be better-if It were not impossible." " Ach ' why talk of the impossible?'' grunted tne Cjerman. "He will scarce be willing to treat with clesert.-rs, \ .rmeil went en. "and deserters who have nothing to giv^ and all to ask If only we did not come empty-handed!" he added with a sigh. •'Words, words!" said Caspar scornfully. I looked at Vermeil, and his eyes met mine for a moment and dropt ; for an instant, and only an instant, he seemed to smile. ;; There is just one thing we could aid him to. said Vermeil. Caspar shifted his chair. Ihe fruit IS all but ripe enough to fall, and yet he might thank the man who plucked it AM he sighed, "if we were not de.sertcrs we might sell Breuthe." 36 MY LADY OF ORANGE "Ten thousand devils! Sell Breuthe?" cried Caspar, dashing his chair hack. "Ay, we might sell Breuthe," 1 repeated slowly. Caspar sprang up and stood leaning over us with one hand on the table. " Sell Breuthe ? " he shouted. " I thought we were soIdi<.Ts, not a money-grubbing pack of traitors double-dyed ! Who made Breuthe yours to sell ? You come to the aid ♦' St. Trond here, you lose his daughter, and you sell his town! Mighty deeds' God in heaven! I tell y(ju I will hold Breuthe against you myself, I, Caspar Wiederman, against any ratting huckster in the town," and he stormed out of the room. " He seems moved, captain,' said X'ermeil coolly. "The men will follow the m.Hiey, eh .^ ' I asked. " Ma foi, yes: men are men, as the i^ood Caspar said." "If I go to Alva, will \()u keep peace in tlu^ town ? " said 1. "You — to Alva.^" .stammered X'ermeil. " He must know you brought us to Orangf^, Think of the risk. Send a message. I A COUNCIL OF DESPAIR 17 , •" There will be more risk in my meeting Alva before all is done," said I slowly. He stared at me in amazement, thinking he had scarce heard aright. " I — I do not understand," he muttered. "You will." I answered. "I will be my own messenger. At all costs keep the peace till you see me again." So, just as the sun was setting, a wiry man ill a cloak that hid his armour slipt out of the postern gate of Breuthe all alone, and turned towards Alva's camp. And behind me rose the grey walls of the town that had baffled the Spaniard so long, gilt and crim- soned by the rays from the west. Here and there, breaking the blue mist of the horizon, a dull red glare shone out, marking the forays of Alvas men. Some- where beyond the horizon, beyond the farthest stretch of AKa's arm, William of Orange. William the Taciturn, sat brooding over the travailing land. So I went forth to sell Bnuthe. •\ CHAPTER V T FI E LIONS DEN " Little man, little man. halt!" It was a stalwart, swarthy Walloon sentry stepped suddenly forward, shoutinj^. I judged he meant me by his words, and I paused. " I bring an offer to the Duke of Alva." I cried. "What.^ from the vermin - eater.=^ in Breuthe ? Nay, then, come on. We have wasted long enough over this mouse-hole. So you have eaten the last worm, eh, little man ? " " Yes ; we cooked it by the fire in your camp," said I. Nay. if you come to Alva, speak not of firing the camp, or you are like to^try a fire's heat yourself." "You liked it not, then.^*" I asked. " By Beelzebub! you had best bridle your tongue in time, little man, else But THE LIONS DKN 39 luTc is the uru.ird. Lieutenant, tlie little man has an offer for the Duke from Hreuthe." The lieutenant, a fox-faced Italian, looked at me sharply, "Why do you not come with a Hag of truce, knave ? " " Because I was not anxious to tell of my comin^nr to the rrood people of Breuthe." I answered quietly. " Ah. so ! " he said, and fixed his eyes on my face. "Well, what is your offer .^" he asked lightly. " It is to the Duke of Alva," quoth I. " Vou rate yourself high- -and your offer, too, my friend." " I know what both are." I answered. "Are you so sure .> Perhaps the Duke will teach vou better," he said, showing his teeth like a dog. •• \Vc shall see. Lead on, there." "Ay, we shall see." said I. Outside a tent rather larger than most we halted, and the lieutenant entered alone. Tlien I heard a rpttling Spanish oath from within, suddenly broken off, and a gruff Hi t ^ e ^ I 1 40 MY Lx\DY OF ORANGE voice speaking quickly ^md anxiously. There followed a moment's silence ; then a sharp command, and the lieutenant came quickly to bid me enter. Before me sat Ferdinando of Alva, the ^rreatest soldier in Europe, who wielded the forces of the greatest power in the world, the Master of dl the Netherlands save Breuthe town. And Breuthe town I had come to sell. Far away in Delft was William of (Grange, who had trusted me to do him what good I could. Ay, there sat Alva, with his long, lean, sallow face frown- ing at me from two yards' distance, caressing his iron-grey beard with a thin, sinewy hand! " Take away his sword," he said in a grating voice. I laughed. 1 his was not the way of Orange The huge fat man who sat by him stared at me for a minute. "Why, 'tis the Englishman. NewsteadI" he cried. Alva's forehead gathered into a frown, and the hand that lay on the table clenched hard. Then his thin lips parted, and he grinned like a wolf " Praise be to the Virgin ' " he said. " Ln THE LIOxN'S DEN 41 him be burnt by a slow fire under their walls." The lieutenant laid his hand on my shoulder. "Bethink you!" I cried. "Dead I shall do you little good ; alive I can do much." Alva waved his hand. " A slow fire ! " he repeated. The fat man— Chiapin Vitelli— bent over and whispered in his ear. I stood there waiting, the lieutenant's claw-hand still on my shoulder. Cordieu! I am no coward, but I do not wish to pass such minutes as those again. For a long time the two dark races hung near each other and Vitelli whispered on, while I could feel my heart beat, and Alva's steady cold eye never left my face. I do not think my colour changed. At last \'itelli ended. Alva stroked his beard once, twice, thrice Then suddenly the grating voice broke out again : " Why do you dare come here V he said. 1 started. I hardly knew what he said. "Why do you dare come here?"' he re- [THied angrily. "I— I bring yuw an offer." I stammered. m f ! ! f I ' • ^^ MY LADY OF ORANGE Vitelli looked with an air of triumph at Alva. "Ha! Breuthe will surrender? You will get no terms from me!" " Breuthe will never surrender! " said I. The wolf's look— it was never long absent —came back to Alva's face. " Well, your offer, your offer.?" said Vitelli quickly. " I will open the gates to a party of your men." " Ah ! " Vitelli said, and he smiled, looking sideways at Alva. "You may go," cried Alva to the lieu- tenant. "Is that all.?" he asked sharply, turning to me. "The rest comes from you, sir," I an- swered coolly. "With a pardon you will be well paid," he snarled. "I should, of course, request that," I said. " For yourself and your men," said Vitelli. "They are good soldiers," I answered; "they would be more use alive." " You want more ? " Alva asked sharply. THE LION'S DEN I bowed. "What do you ask?" "There was a girl we lost- 43 — " I began. Alva waved his hand carelessly. " Phoi you can buy her to-night for a few- ducats," cried Vitelli. "Girls are cheap," and he laughed. I looked angrily at the coarse, fat fiice, and I did not love Chiapin Vitelli, though he had saved my life a litde before. "Is that all .^" said Alva. "Would such a service be overpaid, sir, with seven thousand crowns ? '" " Seven thousand fiends!" thundered Alva. " By the eyes of God ! do > ou forget you are a traitor to the King and the Church, and in my power ? " " Breuthe is not, sir," said I. "And if Breuthe were fastened by chains to hell, I would break them ! Am I to pay a king's ransom to a heretic ? You shall be paid, rascal, you shall be paid! You shall repent asking money for aiding the cause of God!" Again Vitelli leant forward and whispered, and as he talked the angry light died out of Alva's eyes, and they both glanced covertly at me; and at last Alva (■ ; ' J i ■ ■I t 1 ' t- it 44 MY LADY OF ORANGE began to smile. Then V^itelli lay back in his chair and licked his lips. "As you are a heretic, rascal," he began, and coughed a little, "as you are a heretic. I suppose you must be paid for aiding us. Well, you shall be paid." He paused, and whispered to Vitelli. "A thousand crowns now, six thousand when you open the gates. Do you accept.^" I bowed. "As soon as it is dark to-morrow I will open the main gate," said I. "I would urge you send at least five hundred men." "I will send enough," said Alva, with a short laugh. "You may go. Vitelli, give him his hire." " I want a safe-conduct," I answered. "Fool, why should I harm you now.^" said Alva, with a sneer. "For the girl." said I. He scrawled on a parchment and tossed it across the table to me. Vitelli took me out and gave me a bag of money. ■'"There, my clever fool," said he, and laughed. Was I a fool.^ Ask Chiapin Vitelli now. Ill THE LION'S DEN 45 You will find him in — nay, I know not where you will find him. He was a brave man, and he saved my life — though the deed was better than the purpose. "And the girl.?" "The women's auction, fool. Listen and look ! " He pointed to a ring of yellow, smoky light in the midst of the camp, whence wild shouts and screams, and evil laughter came. A drum beat loudly. The auction of women ! Yes, that was ever the end of Alva's forays. The auction of Gabrielle de St. Trond ! That was the end of my foray. There stood the women : some silent, some sobbing loudly, some with their faces buried in their hands, some with their hands tied and -struggling yet, some standing still, dry- eyed, looking right on away and beyond, some praying, some laughing. God ! I have heard much, but .sometimes I hear those laughs still. I fought for Alv.i once. Some fool mounted a little platform, while my eyes wandered over the group eagerly. "Gentlemen of the sword, get ready your 1 46 MY LADY OF ORANGE purses. Sweet little love-birds we have for you to-night. Bring up the dark little filly Pedro!" ^ A girl scarce sixteen at most was dragged forward, and two fellows, each bearing a torch, took stand on either side her, so that ihe light fell full on her face. It was dully white, like the faces of men who have bled to death. " Here, gentlemen, a sweet object for your endeavours and your ducats. The ve-y Lily of Holland! Worth double to any honest gentleman when he nas kissed the roses back into her cheeks." He laid hold of her dress at the collar, tore it, held it open for a moment with a grin at the crowd, and then put it back. " No, gentlemen, I will not wrong the happy possessor," he cried. And the girl stood like death itself. " What are your bids, gentlemen?" The bidding reached three ducats. '• No more ? Will no cavalier go higher ? Nay, then, Julian, she is yours! " Her owner, a young thin-faced Spaniard came up with a smile, and led her away through the jeering crowd. As she passed THE LION'S DEN 47 me I slipt the hilt of my dagger into her hand. tor a moment she stared at me dully, and then all at once her face lighted up as she went by. Cordieul 'twas the saddest thmg I ever saw. Have I not done the like myself, you ask ? No. This is a game only the Span- iards play. Do you wonder the Dutchmen hate them.? ^ At last, ay, at last ! 'Twas she herself. <^od! I cannot tell how she looked I could not see then : I can scarce write of it now! There she stood. "Here, gentlemen, gay with the Orange colours-gold and white, and blue" the fello-vv touched her hair, and— pah ! I can- not write ii! "Ten crowns!" I shouted. "Ho. ho! here is a cavali-r with money comrades." the fellow turned towards me "And who may you be, seiior .? So fond of Orange, are you.? Why should i sell to you t I thrust through the crowd easily enough and I forced the safe-conduct into his hands' "Read it, fool!" I cried. 48 MY LADY OF ORANGE " Oh ! . . . a safe-conduct . . . through the hnes ... for the girl you choose . . . Alva. . . . Oh ! well, I suppose you must take her. Where's the money .^ " I flung the money hard in his face, and dashed my fist after it. "There is your price." I cried. "Will you jest with the messenger of Alva?" So Gabrielle de St. Trond and I hurried away from the auction of women. Neither of us spoke ; she held my hand and almost dragged me through the camp with half-mad strength. She would scarce pause while I parleyed for a moment with two sentries, and when at last we had left Alva behind us, she turned and looked at that camp with wide fearful eyes, and caught her breath and laughed a little sobbing laugh, and then the wet blue eyes looked up at mine. " I knew yvju would come ! " she said. "You knew.?" I cried. "Yes. 1 knew," she said again. "Tis my fault you were ever taken," I said .slowly. "I do not hope you can forgive me. I have done what I could since." VYe walked on in the moonlight in silence, THE LION'S DKN 49 "If— if I do not thank you—" she said slowly, -it is because I do not know what to say. I— I always believed you would come even come alone into Alva's camp to save me. Are any thanks enough for that ? " I did not answer her. Alone into Alva's camp-to save her.> Was that the reason? Vitelhs thousand crowns jingled under my cloak. ^ She stumbled over a stone and fell with i^ little cry. I bent over her and saw that her shoes were torn through. I picked her up and carried her. "I am sorry," she said, "but indeed I am very tired," and her head dropt on my si:oulder contentedly. So I walked on with ^abrielle m my arms, and the money inside my cloak. The wicket in the postern opened as I came up, and Vermeil met me with a frown. "Was that why you went, captain.?" he asked, pointing to Gabrielle, and the man at the gate chuckled. Gabrielle woke at the noise. "Let me go, let mc go to my father," she S3.1CI. so MV LADV OF ORAXGK "Ah, capiiiin, it's the way of the world." quuth V'criiv^il, solemnly shaking his head. " 'Tis always another " " See the lady be taken to tlic Ch)\ crnor's house," said I sharply. "Well, and what of Breuthc ?* " asked Vermeil, as we moved away. " He is nKjv- ing heaven and earth, and hell too, our good Oaspar. How did your errand prosper.^ " '' Coniieu ! man, let me sleej) ' Vou shall hear in the morning." "As you will," said Verm(;il sulkily. " But I should like to know if you went lor the Lfirl's sake or the mens. " CilAPTHR \I THL BARGAIN OF AJ.\ A But there was to be little sleej) for me that night. I went to my quarters, flung off my cloak, and sat. I was not ill-pleased with myself. And the bag of money looked better now Gabrielle had gone. You sneer ? Uell. I am but a man: and truly I had spoiled the Egyptians. O my honest friends, 'tis wc cruel, cunning soldiers who give you the chance to be honest in safety ! A heavy step sounded on the stair, and Gaspar Wiederman flung open the door. "Ach! so the fox is back in his hole" he grunted. " You must come with me. my brave captain ! Devil of devils ! have you got your wages already ? " he cried, and he caught up the bag of crowns. " I never waste time," quoth I. "Go^/! nor I. So come on, my brave traitor! 5» MY l.ADY OP ORANGK "Whither?" "To Laurenz de St. Trond, my pedlar!" " Laurenz de St. Trond ! " I repeated. " Does he know I " I be^an. "Ay, he knows," said Caspar, with a •^^rim chuckle. We went out into the street. As we passed the postern I saw it was j^jarded by burghers now. Some of my own men lounging in the doorways laughed as we went by. " Which side are we on, captain ? " cried one as I passed. "Only tell us, and we fight ! Only tell us ! " Caspar chuckled. " We are not all cowards ! " he grunted in my ear. But further on Vermeil met us with a little troop. "Do you go of your own will, captain?" he cried. " Yes," I answered. " Keen the peace ! " Vermeil fell back frowning, and Caspar chuckled again. We turned into the street where the burgomaster's house stood, and began to pass through a little throng of burghers. THE BARGAIN OF ALVA 53 When they saw my face they began to hoot and jeer and hiss. "Are you proud of your friends?" I said to Caspar, "This is your wages," he grunted. In a large bare room sat Laurenz de St. Trond and the burgomaster of Breudie town, talking anxiously together. "He came like a sheep!" quoth Caspar as we entered. The burgomaster scowled at me. He was a little man with red hair and a freckled face and nervous fidgety hands. "Two halberdiers!" he said in a piping voice, and two of their weedy citizen soldiers took their stand by me. St. Trond sat up in his chair, and I saw by his face that he knew I had brought his daughter back. The deep-set eyes were almost gay now ; but then as he looked at me they grew gloomy again. " John Newstead ! " he said in a low voice. " It is charged against you, that you, an officer, bearing the commission of William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, have been false to hin; in seeking to betray the town of , n 54 MY LADY OF ORANGE Breuthe into the hands of the enemy. Are you guilty or not guilty ? " Caspar chuckled. •' Not guilty ! " said I. St. Trend looked at me keenly, and his lips twitched as he bent his brows. He was trying to believe the best of me ; and — cordieu ! you will agree things looked black. But I saved his daughter. Caspar stept forward. " This afternoon he spoke 1 I MAN AGAINST TIMK" 75 ■' I will give thanks unto Thee, O Lord, with my whole heart." I heard the first words echoing over the town. "That will tell Alva who won, Caspar," said I. ''Come down, come down." " Ach ! captain, captain, that was a fight worth fighting," he said as he turned. " I never saw men fight better." "Than which?" '•Than either! Gott ! never will I laugli at burghers again. I wish our own were as stout." " Ay ; what in hell's name ailed Ver- meil ? " I asked sharply. Caspar shrugged his shoulders. "The fool near ruined us all!" I said. "Is he safe.?" " He is no fool, alive or dead, "quoth Caspar. The burghers were still singing, and the words rose with an exultant shout — "... The heathen are sunk down in the pit that they made : in the same net which they hid privily is their foot taken." The psalm ended, and the burghers drifted back to their homes for the sleep and the rest they had earned. f. ■ ! - ■ (lift M ? 7^' MY LADY OF ORANGE "Need we post nruards, sir?" asked the little burgomaster wearily. "A few at the gates were safer," I answered. "But I think the work is done." "God has been very gracious," said the burgomaster sleepily, looking round the dead. " Indeed, sir, the work is done." As he spoke the markei-place clock began to strike. One, two, three, the deep chimes rang out as we stood there silent, looking at our work ; the chimes died echoing away at last, and Gaspar's eyes met mine. " Midnight ! " grunted Gaspar. " The end of St. Bartholomew ! " I said. Was it chance ? Was it chance, senors ? I did not rise too early the next morning, but once risen I betook myself to the walls. Alva's tents still lay there grinning at the town ; but far fewer men were under them now, and the grin was like a toothless crone's. While I stood there St. Trond came up too, and stood locking at the camp in silence. At last he turned to me. "And so, sir. that— that work— was in vain," he said sadly. mi 'MAN AGAINST TIMF tj ••That work has not been done twelve hours yet," I answered. " I would to God it had never been done at all ! ' he cried. I shrugged my shoulders. He went on talking, \alf to himself. "And yet it is just," he said, "it is just. No good could come of such a crime." "Oh wait, wait," I said sharply. " For the crime— 1 will take the blane if I may take the credit too." "The blame is mine, who suffered you to persuade me," he said. " I told you 'twould drive Alva away ; you shall see it yet." He shook his head, and was turning away when Gaspar came up, "Gott! captain, work like that makes a man sleep well." St. Trond shuddered. " Have you seen the market-place this morning ? " he asked of Gaspar. "Ay, a grand sight! There they lie, higgledy-piggledy, our good Spaniards. Ach ! 'twas a good fight ! And so Ferdinando has not gone yet .<* " St. Trond hurried away. Ay, he was a ! I I MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART ANSI Of.d ISO TEST CHARi No 2) 1.0 I.I ■ 50 =^= IL. .. 140 1- ^ III 2.5 I 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 A APPLIED IK^^GE 1653 East Mam Street Rochester. New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Pt-one (716) 288-5989 -Fox il hA Hi 1 78 MY LADY OF ORANGE good man and a brave-, but %hting was not his work. The stubborn Ferdinando ! " quoth Gaspar. " I wonder if you have been too clever, captain ? " I did not answer. I did not believe I was wron^cr, but if, after all, it had been in vain, if Alva could still cling to the town, there was no hope for Breuthe, or for any- inside its walls. Alva would scarce be turned to mercy by last night's work. The thought was not comforting. " He must go ! " I said sharply at last. Gaspar did not hear : he was looking with a sneering smile at another figure which drew near. " Ho, ho : here's the Frenchman, captain," he said. " Corf^ihf ! yes. \'ermeil, why did you fail to charge at the drum } " I said angrily. " Because I did not hear the first beat," said Vermeil, looking me straight in the face. Gaspar laughed gruffly. " It is— possible," I answered. 1 think he knew what I meant— at least he gave me as good again. ■MAN AGAINST TIME' 79 "And that Alva may go is — possible, " quoth he. We left him on the walls, and Caspar and I went down to the market-place, where the sunlight tell across men maimed and mangled, and writhing in torment, crying aloud with curses for water, and then falling back on the hard, red, greasy stones. 7^he wounded and dead of the burghers had been carried away with the earliest dawn, and only the Spaniards lay there now. But moving about among them were women with water and wine, and Caspar and 1 looked at each other, and we both swore together. The burgomaster was clearing away the barricades, and to him we came. '• Ccrdieu ! sir, do you allow this ? " I cried. •'There will be murder ere long; a dagger in the breast will end this charity." 'Ay, a Spaniard is harmless when he is dead, " grunted Caspar. " It is but Christian duty, sir," quoth the burgomaster. " Christian duty ! Christian donkeys ! " burst out Caspar. "Did you start it?" " Well, indeed, gentlemen, I too thought II 80 MY LADY OF ORANGE If il danger but- it was dangerous, but — but — me daugnter of the Governor — she said— she asked— she said— was I a murderer as well ? And I did not know what to say," " As well, eh ? Grateful girl, captain ! " " She is there! " I cried. "Yes, sir. If you, too, wish it stopped and think it dangerous, I will do what I can," squeaked the little burgomaster, trot- ting along at our heels as Gaspar and I hurried across the dead. She was bending over a young stalwart Spaniard with a wet, ragged, gaping wound in his chest. As I saw his face I started ; it was the man who had put her up for sale ! I put my hand on her shoulder. "This is no place for women," said I. She looked up, and winced as she saw^ my face. For a moment she could not speak, and in that moment, while my eyes were on her face, the ruffian at our feet stabbed upwards. But Gaspar, standing beside me, saw it, if we did not, and caught the arm and held it fixed. " Look, mistress," said he. She turned, and started back with a cry, and I ran the fellow through. A wounded man ? Yes. U "MAX AGAINST TIME ' Si " I told you it was not safe," I said. She put out her hand to thrust me away. " Do not speak to me! Do not speak to me ! " she cried. "Ach! the ways of women," ^jrrunted Caspar. " Indeed, you wron^c^r the orentleman," cried the burgomaster. " He saved your life. And it is not safe to wander among these wounded men : if it must be done it is not work for women." " And would men do it ? ' she cried. " Not I," quoth Caspar. " And yet you— it was you made it thus, ' she said, turning on me. " It was I," I answered. '• Will you go ? " ^ " I wi'l not! Oh. have you no heart at a!I.> Can you see them lying here in th^ heat ? I will not go ! " " I say you must," said I. " I will not!" " The work was given me to do by your father, and I will do it to the end. I will not throw good lives after bad. Will you make me call a guard to clear the market-place ? " " Vou— you will force me .^ " F I i|IJ fir ; 82 MY LADY OF ORANGE n ^i'^ r:: " If you ask for force. " " Ah ! " She drew in her breath with a sob. Then she called the other women round her and hurried away. " I did not think there was anything so cruel as you in the world," she said, looking back. "And yet she has been in Alva's camp," grunted Caspar. I stood there looking after her, with many thoughts in my head. Two months ago I should have cared little for any one calling me cruel, but uow the words rankled. I was right, I knew I was right ; that is not always enough ; a man likes other people to think him right too. I turned sharply t(j the burgomaster : " We must clear this place and bury the dead, or we shall have a pestilence upon us." " Yes, sir. I will see to it. I hear Aha has not gone yet," he said meekly. Last night's courage had gone. " He will," I answered. " He must." " I trust so, sir." The morning passed into afternoon, and the sun grew hotter, as I sat on the walls watching the camp. Alva's batteries spoke I "MAN AGAINST TIME" Ss once and again, and once and again a shot from the town repHed. The walls were thick with watchers, for all knew we had played our last stake. Our last card lay on the table, and tliey waited to see what was m Alva's hand. Towards evening Alva's batteries fired more often, and faces on the wall grew long. My men were quiet enough ; twenty crowns apiece that morning had given them much trust in me; but the burghers, who had more to lose and less reason far to believe my way the best, now looked askance at me again. And as Caspar and I walked back to our quarters for a scanty meal, the little throngs at street corners hissed and jeered. Darkness came over Breuthe, and the watchers went back to their homes to pray. The wind had gone round to the west, and clouds were scurrying over the dark sky. Caspar and I stood by a tower on the ram- parts alone. There were lights and fires in the camp below us. •' A good night for flitting," quoth Caspar. " Ay," I said shortly. For hours we stood there silent, the only noise near us a sentry's footsteps or the if ,' I- S4 IV LADY OF ORAXGH gratinj; of the stone as we shifted our feet. But from the camp came a steady hum, as always : a S{)aiiish camp does not sleep early. The niL,dn ^^rew blacker yet. and the stars went out slowly. There came a spot or two of rain, and Caspar pulled his cloak round him. One by one the fires in the camp died out into the blue darkness, and the rain began to patter on the walls. Suddenly the wind dropped for a moment, and we heard a dull sound coming up on the wet air. The wind blew gustily again, and we could hear nothing but the pelting rain. But, ere long, the blast was over, and the rain fell stniight ; and as we strained to listen, the same dull sound reached us — fainter a little, now — with a steady, ordered movement like the tramp of feet. Caspar's hand fell on my shoulder with a thud. "We win, captain, we win," he cried, and there on the wet walls, with the rain beating: through to our skin, we gripped hands hard. Soon a bright grey streak came out on the eastern sky, and the pale light struggled through. The tents of Alva were gone ! Along the walls one man cried to another. W% ••MAN AGAINST TIME' 85 and men, half dressed, came running out of their houses to see if the shouts were true. The streets grew dark with men and women greeting one another wildly, standing there in the rain, laughing and crying in mad relief. As we passed along, they caught us by the hand, the arm, the cloak, and the children danced in front of us, and the women pressed their lips to our hands. Hardly could we struggle on through the gathering crowds, and the cheering grew and grew to a loud, deafening roar. " Ay, they cheer now," grunted Caspar. And then the rain stopped, and the sun broke through the clouds, and there far over the bare plain a man on the wall saw Alva's army moving slowly away, and broke into a psalm as he saw it. O Chiapin Vitelli, was I the fool } - a ^ ■ 111 'i CHAPTER VIII THF. WAYS OF DESEUTFRS "Sir, this is a day of good tidings!" It was the h'ttle burgomaster came tip-toeing into our room ere we had sat. "Sir, this is a day of good tidings. God has been ver;, gracious unto us!" The poor man was breathless in his hurry, but he carried his head very high now ; quite other was he than th(' hesitating fool of the day before. " And to you we owe much," he went on. "All has fallen out as you said. Breuthe will never forget who made the plan that saved her; and truly, sir, in some sense I owe you an amend. I confess that yesterday I doubted your wisdom. I was wrong, sir." " Do not speak of it," said I. He bowed. "We must send a message to the Prince, sir. I think every horse in the town is yours." "Yes, we shall not have to eat them now," £6 TIIF WAYS OF DI-SHRTF.RS 87 said 1. "1 'vill provide a incsscncrer ; am! for the present — pardon me, but we were on the walls all night." " You shall not have cause to call us ungrateful, sir," he said. " I bid you farewell. " Caspar had said nothing since we entered the house, and he listened to the little burgo- master without a smilt;. Even after the burgomaster had gone he sat staring at the table. At last he sprang up. " The little man is right, captain," lie cried. " 1 was wrong again. I ask your pardon. I doubted you yesterday, too. We have fought together near ten years. 1 had less excu.se. Captain, after this I would follow you to hell." I put my hand in his. Better soldier or truer friend than Caspar never walked this earth. How much of the credit for saving Breuthe belongs to him you know who have read this tale. How much he has done for me I think no one can ever know. There in that little room I took up a pen : "What shall I say, Caspar?" "'Breuthe is safe: 7to es 7iada'"' quotli Caspar. Ai, I. 1 'i llj.l 88 MV LADY OF ORANGK "1 have the honour to inform your lli^rh- ness th.it f!ic siege of Hrcutiic is raised. "John Nlwstead." I read the words as I wrote them. " Who shall we send?" I asked. "Go^/f Send Vermeil. Me will like the job," grunted Caspar. And so it was done ; we sent Vermeil and we went to bed. Late in the next day came great news : a courier came to the town with letters for the burgomaster and St. Trond telling how Alkmaar had closed its gates and declared for Orange. These were the first-fruits of the long siege of Breuthe. If a little town could hold out so long, a larger might hold out longer ; so they thought in Alkmaar ere they heard of the raising of Breuthe's siege. Tidings of that would scarce make them more disposed to surrender. So Breuthe was very joyful, and only a few men who knew that Alkmaar would provoke all Alva's strength, who knew how strong Alva was, and who remembered that the force before Breuthe would now be added to the others marching on Alkmaar under Till-: WAYS OF DESKRTKRS 89 i)«'n Frcdcrico. Alva's son — only these feu looked y^rave. "AchI why could they not wait for the wintvT • " nrrunted Caspar. •' Then would be the tine to take sid<;>. when t oops cannot move I " So he said, and so I thought, too, while ihe people of Breuthe sung psalms of thanks- giving. You shall see which of us were right. Vermeil came back with answers from Orange loud in praise of us all, which bade us send an escort to Delft that he might come to thank us himself. But the next day came some one with tidings of greater moment, a German deserter from Alva's force. The burgomaster came bustling round to tell us and bid us to a council at his house. Caspar was just about to start with the escort lor Orange as he came, and so I went alone. Laurenz de St. Trond was there. I had not spoken to him since the morning after the fight in the market-place. " And so, sir, good has come of the crime, after all.?" said I as I entered. He looked at me gravely. n I ( .' 90 MY LADY OF ORANGE " A crime is not less a crime because it is successful— or profitable," he said slowly. The burgomaster had orone to bid his ser- vants brinq- wine, and we were alone. "And yet I was right," 1 answered; "it was the only way." " You have raised the siege of Breuthe. Yes. You are a better soldier, sir, than I Perhaps it is not for me to judge you, but I would rather have been one of those men you betrayed to their death than you ! " I stared at him : this was another tale from the burgomaster's ! My plan had suc- ceeded, and the burgomaster had talked of the grace of God, but St. Trond liked it none the better for that. Well, I am no saint — you have found that out by now — but I did not feel inclined to boast to St. Trond any more. The burgomaster canie back with his wine. "Gentlemen, the information is this," he began solemnly. "Alva is marching with all his force on Alkmaar ! " " I could have told that." said I, sipping the wine. 16 THE WAYS OF i)ESERTERS 91 > i " He is marchingr by Herpt and Haring." I put the wine down. " Ah ! this is the deserter's tale," said I. "The question to decide is what action we are to take," quoth St. Trond. I stared at him. " What action ? Why. none," I cried. " Men from all quarters are "gathering to Alkmaar," .said he. " It is .said there will soon be fourteen thousand men in the lines." " Probably more," said I. " Still you advi.se us to do nothinor? " said St. Trond quickly. " Cordicu ! yes ; because we can do no- thing. Alva has three thousand still. We cannot make a thou.sand to march. The risk is too great. And what should we gain if we won? If we lost we bring him back here." '' But how will Alkmaar fare } ' cried the burgomaster. "Charity begins at home," I said drily. St. Trond's eyes flashed. " You were ready enough to fight men in a trap," he answered scornfully. "I am ready enough to fight when aught can be gained," said I. II' ■ •!l •l! * 92 MY LADY OF ORANGE " I wonder if you ever fought without thinking of yourself," St. Trend said. "I fight for the man who pays me'" quoth I. St. Trond looked at me sadly, and so fixedly that my eyes fell, and then he began to speak softly, as if we were alone. " There was a man went into Alva's camp, and one thing that made him go was the wish to save a girl of whom he knew little, because he fancied he had fiiiled in his duty to her before; and there Vv-as a man took money from those-hc led to their death ; will you tell me which man is giving counsel now?" •' Cordieu! both," I cried. " I had to pay my men— let that pass. What is it that you would do .-^ " " I would attack Alva ! " said he. "Heaven above us! Where.? How? With what force?" •' Between Herpt and Haring. With those who will follow me. ' " 1 should guess they will be few. So you lake Alva's route on the word of a deserter ? " "Is he the only deserter we have trusted THE WAYS OF DESERTERS 93 ' in Breuthe?" he asked. Ay, it was a fair thrust, and I did not gainsay him. " Then you will go, in spite of all ? " I cried. " If the men of Breuthe will follow me." He rose and went out and left the burgo- master and me looking at each other. " Indeed, sir, I think the Seigneur de St. Trond spoke harshly more than once " began the burgomaster. "He is going to destruction,' I said sharply. " Will he get men to follow him ? " "There are men in Breuthe — many a one — would follow anywhere he led," said the burgomaster. "Do you think, sir, there is no chance of success ? " "Chance.^ There may be a chance. But the risk, man, the risk!" said I. "What in the devil's name made Alkmaar rise when Alva's forces lay all around it ? " " Sir, it is better to die for a faith and die free than live under Alva and the Inquisi- tion," said the burgomaster quietly, I sat silent, playing with the wine-glass. A man does not like to find others braver than himself Yet why risk so much for a III 94 MY LADY OF ORANGE town that chose to rise at an ill moment? The cause of Alkmaar was the cause of Orange, and I was a soldier of Orange. Ay, a soldier, and it was not war to risk my men on a bare chance. But St. Trond seemed still there with his steady eyes, and there was something grand about the man ready to throw his life away for the sake of those fools in Alkmaar. Fools ? Were they fools ? I had done what no man in Breuthe could do —torn the town out of Alva's grasp ; and yet more than once before St. Trond, ay, even before the burgomaster, I had felt myself ashamed because my thoughts were not like theirs. Is a man a fool because he does not always follow his brain ? Such were the thoughts that ran in my head as I sat in that wainscoted room, with the empty wine- glass in my fingers, and I sat there long while the little burgomaster watched me in silence. At last he left me, and I still sat thinking. Suddenly the door opened and Gabrielle de St. Trond came in. I turned, and she drew back. " I thought— I thought the burgomaster was here," she said. t^r* '» If ^i To .ittuck Alva ? Wilh s.i f, l-W lUCIl . :; A THE WAYS OF DKSHRTHRS 95 "Your father and he have both been here, and gone." She took a step forward. "You — do you know where my father has .14 one . ? I saw him march out of the gate. W'liere is he going ? " " He is going to attack Alva ! " " To attack Alva ? With so few men ? " " With all the men who would follow him," said I. " You — you would not .'' " " I would not." " I might have known. I might have known," she cried. "You, oh you can be cruel to the helpless ! You can even fight, if your pay is large enough ! But to fight fairly, only for the cause — no, you will not risk that ! You would rather see others g() to their death." "It was not with my good- will he went," said I. "You thought it too dangerous.^" I bowed. She laughed shortly. "If you take me for a coward, remember I went into Alva's camp," I cried in anger. " I wish I could forget," she said softly. n 96 MV LADV OF ORAXGH and I s;ivv the blue of her eyes grow darker behind the tears. Yes, I had been thinking hours ; and the end of my tlioughts had come. I looked at the drooping head ; and I rose and went out silently. I hurried through the streets and found a trumpeter. " Sound boot and saddle! " I cried. rh(; men came grumbling into the market- place, but ready enough to light: a little success goes far. "Where's Vermeil.^" I asked Zouch when we were mustered. "Went with the burghers, captain!" said he. "With the burghers.' Vermeil with the burghers ? " " Ay ; oil and vinegar, eh, captain ?" 1:1 CHAPTKR IX HIKhLINGS' liATTI.E; 1 HE day was far gone wl vve trotted quickly al and len we set out, road, through th the shadows lenoth e cool fraL^r; ong the level int air, with littl ening beside us. A e on the Hank I rode alone, for indeed 1 had much in my mind. Where we slmuld find St. Trond, where we should hnd Alva, what we should do when we found either-none of these things I knew, burely never did soldiers march on an errand as unknown as this! Why had I come ^ I knew, though I would scarce confess it' even to myself; it was because Laurenz de St. 1 rond thought me a cowardly knave • •t was because I sought to save the men he had taken with him ; it was because we had a chance to hurt Alva ; it was for anything but because a girl had cried. What was h f^ sa.d ? She wished she could forget I liad come to Alva's camp. She did not G 1 ; i i# I ' ?> f 98 MV LAUV OF ORANGE forget, tlien ? \ay, I could not forget it either, liut sh(^ wlio thought me a mur- derer, half a traitor, money-seeking, cruel, yet remembered tiiat I had saved her. I thought of how she had looked at me, how her head had nestled on my shoulder ere she knew all that I had gone to do and all that 1 had done in that camp. Oh, l;Mgh if you will ; I did not repent, I d(j not repent now, of the way I saved Breuthe. Judge the deed altogether, think of the end as well as the means, and say, was I wrong ? But was she wrong either.^ I had fought for Alva more years than one ; is it likely that I was a better man than she fancied ? It grew dark, and still we pushed on. St. Trond's men must have marched well, for though they had many hours' start of us we were mounted and they were on foot, and yet we had to halt, and water and rest our horses without finding them. I would have marched again almost at once, but Zouch came grumbling up : "I don't know what you want, captain; but 'tis little use catching: Alva if we founder the horses to do it." HIRELINGS BATTLES yg So Wf. iialted for two liours, and I lay wrapt in my cloak, sleepless, watching the stars. xMorning dawned over the plain red and clear, and at last, away to our right, we saw a cloud of dust moving cjuickly! The sun rose higher in tl e sky. and now there was another and a bigger cluud farther off than the first. We began to trot faster. "Curse it. there's no cover." I muttered. "What's he trying for.^" Zouch asked. "Who, St. Trond.? How should I know.?" I said angrily. " Ought to have some one with him to tell him what to do, I reckon," Zouch growled. "Are we not with him.?" said I sharply. " Umph ! he's there ; we're here." Alva's line went straggling thin and long, and St. Trond still marched on its tlank. ''Cordicu! I think they are both fools together," I cried. " Why not— ah \ " Oh! it was the chance— the chance of a lite-time. Had I but been with St. Trond ! Had I but been a mile nearer! Two waggons broke down across the road, and the^^^ear- guard halted perforce; but the van knew I! •m #ff loo MY LADY OF ORANGE nothing of it and kept on the march, and for a moment right in the middle of Alva's force there gaped a hole. Had I but gone with St. Trond at first ! St. Trond hesitated ; he was not a soldier by trade, and to plunge into the middle of Alva's men was a thing he would not do without thought. He hesitated, and the chance was gone ; the van turned and closed again, and then — then, when they were all ready for him, St. Trond lUing his men at the Spaniards. I can guess how Alva looked ; I can see the cold, sneering smile come over his lips ; I can hear the harsh orders. It was a task after Alva's own heart to crush six hundred men with three thousand. St. Trond's pike- men charged — they charged well, I will not gainsay that — and Alva gave back a little before the charge. Little by little his centre fell back, and little by little the wings advanced ; slowly the circle closed round St. Trond. Alva was to have his revenge for the market-place ; and he sat there (many times have I seen the like), sat quietly, slowly stroking his long thin beard, with the pupils HIRELINGS' BATTLES lOI of his eyes ^romu^ bi^irger, and his lips bent in ,1 criu.'l smiliiiLj curve. h was well planned, and carried out as well. But one thin.; he fc^ri^ot, and that was the horsemen I led, He should have seen us sooner; perhaps he did. and yet could not -uess what we were. For. indeed, it is a stranL,re design to march with pikemen two miles in front of their cavalry. Whether he saw us not wc saw him. " Charge ! " I shouted. " Charge ! l/wefi/ les giieux '/' " Vivent hs oucux'" the men shouted in a.iswer, and. with the war-cry of the Netherlands thundering on before us, we swept down on Alva's wing. They tried to strengthen it, but the time for that had gone by, and ere any support had come we had crashed down on their flank, and were break- ing through to where St. Trond's pikemen rolled like a hedgehog in the midst. We were throuofh. " Break out, break out on your right flank ! " I ..houted to St. Trond, as we turned our horses and rode back again, cutting down the broken ranks as we passed. The nike- 11 1^ » h I02 MY LADY OV ORANGE men fought their way through, unbroken yet : the jaws of Alva's trap had closed in vain. "Fall back, back to the higher ground,'" grunted Zouch. Ihe light was not over yet. Alva would not give up his prey without a struggle, and his hDrsemen were waiting for a chance to charge. They never found it. While they changed ground to try and draw vi away, we galloped down towards Alva again, and, thinking their time was come, they started towards our pikemen. Suddenly, ni the midst of our charge, I swung the men round to the left, and we took tht)se hapless Spanish t.roopers in flank, and cut through them as a tight string cuts through cheese. So we came round to St. Trond, and the Spaniards fell back and formed again behind their foot. "You will fall back on the town.^" asked St. Trond as I came up. "We have lost very many." "Ay, but not too fast," said I. Though, indeed, the Spaniard did not threaten more. "We came out si.x hundred strong, and we are little more than four !iow," quoth St. Trond. " And you ?" HIRELINGS' BATTLES '03 "Oh, vvc have lost some," said I. Just then Vermeil came up. " You did not grudge me to the burghers, captain ? " quoth he. "Cordieu' no; but you might have kept them out of this mess." " I was not in command." said X'ermcil : " I was not in command." Slowly we fell back on Breuthe. smaller, gloomier companies than had gone out the day before. I rode alone still. I could not be with St. Trond, for I knew now that if I had listened to him we might have broken all Alva's force. If we had only been together when the chance came! Had I thought less of the risk, and more of the cause to which I owed service, we might have struck a great blow that day. So St. Trond had been right to sneer, after all, since I could not fighl without thinking of myself. You may guess how proud I felt as we rode along the sandy paths. What was that ques- tion I asked myself yesterday; "Is a man a fool because he does not always follow his brain .^ Well, I knew now that a mai" was a fool if he followed nothing else. There are "■■ \ [\ in- r : 104 MY LADY OF ORANGE not many times in my life when I have felt worthless and mean ; but here was one, at least — cordieu ! here was one. St. Trond, too, rode silent and apart, and when I looked covertly at him once or twice I saw his face was very grave and sad. At last he ,purred his horse over to me : " I was wrong, sir, and yoii were right. Will you let me take my words back.? I have thrown away two hundred lives that I might have saved if I had believed you. But for your skill and courage I should have lost all. I cannot forget what I said to you ; may I hope that you can forgive it ? " "In God's name, say no more!" \ cried. " Why talk of forgiveness from me to you } " " I admit, sir, I was in the wrong. I cannot do more." "You were in the right," I said sharply. " I ought to have come with you. What is the use of words now } " " It was, indeed, a task too great for me," he answered sadly and moved away. You may guess that that was not what I meant my words to say. There is nothing stirs me more than praise when my deserts are blame. W mm flt^iifwTl HIRELINGS' BATTLES 105 At last, when it was growing dark, we came to Breuthe, and there gathered round us a pale, weeping, trembling crowd to learn that two hundred men— their husbands, their brothers, their sons— who marched out yester- day lay stiff and cold on the plain now. St. Trond rode slowly through the throng, with his hat pulled down over his brows, and they fell back in silence, with angry looks, to let him pass. Then when I came a little after they called down blessings on my head. Such was the justice of Breuthe. " Has the Prince come ? " I asked the burgomaster. " No, sir, not yet." " Strange, cordieii ! strange, Vermeil, is it not.>" " He may not ride quickly, captain." " He has had a full day," I answered. " We broke the bridge at Veermut." But the hours went by, and still the Prince and Caspar came not, and the moon was out ere there came a thunder at the main gate and a cry. " Teu/el! Are you all asleep.^ " " Who are you > " cried the guard. m 'I \ H 106 MY LADY OF ORANGE " Ach ! I am the body-guard of the Prince oi Orange ! " The gate was (lung open, and there came in WiHiam of Orange, riding a jaded horse ; and walking at his side, holding by the stirrup-leather, Caspar Wiedermdn, covered with dust and splashed with blood. The guard ran forward, crying anxiously : " Your Highness is safe ? " •' Thanks to this gentleman. I am safe and alive in Breuthe," quoth the Prince with a smile. I came running up bare-headed, roused by the noise. " You were attacked, Caspar? " I cried. "Ach! do you think I wnlk for plea- sure : "Shut the gate, knaves!" I said, for the fools had left it open. " There is no need," said the Prince calmly. ■' There are no pursuers." " Teufel: there are none to pursue," grunted Caspar. The Prince smiled and dismounted. "And it is you. sir. I liave to thank for s; ing the town," he said, holding out his mirp:lixc,s' rattlfs 107 liand to me. " I little thought 1 had made so good a bargain when you came to Uelft. Your dispatch was something of the shortest, but ilie news needed no phrases to set it off. I fear I have left ycjur escort behind me. They fought bravely, sir, and few of those that beset us live to tell the tale " " Ach ! none by now," grunted Gaspur. "Where were you attacked, your High- ness ? " I cried. " They — Alva — had laid an ambush by the river at X'eermut to attack us as we crossed. Your men held them in play while my horse swam the stream. Even then but for your lieutenant I should have been in ill straits. Your men were outnumbered, and four Spaniards crossed the river after me. My friend here had lost his horse, but he swam across alone. My pistols served for two, his sword for the others. I know not how many thp.t sword had slain before." " Four, I think— or five," said Caspar solemnly. "It was twenty to fifty, captain. A good fight ! " " If ail your men fight as well," said the r-ince, "it is not a regiment you brought !*f 108 MY LADY OF ORANGE me at Delft, but an army. Even Cornput will believe you are worthy now." "Oh, we fight, some of js," grunted Caspar, St. Trond came hurrying up. "Your Highness," he^ broke out, "I come " "Ah, Laurenz, my friend." said the Prince gaily; "and so you give me a virgin citv back ! " ^ ) "If the town is safe, it was not I who saved it," answered St. Trond slowly. " And this day I have lost two hundred men through my folly. I went out to attack Alva wi'th SiX hundred burghers against the advice of better men than I. I brought back only four hundred, and had it not been for Master Newstead here, who risked himself and his men to save me and mine, not one of us had come back to the town. I was unequal to the task you gave me." The Prince looked at him sadly and kindly. " Laurenz. Laurenz, have you forgotten my campaign against Alva.^" he said. "I was worse beaten than you. for I had no army left at all." ■St.j# HIRELINGS' BATTLES 109 '* If I had been willinc; to go with the Seigneur de St. Trond at first," I cried, "it might have been a victory." "Indeed, gentlemen, it seems to me you have done very well. Once I had all but given up hope for the town itself. For the two hundred lost 1 am sorry— I am sorry," he repeated slowly, " but you will not make me believe it was the fault of either of you." But I knew — by Heaven I knew! ; ! ( - (I iM' I' CHAPTER X IN TIIK CARD F.N I WO days afterwards, (-»r more it may be. I vNas iji the burgomaster's garden. The name was a mockery. While the siege still lasted an)thing that men could bring themselves to eat was too precious to be left, and so all over the trim square beds the brown earth lay bare alike of flowers or leaves. There was food in the city now ; grain that Alva could not wring from the peasantry poured in freely for us, and the burghers knew what a meeil meant again. But, away across the plain, Alkmaar was passing into the trouble Breuthe had lately know^n. Ther_ were sixteen thousand men before it now, and there might have been three thousand less. With that thought in my head, I was pacing up and down the garden. Gabrielle came out of the house : she put her hand up to her eyes to look through the sunlight, standing there by the door, a slim 1 ii^ m IX THI. GARDEN III figure clad all in white. I watched her— I could not hcl{) watching Jier—but when she came towards me I turned away. But her steps made straight for me, and I turned again to meet her. " I — 1 have not seen you since," she said, not looking at my face. " I have come to ask you — to tell you how sorry I am." "For what.^" said I— though, indeed, I knew. "For— for what I said. Oh, how it must have hurt you ! " " I deserved it." "No. no ; I thought you meant to let my father go alone, and " "And I did." " But you went ! " she cried. " Do you know that if I had gone at first, if I had not thought of my own safety, we could have crushed Alva ? If we had struck together there was one moment when his fate lay in our hands. If your blame stung then, how much do you think your praise stings now } '' " But you saved my father " she said quickly. i ^< llfl "2 MY LADY OF ORANGE "It was my fault he was in danger." "He said— you were ri-ht—you were wiser-if he had hstened " the words did not come easily. "Wiser!" said I, with a bitter laugh. " If he had listened to you," she persisted, "he would not have lost th(; men." "I was wrong; your father was right. I «ay it. Is ncn that the last word ? " She looked up then straight into my eyes, and I saw that her face was Hushed a little and her eyes bricrht "No," she answered; "I was wrong, too," " Oh, will you not let it end here.!*" I cried. "I called you— cowardly. At least that was wrong.?" she said plaintively. ''You had good excuse," I answered. " But if— if you are a coward, and if It was wise to go and you are not wise, why did you go after all ? " she asked, with a little ■smile. I did not answer for a little, and her eyes grew brighter while I stood silent, till at last I looked at her eyes and said : " If you remember so well all you said then, perhaps you remember what you did J>M IX Till- GARDKX 1 1 l^eforc we parted.' I-'or a moment sho was silent, and then : " f -I cried," she said under her breath. " ^'t'-s, you cried." "Well?" "And I rode after your father." said I and she had no answer ready. "I do not understand," she said at last "Sometmics you seem to be heartless, and sometimes you think of things-little things —and they make very much difference. You are not always the same man." "There are few of us all black." said I '• I do not claim to be better than the rest I sail under no false colours. I have fought for Alva once. What sort of a school is that think you.^ " "Why did you leave him.?" she asked quickly. "He did not pay the m^n. ' " Will you get paid now.?" " Yes ; Breuthe has offered, for one source of money," " B-'t you did not know that when you chose Orange ?" ^ " No." said I. IM H a li Mi 114 MY LADY OF ORANGK "Yuu do not (lallcr yoursell," she said, .111(1 a smile liunnr round her lips and passed away. " Why do you try to make me think the worst of you?" She put out her hands with a little imp1orin_L; <,^esture. " Why will you show mc all the black, and nothing else ? " I looked tlown into her lace, and 1 todk her hands in mine. " 1 will tell you why," 1 said (luietly. " It is because I put you too hioh to try to cheat you. If you think me a better man than I am I shall feel I have wronged you. 1 would have you know the worst, beer'- then 1 can dare to ask you— if I cheated you I should not dare — to ask you if there is any hope, if there is any chance, you could ever love me." The words came all in a breath. "Are you showing me the worst side .^ " she said softly. "Is that all yc)ur answer.^ ' I cried, and started back. " Well, but you said you would show me the worst side, and I want to know," she answered. " It is true," I said. .r.l IN TFfK GARDEN ,,5 " Hut it mi.srhi be the best then, " she said, looking up at me. " Gabriellc, do not play with me ' " I cri-..J. "Ah' hut which side of me would you h'ke to see?" " I know they are all alike." said I. "Are you sure?" she asked, giving her hair a touch. "All I have seen." " Yes, but you are so fond of black sides. " "Oh, Gahriellc, will you answer.^" "You have forgotten." "What?" "You didn't ask anything; you only said thmgs." " Then I ask now " "Wait a minute. \'ou forget a lot of things. You forget how I was in that— that camp." She grew pale and shuddered. "And then you came, and you— you— bought me." she said softly. "And then.^" I cried. " That is all," she answered ; and she stood with her head droopino a littl^^ " Gabrielle ! Gabrielle ! '' I cried ; and my arms were round her, and she gave herself I' ' m^ It m6 my lady of oraxgp: up to me as I caught her to my breast ; her smiling fece, with wet blue eyes, was lifted to mine, and I kissed her. ]n the grey stone walls of the garden a wide seat is hewn out. and there we sat together in silence for a long time, hand in hand. "What are you thinking about .^' asked Gabrielle at last. "I am thinking of you; and wonder- ing " said I. " Wondering at me ? " she cried. " When I know what you think of me- " Do you know.^" she asked, with a roguish smile. "Oh yes, I know what you will say. In the market-place I called you cruel ; but then you were trying to prove you Wc.e right. And now you have been so eager to show me the black side — do you know which side I have seen ? " She paused and k .)ked into my face, and I kissed her again. " I thought it was only because you cared nothing for the Spaniards. I know now, I know now," she said. "You came into Breuthe because — because I laughed ; cUid J; i IN THE GARDEN 1,7 you went out again because I cried. Do you wonder now?" There was no need for more words, and we sat there together on the old stone seat in the bare, brown garden, while the thin onadows of the leafless trees passed round nnd grew longer as the sun waned towards the west. At last, when the sun was down behind the house, Gabrielle rose with a start. "It must be very late!" she cried "I must go. Good-bye! No, I must go; not you. ' I followed her in with my eyes, and sat down on the seat again. Then down the path from the house came Vermeil. '■ iVetty girl, ca--un." he said, with lialf a smile. I looked at Inm idly, without thinking what he said. ^ " Vou seem rather dull. Too lonely, eh ? " he asked, with a sneer on his lips. I \\alked awav. ,f '-"" - *"» f CHAPTER XI ALVA S REVENGE They were happy days thereafter in Breuthe town, when we walked together on the walls, in the burgomaster's garden, sometimes as far as I dared go into the country. And yet 'twas alloyed for me — oh yes, young mistress, 1 see your pretty face frown ; and indeed, lad, 1 have blood in my veins like you — I say 'twas alloyed for me with the thought of Alkmaar. I hate to fail ; and worst of all I hate to fail by my own fault. But for my own folly it would have been a man with less to regret who won Gabrielle's love. She would not suffer me to speak of it, laughed at it for pride, and that was some comfort ; but the knowledge that Alva's three thousand might have been crushed still lay in my mind and rankled. I have heard Caspar — he was a man of learning before he took to the sword and the saddle — I have heard Caspar talk of an old Greek who said that the worst of woes il8 T' ALVA'S RKVEiNGE 119 was to see thing's wrong and have no power to right them. He was a wise man ; but I think it cuts deeper to know you might have righted them when you have thrown the chance away. Well, the days went by and we had little news from Alkmaar. It held out still, there was comfort in that, but Alva loved the wait- ing game, and that could only have one end. The lines round Breuthe we had broken, but who would dare to lead such a force as we could bring against the sixteen thousand Spaniards who lay before Alkmaar.^ Tht^ Prince went back to Delft to meet Diedrich Sonoy, Governor of North Holland, and left the secretary Cornput in St. Trond's place at Breuthe. It was towards the middle of September — oh, I have cause to remember the time ! — there came to the gates of Breuthe a swarthy, lean fellow, wearing a dress not unlike that of Alva's men. He dismounted and walked coolly, leading his horse, to the burghers who were on guard. " Is a man called Newstead in the town ? " he asked in bad Flemish. ■Si' 120 MV LADY OF ORANGE !i • What have you to do with him?" said they, " And what is that to you ? " quoth he. "Where did you learn your manners?" cried one. " Faith, not in Hreuthe," cried he. " Perhaps it was in .Spain ? " " Perhaps it was," cries my gentleman. "What?" howled the burghers at once, laying hold of him. " Nay, then, do my errand yourselves," he said coolly, twisting out of thvlr grasp and flinging a bag at their feet. The fools looked to the bag instead of him. and he sprang to his horse and was orone. o Those wise burghers looked at one another, and : " This must to the Governor," they said ; so they brought the bag to that great man Jan van Cornput. As Caspar and I sat in the burgomaster's house that evening talking of Alkmaar— we always were talking of Alkmaar in those days — a message came for Caspar bidding him go to the Covernor at once. "Plague on the man," grunted Caspar; " why must .St. Trond give up his place ? ALVA'S REVENGE 121 St. Trend was a fool, but he let a man be, while this fool — umph ! " and the sentence died away in a throaty German oath. Later still two men came to summon me, and as I went out I met X'ermeil, for we were al! living with the burgomaster. " Ah ! guard of honour, captain .^ " said he with a smile. Now. I knew nothing of the bag that had come to the gate, and I was somewhat startled to find Jan van Cornput with the burgomaster and Caspar and two of the town's aldermen in solemn conclave. Caspar would not look at me, but Cornput gave me a sneering smile, and then close on my heels St. Trond entered. " Why am I summoned ? " he asked. ^ " To try oui worthy friend here," quoth Cornput. "To try me ? " I cried, and Cornput smiled agam. St. Trond drew himself up in a stately fashion. " I have sat in judgment on Master New- stead more than once," said he. "and each tmie my judgment was wrong." 11 ill IIT If 1 1 122 MY LADY OF ORANGF. " There will be little chance of mii:take now," quoih Cornput. '• Have you judged me already? " I asked quietly. " I have found him a true m.an and a good soldier," said St. Trond, "and I warn you. The evidence should be weighty on which you condemn him. I will b- no judge of his." " Ah ! well, we will judge of the evidence, then, even without the aid of the Seieneur de St. Trond. You may go," quoth Corn- put, and waved his iiand. St. Trond turned to go, but at the door he paused : "And I bid you reme; 'ber. Jan van Cornput, there is a higher judge than you," he said solemnly. " Even more than one," I murmured ; and Cornput frowned, and his little eyes twinkled maliciously. " Perhaps I shall serve your turn," he said. "Here is our evidence — not very light after all." He began to read from a paper in his hand, a strange composition in Spanish. lie iiei^an {•' vlwI Imm a uapcr in li I m \ ALVA'S REVENGE 123 " ' John Newstead — you and your schemes are too clever for us. If your worthy friends found you out before, and it was necessary to murder seven hundred Spaniards to save your own sweet life, the way to earn more money was indeed the way you took. You may even have meant your escort to be beaten. All things are possible. But spite of you and your Information our men lie dead at Veermut, h(; of Orange is still alive, and our thousand crowns will stay in our pockets. Vou will fnid in the bag a present for your lieutenant. X'itei.li o Ceton.\."' So Cornput read with a sneering smile, " And in the bag is— a halter, gentlemen," he added. " This was taken from a Spani:-.h messenger at the gate. He was glad to be rid of it, he cared little who read it, for as you see Vitelli does not care to protect a traitor when his treason has failed — and we will not, either, gentlemen." " It is forged," I cried, " I think not," said Cornput, and passed it to Caspar. Caspar shook his head. " Is that all your defence," quoth Cornput. f I' ^^■A MV LADY OF ORANGE "or will you icll Lib that the (jiily way to save the Prince was to lay an ambush for him, ,is you said when our good friends fnind you out before.^" "I L,Mvc no inforniaticju ! The letter is a lie," I said. "Ah' l>lank denials now. So you have come to the end of your wits at last! Why did •nil iriend \'itelli amus(- himself thus, then .^ " "Oh, you are very wise." I cried. " 'Tis clear enoucrh Alva found 1 had done Orange a service oreater {)erhaps than even Colonel van Cornput has done : he found a fine way to discredit me, and he took It. He may hardly have hoped you would believe it as easily as this. Is not the letter like Alva.^ " ^ "And is n..t the plan like you.^" quoth Cornput. •' Vou are very clever, my friend, too clever for me. Would you have us be- lieve Alva cares enough for you to ruin you.^ " " Who raised the siege '' " said I. "And how did you raise it? In truth you are a most unlucky traitor: once you had to spoil your own plan because it was found out too soon, and once your lieutenant spoilt it for you." J%- ALVA'S RKVENGF ^5 "Sir," sail. .i,v burgomaster (iiiickh-, "you will find no one but yourself to be!ie\e h^ ever meant to betray Breuthe." Cornput saw he had i^one too far. "Let it i^ass, then," said he. " P.ut this is a (j^raver chari^e still. Some (jne ;^.ivc information to Alva of when and wh(;n' the I'rince would pass \'eermut. Here we have ii under \'itelli's own hand that that man was John Xewstead. Who will believe such a tale as that the letter is a lie for revenf^e's sake ^ " "Did any (jne t^ive information.^ Was it not chance the Spaniards were there.^" 1 cried. "Chance.^" said Cornput. "Chance.^ What say you, lieutenant, who wore there ? Was it chance ? " Caspar shook his head ; I saitl nothin;^. It was a poor defence I made; not because the charge stunned me or I was aghast at X'itelli's cunning villainy. I had known X'itelli too long for that. Of some one quite unlike Vitelli I was thinking. When I told her in the garden I had shown her the black side I had not hinted that ever I had been a traitor. Nor have L Cordieic' I^lctck things enough there are in my life ; 126 iMY LADY Oh ORANGK St': « 11 Jl:i the man wlio calls inc traitor lies! I am a soldier; throuj^h good and evil I have been true to my cause. When I left Alva I did ii openly, and when his fortunes were at their highest. All this 1 knew ; hut what would she think? At the best, at the best, it would be very hard lor her to believe I was not a traitor as these fools thought, and if she doubted me now, why, that was the end ol all. These were the thoughts that ran in my head as I stood there befiue Cornput half dazed ; .md the fools thought the cause was a guilty conscience, when I stood silent fidget- ting to and fro, and not meeting their eyes. " Here, gentlemen, is our evidence. You see his demeanour." quoth Cornput. "What say you, guilty or no ? " "Guilty, guilty," quoth the two aldermen together. I hardly heard them. " I musts.iy — guilty," said the burgomaster slowly. Cornput lo.jked at Caspar. There was a pause, and then : "Guilty," growled Caspar, "guilty— on the evidence ! " 1 hen I looked up ; if even Caspar thought l\ £ ALVA'S RKVKNGH • / mc ^'uilty wii.u liopc uas th«Tc lor uu- ^ \o I'T my life. Cord^.ju' Did my life matter.' !Uit for Gal)rielle's l" I. 11' I . ' I iff ^ p ;i :ll :,!■ CHAPTER XII A CHANCE FOR Llhl: Mv gaoler had just brought me my break- last, and the worthy little Dutchman was all agog with news. As he laid down his dishes he eyed me eagerly. "Sir, a great victory at Alkmaar!" he burst out at last. "A victory?" 1 asked. "Who has won it?" " Alkmaar, sir ! The Spaniards tried to storm the town two days ago, and were driven back with the loss of a lull thousand men ! A noble victory ! " " I never thought he would take it by storm," I said thoughtfully. " The siege goes on still, though ? ' " Yes. sir, the siege goes on still." he .uiswered, rather choplallen. "Harlem beat back storming-parties," .said I, half to myself: "and who holds Harlem to-day ' " A CHANCE FOR LIFF 131 "You have little faith in us Dutchmen." said he peevishly. "We do not despair here in Breuthe, nor is there much fear in Alkmaar to-day, sir, I guess." "Fear? It may be not. Despair, my friend, is a soldier who often wins." He left me, ar.' I sat down to the meal. A day had gone by since I came to the town prison, condemned in the wisdom of Jan van C.»rnput, and no sign at all had come from Gabrielle. Here it all ended ; all my fine deeds of the past, all my brave liopes. the glory of saving the town, the greater glory of the day when we saw the sun go down behind the house together. A bare, dark room in a prison had come as an end to them all ! She believed it. Well, even Caspar doubted, and Caspar knew Alva's ways better than she. It looked black enough ; and she Jiad thought me eager for money before. Of course she believed it. She could do no other. And yet I had hoped— I had hoped A scuffling of feet came along the passage without, and an angry voice : " No, I iiave no order from your squabbv 132 MY LADY OF ORANGE ml) )\ 11 m ^ "' ■> Governor. Open the door, you little fool, lest I kill you for your keys. Yes, yes, I give you my word I will not let him out. You can lock the door (M1 us both, if you choose. Only hurry, lest I make myself turnkey by conquest." The door opened and Zouch came in. "Our illustrious Governor has not lodged you too well, captain. Pah! He does not feed you too well either. That fish should have a decent burial." I laughed stupidly. " It was not meant for a guest," I said. 'God help its guests — or its host!" cried Zouch. "You seem merrv," I said. "Well, and why not. ca[)tou do! Tli.it ass Cornput says you are guilty of trying to kill the Prince. What do we care for the Prince? Little we have ever got from him. Guilty or innocent, we A CHANCK FOR LIFE 133 circ not H larthinnr. U you have been trying to get more cash out of Alva, well and good. U you have not, well and good too. I don't say I shouldn't think- better. Let Cornput and his Prince look after themselves, and let your treason look after itself too. We care nothing about that, but we rare much about you. Vou never risk the men too much, and you always look after their pay. ^^>u have done well by us, and, by the hend. u e will do well by you ' Captain, how long are you going to stay here .^ " His voice rose to I shout. "Till I hear the judgment of the Prince," I said sl()wlv. 'Cornput suears the Prince will conhrm his sentence, and he will hang you the day he hears." "Then let him," I muttered. " If you think the Prince will set you Iree, and you are waiting for that, you may be wise, captain, for aught I know. Hut It is a risky game ; and if you are wronj: then " *=■' " Then I shall be hanged. I know it." " See here, captain : we are more than two M ''M ■:•■ Si 134 MY LADY OF ORANGE hundred still, and if you are hanged it is your own fault." " And if I am not, Zouch, what then ?" But he went on his own wav. " We will rescue you when and how you choose. By the fiend. I speak for all ! And you may hang Cornput instead, if you will " " And — then ? " I repeated. "Why, then we leave it to you to choose. I suppose Alva will not want us back again ; but there is fighting enough in the world. They say France has need of good horse- men." Was it \ jry tempting ? It was a chance for life, and if Cornput's words weighed with the Prince perhaps it was the only chance- But then, cordien ! a man has his honour ! To take my men away from the Prince in his utmost need when I liad pledged m\- honour to him — was that a deed one would love to do? Would you in my place.-* It is easy to pay too high for life, and the price was too high now. " I will stand or fall by the Prince's judg- ment," said I. " I thank you for the offer, A CHANCE FOR LIFE 35 but its savour is not to my liking. If I hang, or if not, you took service under the Prince, and Caspar is here still to lead you." He looked at me in cmiazement. " Then you will hang?" he stammered. " If they care to hang me," said I. He rose and kicked at the door angrily. •' Let me out. you fool," he cried to the gaoler. " By the fiend, I think you keep a madhouse ! " So he went away in a rage, and left me alone in the gloomy little room. I paced to and fro between its narrow walls, and one mood after another came to me and passed away. But I think the first feeling was joy. Let her think of me as she chose, let her believe me as base as she would, yet I had not put honour second. Pho ! what eood was that to do me ? liven if things turned out all for the best, if after all life was left me. a poor life it would be. I would not desert Orange ? Nay, there would be no need for desertion. Though they flung me my life I should be distrusted and dismissed, all the past would be a blank, and the future the mist of despair. Cordieu ' How things tin f I H I ■ ■ < ; ^hf^ MY LADY OF ORANGE |)lay with men I I stamped there, madly wnnh with AIv.i. with Vitelh'. with Orange, with Coriiput. with Zoiich, witli myselt— ay, and with Iier at List ! Ciod hA\) me. with her ! And while I stormed there in a mad, lonely rage there came floating up to me. borne on a sweet, low voice, an .>ld French sonij : " A lad came up acrnss the down ; Heigho, tlie folly '. A lass came out heyoiid the town. Heiglio, the folly : " It was (^labriclle I (iod in heaven, ii v.as Oabrielle ! " His brow was dark, his step was slow : Heigho, the folly! She begged him, weeping, tell his woe. Heigho, the folly ! ' .Mack : ' (]uo' he, ' mine honour's lost : ' (Heigho, his folly :) 'A murky blot my shield has cio.-sed.' (Heiglio, his folly!) ' All all believe me traitor kna\e ; ' (Meigho, his folly!) 'Take back, my love, the love you ga\c.' (Meigho, his foliy !) ' A CMAXCK FOR LIFK 1.^,7 She stopi tor a mi)meiU, and then, in a voice very low, but thrillint^ tliroui^li wall and gate of that Dutch prison-house, she san* 'k" '' TiiL tear strayed, darkling', in her eye ; (Heii^'ho, luT (oily !) ' Believe who will, yet will not 1.' (Heigho, her lolly ) ' My love 1 gave for good, (or ill ; ' (Heigho, her folly !) ' l"or good, for ill, yours am I still,' (Hei-ho, her folly!)" The words died away, and I fell into a chair and sat looking at the floor. So I was wrong, wrong, wrong! Oh, I ought to have known her love better! In that dingy room I began to hum the words over again, with a smile on my face. Yes, indeed I might have known. You cannot forgive me, young mistress? Well. I do not blame y\lT-n you had murdered him ' " "Ach, the brave Zouch ' ' L^rninted Gas- M-ir. "My foot is larirc f.,r the captain's -shoes, my friend." "Then who is to lead us. in the fiend's name' Are you playing the Frenchman's ^^ame. That oily Vermeil:*" "Ach, no." ^minted Gaspar quickly. " Then what is to hapi)en ? " "^o/r' Do I rule the world.' But, my Iriend, the captain is not handed yet." "If they think him ^.^uilty, and they will ilimk him To the honourable Lieutentant Gaspar Wieder- man.^ Hoping for his favour!^ \'ery best iaxour'-* Favour llavour ? Is the fool turned poet .^ is this a time ?* Ach, God in heaven ! Mine host, mine host, I will wait ()\\ the Yellow Pig!" and he ran oft down the garden, leaving Gabrielle stall- ing .tmazcd. I ' fit CHAI'TI R X|\ nil. GUESTS or tjik vei.low i-k; At the corner f the street of the tanners, where it leaves ti.e market-place, stands the hostelry of the Yellow Pig. Mighty fine ii is nowadays, with its front built all of stone, and its room.s lofty and light ; but to me and Caspar— will you laugh if I sav to Tiabrielle too?— to us the Yellow Pig is timber and brick, with a low dark little room up a stee[) Hight of stairs for its chief guest-chamber. "Ah, sir, your valour has received my humble letter ? " " Never mind your humble letter, I want your Rhenish wine," quoth Caspar. " You shall have it. most noble you shall have it ere the words are a minute old. At great risk and mighty cost it has been brought through the Spaniards' army. IT only they had known how precious " ''Go^r' I kn(;w Vitelli has a paunch. Petch it ' " rnr: yhllow pk; »53 . " II IS here, sir, ai your bidding, and if )')u do not lind il the noblest wine you ever tasted, why call me '" '• Draw the cork, fool ! " cried Ciaspar. "Why, call me—call ine — call me— call me." quoth the innkeeper, struL,'^irlin_L,^ with the bottle, "call nic an ds red wine ; come on, come and woishi]) ai llu; shrine ot llu; \'cllo\v I'ii;," and w()rd-play and sudden death, it's Rhenish ' And fair's fair ; come, I'll have a goblet now! Sit down to it, man! Drink away and I'll sing you a song ! " And waving the goblet round his head Caspar began to roar out a German catch : " Up with the goblet and down with the wine ; Drink, ho ! Who dines on red Rhenish he knows not to pine ; Who sups on red Rhenish three suns on him shine ; Drink, ho!" " Dri k to it. drink to it. and give me the other bottle. You don't take your share, man. More for me. Come, give us a song yourself! Why, you're as dull as that fool the captain! What, you won't ."^ Well, I'll THE YKLLOW PIG 157 jT^ive yoii an(jther. Pass mc the other bottle first ! Ah . . . now then : •' When the lass she did beg nic to stay, I gave her for answer a ' nay.' \Vhen the lass she made bold with her charms, I caughi her at once in uiy aims ; And I kissed her and said, ' Not until we are wed do I thirsty to bed, Or bear a dry mouth without wine ! ' " lih, Henri, my boy, d'ye take me, d'ye take me? 'Without wine' — ha, ha — or ' without whine,' see ? Two words — make a difference — see ? I'ass me the other bottle ! Ah ! . . . And now let's be serious. Drink, man, drink ! What do you think 1 brought you for? Not to sit and look at me like a damned heap o' lime ! And now let's be serious ! Captain — ach. captain is in prison — and we're here, and so is the wine. Urink. man. drink ! What I want to know is who is to be captain now ? See ? He is in prison, and — give me the bottle — and there's no captain. Must be a cap- tain ! Must be a captain ! Never went without a captain before. Who's to be I5S MV LADY OF ORAXGE i cajnain, eli ^ " and Caspar leered at him drunkenly over ihe empty bottles. The wine was gettiii^r into both tlieir heads, but it made Vermeil sulh^n at first, while it loosed Caspar's toncrue. "Well, I don't know." Uaspar went on. " Take some more wine. Who's to be captain.^ Not I. reufcl ! I'm well enough suited. Too much trouble for me. I like the fighting well enough. But the plotting! Ach! Drink, man, drink! And pass mc the bottle!" "How dye know we want a captain.^" cried X'ermeil. " Tcufel'. He's as g..od as hanged. What odds.'' He vvas too good for me. Now, I like a man wiio'll drink a bit, and curse a bit. and sing a good song, and be a jolly— good fellow," quoth Caspar, nodding his head sagely at each word. ^ "Well, the/., if you don'c like the job, Caspar, and you won t take it yourself, why, somebody else must ! " said \'ermeil. "Ach, yes," Caspar answered knowini^ly. '' Goti ! yes, somebody els.- lust. 0{ course, somebody else must." THE YELLOW PIG '59 \'crmcil looked al him unsteadily. He was certainly very drunk. And Vermeil, why, he was perfectly sober. He knew it. "And wliy not your humble servant, Henri Vermeil? E^h, Caspar.^" Caspar shook his head jerkily. "No, no, not you, Henri, my lad, not you. Why, curse it, I come before you I Xot you ! " "And why not 1 ?" cried Vermeil angrily. "Why not L Caspar .•* You said you didn't want the place. Well, am I not good enough lor it.^ Sangdieu' a better man than Jack Newstead, at least." "You may be — better man — John New- stead. No better man — Caspar Wiederman. There, there — more wine." \'ermeil tossed off another goblet. "A better man than either, sangdicu''' he cried. The wine was making him quarrel- some. " See here, the captain's to be hanged ; well, let tiie better man have his place." "Jus' so; what I say; let better inan — have his place," quoth Gasjxir. nodding wiselv. fpf m "^-o MV I.ADV CF ORAXGE "And I say I ;mi the better man '"cried \ crmeil. nl]in(r tlie .L,^ob]er again. " And I say you're not.' i^r.inted Gaspar. stolidly reaching out fo the ..ottle. " See h( re. then : who put it iiao his liead to save Breuthe L selling it ^ \'ou or P l\K you or 1? Vou or I .^ " Vermeil Suid. his voice nsuig to a scream at the last, (•aspar lau.^ hed stupidly. "He didn't- didn't do it— your wav. anyhow." "No, be ause he \\ is a fool. Where shall we be when Alva has come bad. again ^•Ii-^ Tell me that! Tell me that, you better man ! " he yelled. " Hell, jiraps, ' quoth Caspar. "Who's t.) get you out of that scrape.' ^an you do it. Gaspar, \ ou better man .^ " " What, out of hell f " said Ciaspar dully. "Out ol Alva's hands, Tool!" " Same thing, same thing," grunted Gaspar. " But can you. eh, my wi-wi-wiseacre ?" and he looked at Vermeil with druni6S MY LADY OF ORANGE Give the said bearer .- token to show you have had them. And now he that hindered is taken out of the way. tell the bearer by word of mouth when we may expect to see you leading your company back to us." "No Names are Best." So he wrote, and looked at his handiwork with a placid smile. He folded it and sealed it with a plain seal. For a moment he felt about his clothes and then flung a fat purse on the table. Then he turned to Gabrielle. " See now," he said, " he will give you an an- swer, and then, then we have him on the hip." While I lay in the hot foul room in the prison tossing, sleepless, to and fro the trap was baited and laid. While I rose and peered through the tiny grated window to see the f^rst dawn in the east there came to the Yellow Pig two early guests, and the bigger knocked at the door. Mine host opened it at last, unkempt and half undressed. " A pretty time to rouse— oh, it is you. most noble ? The other gentleman, he is asleep still— your friend upstairs. Ah! and so was I five minutes ago ! " THE YELLOW PIG 169 "My — friend? Hold your chattering tongue," quoth Caspar softly, and shook him by the shoulders. " So, are you arvake now ? Go up to that — that gentleman — wake him : tell him there is a messenger asking for him who will tell neither his name nor his busi- ness. If you mention me I will spit you like a chicken ! Say what I tell you, and come back when you have said it." " But, sir, your valour " " Curse my valour ! Up with you ! " The good man went up : there was a little noise. Then came Vermeil's voice, thick and hoarse, in slow, puzzled questioning. And then back mine host. "Come out the minute you have his answer," muttered Caspar, and took his com- panion to the foot of the stairs. He pulled the innkeeper to him, and whispered in his ear — " Come and listen by the door, and re- member what you hear." They went up. " Softly, fool, softly ! ' grunted Caspar under his breath. " I bring you this," said the messenger mv ! i 170 MY LADY OF ORANGE gruffly to \'ermell, drawing a purse from under a cloak, and giving him a letter. " And, sanoJitu ! who are you ? " asked \ ermeil. " Read it," quoth the messenger. Vermeil tore open the letter, and read it. It took him a long time, for his head was humming, and the letters danced up and down before his eyes. At last he made it out, and took up the purse with a laugh. He poured out the money on the table, and tried to count it once or twice. At last he gave It up in despair, and turned to the messenger. " It looks a lot," he said stupidly. "You have done a lot," the messenger answered. " So I have, so I have. We have New- stead out of the way at last. Tell your master— tell your master— that I will bring all the men into the trenches at Alkmaar before two weeks are out. If that fool Newsiead had not come up, tell him I would have let tho.se cursed burgher pikemen fall into his hands on the day — the day— curse this head !— the day his fools let the Prince escape." im It. :IS It ^e ir 11 I ! U[' 1 ; '■■^l IP:' ) I '4f h •• \'cmieil iiia.le ,i -Icp fcnu.ml. aii.l tore hack the clo.ik THE YELLOW PIG 171 "The token for the moi ney ? " said the messeiw er. "Ah, yes I Curse it; 1 can'i count it. • Received the money — Vermeil' There : I daresay there is not too much for the job. There I Come now, what does X'iteUi think of Newstead ? I told him the man was a fool. But Vitelli was too anxious about him to believe that. What does he think now ^ " "He thinks John Newstead is a good soldier," said the messenger. "Oh, does he?" cried Vermeil, with an angry laugh. " And what do you think yourself, my friend ? " " I think so, too," said the messenger slowly. Just then the sunlight broke in at the window, and the messenger stepped aside. " Oh, you do, too. Well, I tell you you are both wrong. He is the veriest fool that ever led a free company, and would be the biggest knave too if he had the brains." I suppose she flushed, or her lips moved. At least, Vermeil made a step forward, and tore back the cloak. " Sanirdieu ' So it was you, his leman, was it ? " and he drew his sword. I'm If I 1 1 i ■ ; 4 ( ) I ^72 MY LADY OF ORANGE "It was 11 "she cried. " I! 1 1" springing back facing hnii still. He rushed at her the door burst open, and Caspar put he; behmd h,m with one sweep of his arm. and parried Vermeil's thrust. "Not captain yet," he grunted, and Ver- meil fell back against the wall. Another moment and Vermeil rushed at him again mad with rage, and Caspar coolly put his hrusts by on this side and that, till he drew back again foiled. Again and again he clashed at the doorway, and again and again Caspar pushed him back. " Ach ! who is the better man > " grunted '-aspar, and now he attacked in his turn and drove Vermeil backwards round and round the room. "Who is the better man .^ " he asked again, and Vermeil Hashed hate at him from bloodshot eyes. "Shall I call a guard, your honour.^" cried the innkeeper from the doorway " Guard ^ Go^r' No," grunted Caspar, a .yrim smile on his face as he played with his foe. Round the room they'wint once more, and then came a quick flash of steel, THE YELLOW PIG 1/3 Vermeil's sword crashed against the wall, and Caspar, Hinging his own away, jumped at him and sent him reeling to the ground. And then, with Caspar's knee on his chest and Caspar's hands at his throat, he heard Caspar say ; " See him swinging, wriggling in the sun- light, with the jerky shadows on the ground ! Ach ! So. Now you may call a guard. ' \ ( CHAPTER XV Till-: JUSTICK OF DIEDRICir SONOV That very morning rode into the town Diedrich Sonoy, Governor of X(,rth Hol- land, and summoned certain people to at- tend on him at once— C(;lonel van Cornput. Caspar, the burgomaster, and two worth\- aldcrmen. " I have called you together, gentlemen, to take into consideration the case of John Newstead, accused hy Colonel van Cornput of treason," said Sonoy. •• Nay, sir, judged by me." cried Cornput. " And accused, I think, gentlemen } You, who assisted at the trial, may perhaps inform me ? " said Sonoy drily. " True enough," quoth Caspar. " But, sir, I am at a loss to understand why this trial is to be repeated," said Cornput. "Do you question the orders of the Prince, sir } " DIEDKICH SONOV 175 " No ; but 1 am a man set in autho- •• And a man under authority," quoth Sonoy. " Enough. I came to do, and not to quarrel with any man. You are those who judged John Newstead. I learn that you are all of one minti as to his guilt, but differed as to the sentence." " Ach, we were of one mind," grunted Caspar. " So I have heard. And now, gentlemen, I recognise that this letter " — he tapped it with his finger — " that this letter is evidence of the stronyi^est. So far, well — or ill. But this is all." •' And enough," cried Cornput. •' Ay, 'tis enough," quoth Caspar, with a chuckle. •'You take it lightly, gentlemen. I gather that you made no further inquiries. Colonel van Cornput ? " " What need of more ? " cried Cornput. " Why did you not try to obtain confirma- tion in other ways ? " " Because I mistrusted the man from the dav he rode into Delft, and in this fine \\\ I ^f 15 ,r m \ 1 '1 V 1 Si V. '70 MY LADY OF ORANGE •scheme for savin^r Brcuthc I saw only a traitor, fotmd out. atonin.Lr by a second treason. Then, when this came into my hands, was I not to use a weapon put into my hands by God ? " *' l^7d Vitelii." i^runted Gaspar. " Silence ! " said Sonoy sharply. " Take care, Colonel van Cornput, that you do not mistake your own desires for God's. I ask you again, why did you seek for no further evidence among the soldiers? Why did you not question Zouch. the quartermaster Henri Vermeil, the " "The traitor!" cried Gaspar. -'The traitor himself! He sent the Spaniards to Veermut. He taught Vitelii to write this letter." They looked at him, all amazed, and Sonoys jaw fell, and Cornpufs face was like the faces of the damned. "Your evidence, your evidence," said Sonoy. " My evidence .> Myself, Mistress Gabri- elle de St. Trond, and the Yellow Pig ! " " Do not jest with me, sir," cried Sonoy " Not a whit." quoth Gaspar. And then DIEDRICH SOXOY ^77 he told them the tale, there, in tlic bij justice-room at the town-hall, rolling it out with strange oaths and sharp twists of speech, llourishing his fist under the poor burgomaster's nose, and crashing his hand dovn on the table till the papers jumped and fkittered away and the windows rattled. " And so he's all ready for hanging ' Gottl he won't stretch the rope far," grunted Gaspar at last. " This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes ! " said the burgo- master slowly. " Umph ! " said Caspar. "Send for the two prisoners,' quoth Sonoy, " and send for your witnesses. This is the hall of justice, and justice I will do and justice I will have to the last hair's weight." When I came into the big, dimly-lighted room, and saw my judges of a few days before, with Sonoy added to them, I thought it was to hear Cornput's doom against me allowed, and I drew myself up and stiffened my shoulders. At least they should see I did not fear man. But as I looked at M 178 MY LADY OF ORANGE them I saw Caspar's great sides shaking. I glanced at his face, and cordieu ! I will swear he winked. There was a bustle at the back of the room, and I heard one of my knaves crying : "Come along, monsieur, la-bas to the scaffold — trip it gaily ! Oh, here we are ! " and Vermeil came in between two of our best men. I looked round, and my eye- brows went up in surprise. Vermeil gave me one side glance from his green eyes, and I guessed— oh, I guessed much then I Silence succeeded, till at last came in two others — a little fat man in an apron, pleased with him- self but rather frightened of the rest of us. and Cabrielle ! The dark blue eyes met mine, and I forgot there was a court there, forgot I was under sentence of death, forgot everything but those deep dark eyes. Then she looked away, and the blood surged up her white neck, and a blush passed over all her face and hid itself at last in the curls of that golden hai;. Her eyelids were red. I remember thinking she must have been weeping too much. I did not know how she had spent that last night. DIEDRICH SONOY 179 *' Accusations hav- been laid against you, John Newstead, and against you, Henri Vermeil. The first charge has been heard once. You, Lieutenant Wiederman, have a statement to make about the second ? " said Sonoy. " A statement ? A curse with reasons ! " And Caspar told again the story of that wine-party at the Yellow Pig, while I stood listening eagerly, with my mouth twitching into a smile. And Vermeil stood like the devil's ghost. The gruff voice went on, and he told of the plan that was laid in Gabrielle's room, and my head went round and round in a whirl. Caspar stopped. "The host of the Yellow Pig, ' said Sonoy sharply, while I stood like a man in a dream, and Vermeil bit his lip hard and clenched his hands. But there was a scuffle at the door, and in burst Zouch and half-a-dozen men. "See here. Master Covernor," he cried, ' you want evidence, and I bring you some. I went to the captain in prison, and offered to take him out, but the cursed fool would not come " Zouch paused for breath, : U i8o MY LADY OF ORAXGE and Gabrielle looked at me with a little smile that told me she knew it. and Caspar chuckled, and Sonoy's stern face relaxed. Zouch went on : " Laugh, do you ? Ho I The captain told me he would abide by the justice of Orange. Well, you seem to have found the right man now," and he scowled at Vermeil. " But, I say, let you justicers take care lest we pluck you all down by the ears ! " The long-armed quartermaster!" grunted Caspar. "The host of the Yellow Pig," repeated Sonoy, looking at Zouch, and waving him to a seat without speaking. For Sonoy, the look was not harsh. Mine host came forward. "Yesterday, most illustrious, I was fortu- nate enough to receive a large amount of best Rhenish wine " " Never mind tlie wine, little man ; it's drunk," grunted Caspar with a chuckle. Three feet away from him stood Vermeil, looking from him to me. from me to him. with sharp tlashmg eyes and his teeth show- ing, like a wea:>el in a trap. Jests passed by X'ermcil in that hour. DIEDRICH SONOY i8i '• But, your honours, what happened while the wine was being drunk 1 know no more than if I had drunk it myself." X'ermeil made a little sound in his throat. " Though, indeed, the noble lieutenant sang loudly. But after " Caspar grunted out a question to Sonoy. " Was the lieutenant sober when he went away ?" said Sonoy, sharply. "Ah! it was marvellous, most illustrious, after the wine he had drunk. He was sober as a judge ! " Caspar looked at Sonoy, and Sonoy nodded. Then : *• Mistress CabriePe de St. Trond," he said. She came forward, and I looked away. " I went to the Yellow Pig with a letter written in a handwriting like Chiapin Vitelli's, and a purse of money. And that man gave me a receipt for the money, thinking it came from the Spaniard. Then he said that but for Master Newstead coming up he would have let all the burghers with niy father fall into Alva's hands." " Oh, did he ' " cried one of the aldermen. '!• 1 82 MY LADY OF ORANGE "But, mistress," quoth Cornput, "but, mistress, if you went to him with this letter, liow was it he did not know you ? " " I went— in soldier's clothes," she said softly, and the blush came up into her face again. For a moment she looked at me and her lips trembled, and I saw her bosom rise and fall in a long, happy sigh. Cordieu ! I tell you I was glad that ever the plot came into Vermeil's head. "Oh, in soldier's clothes!" said Cornput, with a sneer. " Teicfel! yes, and who has a better right? I tell you, my judicious colonel, but for a quicker parry than you ever dreamed of she would be dead in soldier's clothes now ! " The thing was coming home to me at last, for I had been half-dazed by it all, and such thoughts as I had were for Gabrielle. But now I began to remember little things Vermeil had done, little things Vermeil had said, that all pointed the same damnine wav. Vermeil stood with his olive skin paled to a sickly colour, and his lips set firm, eyeing us sideways now and again. He knew it was death now. UIEDRICH SONOY i:^3 " Mine host, come up, come up," grunted Caspar. "You were listening: did you hear what Mistress St. Trond has said ? " Sonoy asked. " By St. Boniiace, yes, most noble, every word and a great deal more ! Oh, your hon- ours, such a villain I had never dreamed of ! ' " Ach, never mind your dreams ! " grunted Caspar. " Is that all, lieutenant ? " Sonoy asked, " All ? Gott ! no. Look, there's the rest," and Caspar pointed out Vermeil standing there green-faced, dull-eyed, with his teeth near meeting in his lip. The stains of last night's wine, the dust of the morning's scuffle, were still on his coat, and it was torn at the collar too by Caspar's grip. " Henri Vermeil, have you anything to say?" Sonoy said sharply. Vermeil stood silent, with the eyes of us all fixed on him. Caspar laughed. Then Sonoy turned to me : "John Newstead, you have been near suffering a great injustice. You have already borne much, and you have shown your- self a valiant gentleman and a true servant fpn"' I i If' .? , 184 MV LADY OF ORANGE oi the Prince in spite of all. We owe you much, sir, and your bearing under this chcir^cre has not lessened the debt. So far well." I turned half-confused, and saw Gabrielle's eyes dancing with joy. and a smile hovering round her lips. Sonoy did not look at her. He shifted his chair with a grating noise, and : "Henri \'ermeil," he cried, "you have been found guilty of treason against the Prmce of Orange, and your own captain, and the town of Breuthe. You shall be hanged by the neck, cut down while you are st.ll alive " Pah ! you will not wish to hear that tale told in full ; but Sonoy rolled It out with unction. Still Vermeil stood silent. Gabrielle's eyes were big with horror and darkened by tears. She looked at me. "Sir," I cried to Sonoy, "sir, if I have done any service to the Prince, then in return I ask this man's life!" Vermeil's eyes fixed eagerly on Sonoy. and there was a little stir in the court. Diedrich Sonoy shook his head. •' 1 he Lord do so unto me and more also if I spare you one pang," he said slowly. "fei DIEDRICH SONOY 135 And then, then, X'ermeil caught a dagger from one of his guards, and turned towards me. •' Did you think I would take my Hfe at your hands ? " he cried with a last flash of hate, and he drove the dagger into his throat. But his life had not been offered him. He fell back on the floor with a dull thud, and his guards bent over him and for a moment there was silence. Then one looked up : " A clean stroke I " said he, and there was silence again. •'Ach, I always knew he was a coward," rr;)wled Caspar. Rushing up the hall while we all stood amazed came a lank figure covered with mud and reeking with sweat. In his hand he carried a stick, and the stick he flung down on the table before Sonoy. "Dispatches from Alkmaar ! " he cried, and he fell on the floor and was asleep in an instant. I started towards the table ; all of us surged forward. Sonoy s voice rang out sharply : " Let all withdraw ! " he cried. " Master Newstead. I am glad to be able to command 1.- il9f>N) ^■-■■" -^ 1^ w 1 1 i86 MV LADY OF ORANGK your counsel ; and yours, lieutenant. You too will give us your aid, gentlemen," he said, turning to the burgomaster and Corn- put. " Will you summon the Seigneur de St. Trond.^" The little company, Zouch and his men, the innkeeper, Gabrielle, passed slowly out. "Take away that dirt!" said Sonoy sharply, pointing to Vermeil's body, and two of the men took it by the feet and draet^ed It out. '!■ CHAPTER XVI THE LAST ALLY Ur to the table I came, and caught Caspar's hand on the way, and we two men looked deep into each other's eyes. Diedrich Sonoy made room for me beside him, and shook my hand. Cornput played with the papers on the table, and would not look towards me, but the little burgomaster put his hand out timidly, and : " If you will, sir " he began. '• Cordie7i ! why not ? " I cried, and I gripped his hand till his eyes watered. " I fear we shall need the wisest counsel any man can give us," quoth Sonoy. " I wish the Prince were here." I looked at him questioning fashion. " He lies on a sick bed at Delft," quoth he. " He is in no danger?" I said anxiously. " Nay, I hope not : but no man can do the ,.T/^rU /^f a wHr^lp nation and feel no strain." TT-_-ll-- — -- — 187 I 1 i I ■I ifrr u m. fi it I i8S MV LA UN OF ORANGE Laur^^n. tic St. Trond came in qui( kly, and Sonoy rose to trreet him. "I a.sk f(^r your counsel on dispatches from Alkniaar," Sonoy becr.in : then, seiner St Irond's eye.s on me: Perliaps you are surprised, but- " " Nay. I am not surprised." said St. Trond Caspar had been fumbh'ng amon<.- the papers on the table, and then in the clothes of the messenger who lay asleep on the floor •• rr?r/e/! where are the dispatches." he burst out. Sonoy turned. •' Hidden on him, it is lik ■ly," he said. ^ "Then they are under his skin." grunted Caspar. '•Come, wake up, my friend." and he shook the sleeper hard, but the fellow only grunted. -Con/m,' let be; the man will break else! "cried I. " Why did he bring a stick, thmk you ^ " and I caught it up and looked at It. It was thick, but not over heavy. 1 rose, pushed back my chair, and tried to break it. Cordieu! 'twas stout as a beam. I drove the point of my dagger in and split It. At the top it was hollow, and there lay a roll of parchment. I handed It to Sonov- THE LAST ALLY 189 " To DiEDRiCH SoNOY, I .icutenant-CrOvemor of the Province of North Holland. " We have beaten back one storming party, and they have not tried us again. Our powder is all but gone. Our food is scanty- Till the tenth day of October we may hold out. We hope for relief " Pkter Ze. AEkTS, Burgomaster.' Sonoy read it slowly, and our faces all grew grave. " Till the tenth day of October!" he repeated. There was a long silence, only broken by the burgomaster's fingers tapping the table. " The fools, the fools, why must they take sides in the summer .^ " grunted Caspar at last. Sonoy waved his hand. "If the Spaniards lost a thousand in the storm there are fifteen thousand still ? " said I. "Fifteen thousand! ' answered Sono)'. •' And to-day is the twenty-sixth o'i Sep- tember." " There is nothing to be done," quoth Corn- put airily. "We must hope for the best." " There is no best." grunted Caspar. i f I 1 ^oo MY LADY OF ORANGE " VV^e are in God's hands," said the burgo- master. " Like toys," nrmnted Gaspar. "We might, of course, attack Don Fre- derico," said Cornput. " With wliat ? Popguns ? " quoth Gaspar. "WHiatsay you?" said Sonoy, turning to me. "There is h"ttle to say," I answered. " 1 lope for the best ? Yes, you may do that if you can ; but I see Httle to hope for. To attack Don Frederico is folly — crime. There is no chance, no barest chance of success ; and failure leaves Breuthe open to him." " And yet you might have crushed Alva, " said Cornput venomously. " I might. That I was wrong is not to the purpose. There was a chance then. One thousand against three it was then ; fifteen thousand to six hundred it would be now. We can do nothin*:." Sonoy looked at Gaspar. " And so say I," quoth he. A map lay on the table by Sonoy, and I bent over it. "We are helpless," said St. Trond sadly. The burgomaster looked up : THK LAST ALLY 191 '• \Vc were helpless once in L^reutlie." he cried. I looked from the m;ip to Sonoy, and I saw his eyes were on it too. " Alva w.is we.ik ; there was hope tor you. There is only despair for Alkmaar." quoth Gaspar. " There is — despair," said Sonoy slowly, without lookinp^ up, and he put his fincrer on the map, where a thick red line marked the end of the sea, and he moved his finger slowly along so that I saw it. To and fro his thin white fniger moved, up and down the line of the coast, like a sentry on guard. We were all silent. I watched Sonoy 's finger, and my eyes grew bigger, and my hands clenched as I watched it and knew what he meant. Gaspar lolled back in his chair, looking at us l.izily from half-shut eyes, with a smile on his face. St. Trond gazed across the room throu^di the window at the houses across the street ; but, as I think, he did not see them. The burgomaster fidgeted to and fro, and beat the table with his hands, and shuffled and turned his eyes now to us and now to Cornput, whose whole face was curled up into i ■ ■if \I;J 192 MV LADY OF ORAXGE a sneer at Sonoy and me. No one spoke yet and ^onoy s finger still moved on the map. ' 1 hen Sonoy looked up into my eyes "There is-despair!" he repeated. I„ truth there was, and little else in the justice- room at Breuthe then. No one answered him and he leant back in his chair with one hand lymg . long the arm of it. Then he began to speak slowly in a deep resonant voice : " We are all of one mind," said he. <• No force of ours can help Alkmaar in straits like these^ There is no hope in us, as vou say. But do not forget-in the last resort the man who cares not what he loses must win We have fouglu alone and un-allied for long 1 be Prn.ce has sought help everywhere and North Holland that still is free If ^\]k maar falls, that is the end.'" He paused for a moment, and then his voice rang out ■ Gentlemen, we have one last ally ; he asks our an as Ins price, but-the sea is stronger than Spam I ^ " The sea ! ' cried Cornput and the burgo- master together. \.. THK LAST ALLY 19> " I have here a letter from the Prince in which he bids me open the sluices of the Zyp and break the dykes if Alkmaar can only be saved thus. I think the time has come to do it." Ay, William of Orange was a man. We looked at each other. ''Got/! Vitelli will run like a rabbit!" cried Caspar. " Well, gentlemen ? " said Sonoy. " But the damage ! " cried the burgomaster. " The harvest is not in yet, and the country will be all under water." " Naturally," grunted Caspar. " But consider the losses to the peasantry, ' cried the burgomaster. " Think of the loss of Alkmaar." said 1, " Have you counted the cost ?" said Corn- put sharply. "It is well enough for those who have no stake in the country to talk glibly of ruining it," and he gave me an angry glance. " But for those of us who are Dutch- men born and bred it is too heavy a price to pay for Alkmaar." "Has the Prince no stake in the country i* " asked St. Trond quietly. Sonoy sat letting us talk our own w-y. N 194 MY LADY OF ORANGE " Then you would have Alkmaar go the way of Harlem ? " said I, turning on Cornput. " The sack of Harlem all but ruined Orange ; what, then, of a second Harlem now ? Cor- die2i ! Try to see things as they are, Colonel van Cornput. Which is the worse? The loss of one harvest, or Alva for ever ? " " Harvest or no harvest, I know free-lances lind food," quoth Cornput. '• I think of the peasants whom you know only to plunder." " This is no time for insults." I cried. " I say it will be better Tor the peasants them- selves that Alkmaar should be saved even thus." "Even if they all starve," snarled Corn- put. '' Cordicn ! Can you not see this goes further than Alkmaar .^ Let Alva once feel that he cannot win, and it is better than the Empire at your back ! " " That is true," said Sonoy. " What use in driving Alva back if we ruin the land to do it } " cried Cornput. " You like being beaten, it seems," grunted Caspar. " This has gone far enough, gentlemen," THE LAST A^LY 195 said Sonoy. " The question is, has the time come to carry out the orders of the Prince? " " We have heard the letter from Alkmaar," said I, " What need of more ? " " Ach, none," grunted Caspar. " It must be done," quoth St. Trond. "And you, Colonel van Cornput ? " said Sonoy. " You are all agreed, it seems. I think it folly, but I shall not oppose it." Caspar chuckled. " I suppose it is wise," squeaked the burgo- master. " Do not think that the ruin of the harvest is a little thing to me," said Sonoy. " No one will suppose that the Prince thinks it of small account ; but Alkmaar comes first. It must be done." " They will be glad to hear it in Alkmaar," grunted Caspar. '* Eh, my friend ?" and he stirred the sleeping messenger with his foot. The man moved, turned over, and sat up rubbing his eyes. "Ah! . . . You have the dispatches, your honour ? " he said sleepily. i r ( r: ' S i 196 MY LADY OF ORANGE " Yes. we have found them. What is your name r " Peter van der Mey, carpenter, of Alk- maar, your honour. Will you relieve us ? " "We shall break the dykes," said Sonoy. "Oh, then they'll run. Truly, your honour.^" " I say it. You have come here safely. Will you go back with letters from me ? " "Yes, indeed, your honour. Ah ! . . ." and he yawned again. "I have travelled a day and a half without sleep, please your honour," he said apologetically. "Good!" grunted Gaspar, rubbing his hands. "Any fights, friend.^" "Only once, sir. Three of Alva's Wal- loons. Ah! . . . I had to hide the bodies." ''Tenfcl' Three with iliat stick? The brave Peter ! " " Ah ! . . . if it please your honour . . . ah! ... I may . . . sleep a litde," and he fairly fell asleep while he spoke. ''Gottl he deserves a bed, the brave Peter," quoth Gaspar, and he picked the long, lean form up in his arms, and stalked off towards the door. THE LAST ALLY 197 " Will your lieutenant take charge of the Zyp sluices ? " quoth Sonoy. "A good man for the work, " said I. " Ay, ay, I'll sit on the sluices," grunted Caspar, looking back over his shoulder. "You had best have a strong guard," Cornput said with a sneer, "'or the peasants you think so much of will shut them for you." " Let them try." grunted Caspar, and went out. " The peasants will not iove being ruined." quoth Cornput. 'Oh, be silent, in Cod's name, sir!" cried Sonoy. "Do you think we love to ruin the m D " " Some of us, perhaps," said Cornput, with i^lance at me. " Be silent ! " thundered Sonoy. II; R- ? lUi m CHAPTER X\II ■:;! ; A CHANnEI' MAN St. Trond and I w.ilked back to the burgo- master's house together. "The Prince is a brave man." said St. Trond. " Cordiei' ' Yes. Many of his wise servants will not love him for this plan — like this fool Cornput. " " You do not love Colonel van Cornput. Indeed, you have reason. Litde things take up his mind. But I too feel for the peasants." "And do you think I do not? I am no Dutchman, like you : I look at things only as a soldier, you say. True enough ; but I am not so mad as to care nothing for the loss of good corn, good cattle, good lives. I would give my right hand to save Alkmaar in another way if it were possible." We walked on in silence for a little way, " Do vou remember I once told vou that ' J - - i9» A CHANGED MAX 199 your deeds were like those of two different men?" said St. Trond. "Now I begin to wonder if it was one man who fought for Alva, and saved the town by a plan like Alva's own ; and I wonder if that man is dead, and in his place is another, who takes the blame for a folly of mine, who will not save his own life at the cost of disobedience, and who tells me that he cares for (Dur Dutch peasantry not less than I. Would you have spoken like that three weeks ago? Or are you changed ? " " I told you before I am the same man," said I. " If I am changed — why, I did not know it." " That may be," quoth St. Trond, and we walked on without speaking again. His words hung in my mind. A changed man ? Well, I am not sure oi it even now. There is much of the old free-lance spirit hangs round me still, and I do not know that I wish it away. I have never been a good man as Laurenz de St. Trond was good ; my paths have not lain that way, I have done things — oh, more than one — from which St. Trond would have shrunk as mm w^ m< f I ■:"■' Hi 200 MY LADY OF ORANGE fouler tar than death. I have done things -—and these more than one — in this same foul way, by lies and by murder— that were good— I will maintain it— good, and when done St. Trond thought more of the result than I. It is the same man that can sec the good end, and that uses the foul means. I remember talking with Caspar once as I write now, and he sat tugging at his beard and chuckling now and again. " Same man ? Umph ! Have you always seen these good ends so clear ? " quoth he. " Don't be consistent and philosophical ! Go/^! Are men run into moulds.^" You cannot make war in white gloves, and above all, war with Alva. But have I always known what was the good end .^ as Caspar asked. Well, : have loved a woman ; that is much. I have loved Cabrielle ; that is more. We went into the house, and the door of the garden stood open. I saw a ilutter of a pale-blue dress, and I burst out. She was hurrying away from me. " Cabrielle ! " I cried. She did not turn, she did not even look A CHANGED MAN 20 1 towards me, but she tlitted across the garden and sat herself down on the old stone seat. "Well, sir," she said, with a little smile. " How can I thank you, Gabrielle? ' I said softly, and I knelt down and kissed her hand. "Why, you might have come sooner!" she said with the tiniest pout. ' And- -that is my hand ! " I sprang uj) and caught her to me and kissed her mouth and her eyes. " My dear love ! " I said. "Yes," she answered softly. There was not a sound in the bare garden. " May I sit down, please ? " she said, with laughing eyes. " Gabrielle, you must be very tired ! And you have been waiting for me so long. I am very sorry, dear. You want to sleep ! " " I have been waiting very long," she said, and the sm.ile went away and came back. " I am not tired now. Do you really want me to go ? " " Do you think so ? " I asked with a laugh. " You seem to like to look at me," she said, and I sat down beside her. " Strancre. is it not ? " iil It 1 \ 202 MY LADY OF ORANGE " Why, I suppose— you are trying to find out my black side ? " and her eyes danced. "I am not such a fool !" " You would not like Kj see it ? " " I can only see what is, Gabrielle," said J. " Do you know your father tells me I am a chan.^ed man. Are you sure you recognise me ? " "Changed?- she asked. "Yes, I seem to know you. Do you see yourself.^" and she turned her eyes to mine. "Yes, I see myself there," I said, and I kissed them. "That shuts them up, you see." " It's a hard world. But I have not seen myself so often there as to be sure that I see the same man." " The man you are to me is there." "Gabrielle, you have not let me thank you. and you saved my life ! " " Oh, that is not true, you know. But I like to hear you say it." "And I'll say it again. You saved my life, dear I " "No. It was your lieuicnanl. Oh. he is a grand man ! " A CHANGED MAX 203 "Yes, Caspar is d friend," said I. " Praise him as much as you will, love. But you dared to go to Vermeil ! " "Ah. that man!" she cried with a sob. • .\nd he sat here yesterday— and then in the court this morning -oh ' " She hid her face in her hands, and the sobs shook her. " IVIy love, my lo\e. forget him," 1 cried, .uid I put m\ arm mnnd her and .-,troked her hair. " There was n(jthing could save him. It was a quick death." But the sobbing went on, and I said no more, but drew her still closer to my side. Her tears came quickly, and she grew quieter at last. " Do you know what I think of most ? " said i : " A lad came up across the down ; Heigho, the folly ! A lass went out beyond the town ; Heigho, the folly : " I hummed the words over, and she lifted a tear-stained face and misty eyes to mine. " You heard ? " she murmured. " Who sang it .■ Was it meant for me ? ' ,\nd she iTdxe a haouv sie^h. 1 hi i| if, n I fl [', Uf 1 '■I ! I 204 MY LADY OF ORANGE " But I did not like tliat verse best," I said, <'ind I went on : " ' My love I gave for good, for ill ' ; (Ht'igho, her folly ') ' For good, for ill, yours am I still.' (Heigho, her folly !) " "Ves, I sang that," she murmured. "Were you— glad ? " " Did you not mean me to be ? " " So you Were ? " " So I was." " Even when you did not know " " Even when I did not know whether I was to be hanged or not." She winced a little, a.id then with a tearful smile : " And are you quite happy now ? " she said. Alkmaar came into my head, and the dykes that were to be broken, but : '' Yes, I am happy," said I. " And you ? " "Oh -I! But you— you were to be always thinking of Alkmaar." You do not deceive a woman who loves you • it can only be done by a knave. I^'i! A CHANCFU) MAN 20; " And would you not have me think of Alkmaar ? " " Oh yes. I know you think you could have saved it. I know you did more than any other man could have done." " But I know no man can save it now! " " It will fall ? " she cried. " No, it will not fall. Diedrlch Sonoy will break the dykes and flood the country ! " " But the farms, and the villages, and the country folk ? " " Must all be drowned together That is why I think of Alkmaar, because we are come to despair ? Oh, we shall beat Alva in the end, but how many will be left to tell the tale ? Oh for five thousand men at my back, and I would save the peasantry ! " Is mine a poor love story ? It may be. young mistress. Little, you say, has love to do with war and state-craft, and the things of the world. Perhaps you are right : you may be happier with nothing to think of but him : you like to believe he thinks of nothing but you. But if that is all your love means to him I hold if ■t jn 206 MY LADY Oh ORANGE him soineihing less than a man. I he love 1 put highest— ron/u-u ' the love we put highest- is the love that makes a man do. Alkmaar came between Gabridle and me ? I forgot her in thinking of the cause ? Nay, if you know that, you know more of me than either Gabrielle or I. " I know you would save them if it c.^uld be done." said she. '• But th.e poor country folk, like those at \'eermut, where I was before you found me. It must mean death 10 th -n, even if they are not drowned, i'hey will have no corn left ' " " Yes." I answered slowly, " yes. That is true. But the onl)- way to save Holland is to teach Alva that we care for nothing but victory over him. It is no thing to take lightly ; and do you wonder my thoughts run to Alkmaar and the peas- ants ? " " I would not have you forget them," said she sadly. " It seems to me terrible. But I trust you. The poor country folk ' " So we went back to the house sadly. The poor country folk ' CHAPTER XVIII THE LATEST NEWS On ♦■he next day, the 27th September, back to rilkmaar went the brave carpenter, Peter van der Mey, bearing dispatches from Sonoy, that bade th(-m take heart, for the end was coming; soon. The end was coming-, indeed ; and. now we had decided to do it, there was not one of iis. I think, but shrank in his heart from breaking the dykes. "When the)' light three beacons in Alk- maar I break the dykes — to put them out, I suppo'^e. Gott ! \ said I would do it, and I will; but captain! captain! I will see those three beacons first, and that sober," quoth Caspar. " 1 like it no more th?n you," said I. " But it will drive xMva back." " Ach, yes, there will be no Alva when I have once played with their sluices. Nor any one else, perhaps. Golf' I should like to see \'itelli swim ' ' 207 J ' ' ! 2oS \\\ LAUY OF OKANGH " How many men will you take ? " " Fifty will serve. I want to bring them all back. And when those fools in Alkmaar once see my beacon from the Zyp, I will be sworn their three will follow soon. Then, with broken dykes, we shall have to run without much time to look at the p:.th, and a crowd would be in the way." "Oh, one from you, three from them, is it so?" " Ach, yes ; our friend Diedrich is fond of fire — and water, too, it seems." A man coming into Breuthe in the end of that September would have thought a pesti- lence was in the t(nvn. Men went about their work with grave faces, and passed one another in the streets without a word. A cloud of silcnc(^. and gloom seemed to have settled upon us, and every night at dusk, when tne day's work was done, the shrill, harsh bells rang out, and men and women hurried to their meeting-houses to listen to sermons and prayer. Then two hours or more later they would come out into the tlarkness and hurry home : the women clung tight to tile arms of the men. looking up into 3!> THE LATHbT NEWS 209 their faces, and the stoHd flat - cheeked burghers pressed their thick Hps together and had no comforc to give. There was no comfort ; there could be no comfort till the deed was done and the sea had washed Alva away, ay, and much else besides -till the waves had come in over the fair golden fields and the trim homesteads with their little square beds of (lowers ; till the waves had gone back again, and the dykes were built up once more, and we from the towns came out to count the bodies lying on the dank salt soil of the men and women and children who had died for their little flat land. Caspar and Zouch rode out to save Alk- maar — a stalwart, stern little party, with no jests among them all. \'ery slowly the days went by, and the watchers on the walls saw no three lights coming out of the southern sky. The hour was not yet. In very evil case were we; in case still worse we were like to be soon. And Don Frederico, with a grip like his father's bull- dog jaws, still kept his lines tight drawMi round Alkmaar. The season was growing late, the weather was breaking fast, and the o 5' Il^ f ! f/t- 3IO MY LADY OF ORANGE Spanish camp, never loo cleanly, must have been nv,jAv. miry indeed. Don Frederico knew iKjihinu ,,r ,Hir plans at first, but va_ your own arn' might strike, crashing against armour ol proof, sir. ArniDur of real Spanish steel, such as the dagger itself, sir." "No such luck!" gruiued its owner. A hoarse laugh ran round the ring. •' Ho, ho I twas broken when Otto tumbled across the ti^p of the wall with his fat carcase." " And if I did," growled Otto. "No one else got to the top." " It to(jk all of us lo push you. Otto ' " The armourer looked up from his brazier. " Indeed. I had not heard your knight- hoods had stormed the town," quoth he. and busied himself with his ttjols airain. "No. our knighthoods have not," grunted Otto. " Our knighthoods t:ed ! " A rolling volley of (laths ran. round the circle. "And curse me if I try again I " growled several. " But surely, gentlemen, Alkmaar is not strong.^" quoth the armourer. "It should fall easily before you ? " "Some day," growled Otto. "What odds to us when?" asked another. THK LATKST NEWS 2:3 " \Vc can sit here for ever if Alkma.ir chooses, or till Alkmaar starves. No, comrades, delay is the word for us. Wait till it tumbles into our mouths." " 'V till we all stick fast in this mud." "\ waiting does not trouble me. But there is nothing worth waiting for in these cursed northern towns. Think of plundering Antwerp, comrades ! " A gruft" chorus of appro\al followed. •'They say they are killing off all the women," said one. ■' What, to eat ihem ? " growled Otto. "Xo, they have heard Franz is here." " Oh, I shall find some," quoth Franz. The armourer let a tool fall. " Ho ! burnt your fingers, my friend ?" " No, sir. trulv ; mv craft never burns mv fingers." " Lucky man ! " They talked aw.iy, and the armourer went on with hi:; work in the firelight. At last he rose from his little anvil, and : " If your knighthood will give me a little gold I can continue the inlaid work across the fissure." tiji 214 MY LADY OF ORANCF. "Goid!" growled Otto. "Very fine! Think yourself fortunate if you i^et a silver ducat for your work. Where should I get gold, fool ? " " Nay, indeed, sir, I know not. I thought the Duke of Alva could not but pay highly to such knights as yourselves. And the dagger would look much better if the " But they had all broken out laughing. "Ho. ho! pay from Alva! My innocent little fool. I wish you would tell us how to get it." "Oh. sir, 1 know nothing of the Duke's Highness. But 1 spoke hastily. I thought perhaps after Harlem and Mechlin you would not be without some gold. And it is a pity to spoil the 'igger." "So it is,' growled Otto. "Out of Harlem and Mechlin together I made five crowns." " So little ! " cried the armourer. "And the women, Otto," cried Franz. " Women bring in no money ! " "By Saint Nicholas! no; but they spend it, eh Franz ? " cried another. "If you're fool enough to give it them, Louis," said Franz. " Mine cost nothing." ':m Tin-; LATi'S'i- i\i-:ws -''5 " Tin? belter for you ; nothing is what wc o^et under Alva ! " growled Otto. " All ! but the success, i^entlemen, " said the armourer. "Never a defeat! He is a great general, the Duke of Alva! Even if you have neither pay nor plunder, yet the success, the success ! " "The success! Much you know of it' Stick to your trade. Did you < \ er hear of Breuthe^" ■'Well, well, Otto; 'twas the first time," said Franz. ''And F(;rdinando Alvare/. does not make mistakes often. Here is Alkmaar ready for us, at least, and wo ha\(; nothing to do but eat and sleep here in tlie camp. We can wait till the day of doom quite com- fortably." " Then your honours have not heard .'*" quoth the armourer, quietly looking round. He bent over his work again, and smiled at it. "Heard? No, we hear nothing. What IS It t i " "Oh— whv — I think — it is the news tliev tell in the countrvside, ' said the armourer, watching him. m -I" PI nP^ 216 .M\' l.ADV OF ORANGE " The latest news? Out uitli it. litrlc man.'" "Why, they say, your honours, that Diedrich Sonny lias detcrminecl to break the dykes." " To break tlie dykes ? " they all cried. " Indeed, so they tell me. Perhaps your honours saw a great fire some days ago ^" quoth the armourer, and paused. '• Ay. • 220 MV LADY Ol OKAXGE Dun Fredcrico lifted a pistol. Otto folded his arms and looked him in the face : " Try, if you dare ! " said he. But Franz knocked the pistol to the ground, and the crowd surged heavily forward. Don Fred- erico gave back, and. if he had known it that lost his game. \':telli came bustling up ; "You seem a little excited, mv friends" lie cried, and he tn.,k his stand bv Don I'rederico. •• And with reason ' " quoth Fran/. •• See here : we heard last night that the Zvp has been seized for Orange, and thev nvav open the sluices on us any minute. And we say you knew that three days ago, and kept us here on the chance of the town falling first. We say we have been betrayed'" The crowd yelled at the word, and for a moment lie could not go on. " Biit we have found It out, and if you will not lead us away bv the bottomless pit ! you shall not lead u's at all ; " "And \f you do not follow me— you shall lollow no one." snarled Don Frederico. "Try!" said Otto. •Try! "and neither THE LATEST NEWS 22 I X'itelli nor Don Frederico had an answer, for close on half the army stood before them. " Did you think we should stay here to be drowner^ while you ran away ? " cried Franz. "Answer, answer!" was shouted, and the cries grew louder. •'By God and llis saints! I will stay till " V^itelli laid a heavy hand on his arm. Another officer came up, and they whispered together. "You may stay — but without a man of us," growled Otto. Still they whispered — Don Frederico's face stern and unmoved. \'itelli eager and voluble, and the third chiming in after Vitelli. At last Don Frederico bit his lip and gave a sharp answer. \'itelli and his companion spoke both together. Then Don Frederico turned : " I will hold a council of officers to discuss this, said he. as if the words were squeezed out of him. " Hold twenty councils if you please, quoth Franz, " but we go to-day!" The crowd began to break up, and ^'itelli stepped forward quickly. i A- -^22 MY LADY OF ORAXGE " And now, my friend, who brought you this news ? " said he to Fran/. " The news ^ Yes, it is news to us. ^^ou have known ii long enough. I dare swear. Why. just a travelHng armourer, that came nito the camp last night. I suppose we siiould all have been dn.wned before we knew else ! " "Oh, just a travelling armourer?" Vitelli repeated. "Yes, there he is!" and Franz pointed to the edge of the crowd. Vitelli cried out to the man near to stop Him. But the armourer (led on the instant, twistmg and turning this way and that, till at last he found a horse, sprang on it, and was gone, with a sword slash across his thicrh. I did not wish to meet Chiapin Vitelli ! CHAPTER XIX THE HORSE AND I Yes, I was the armourer ! As I drove my heels into the flanks of this stolen horse and galloped away I chuckled lo myself. I had paid back Vitelli for his letter, at least ! Away to the north I turned the horse, The Zyp was too far off" for me to reach, and that way the land was bare and open and llat, but to the east were a few hillocks, with rising ground and the beginning of the wood of Herpt. I made for the wood. He was a good horse, and he stretched himself out over the level ground, and the damp air whistled by us. I gave one look back. A few were mounting to pursue me, but they went about it slowly, and stopped to tighten girths and fasten curb-chains, as if they cared little for the task. Once in the wood I knew I was safe. I have not slain deer in Windsor Park without learning to "3 Ht i ll ]; IE 1 ^ 1 i Mi 1 W' |,j, " i 224 MV LADY OF ORAxXGK dodge the keepers, and, con/iac ' I would sooner dodge ten lumbering Walloons than one of the royal foresters. On and on I rode, patting my horse's neck, and laughing to myself as we drew away. But X'itelli seemed anxious to catch me. Some lighter men were mounted and on my track, and they began to gain. The green wall ahead L.-me nearer and nearer, and I peered for- ward with my hand shading my eyes, looking for an opening. I did not doubt die horse! but I feared for my own slashed thigh. It was not too easy to keep the saddle. *" I found a green alley in the trees. Down It we dashed, turned sharp to the right, and crashed through the underwood. And then, oh thigh and all, J led them a dance, those weighty Walloons! For every yard I went through underwood they went three, and my brave horse and I. we cantered gaily over the turf, and heard them cursing in "the thickets. At last we shook them off. and galloped gady down a narrow, winding green path towards the cast. There was silence behind me, but it seemed safer to lea^■e some space betwixt me ar.d Vitelli ! Away we went. THE HORSE AND I 225 the wet boughs brushed against my face, and I laughed aloud till I shook in the saddle. The trees grew thinner ; we came out on level greensward. My horse, my stolen horse, put his foot in a rabbit-hole, and we both crashed down together. I remember (idling away from him, and then nothing more for a while. I woke from the swoon with his cold wet nose nuzzling into my face. I put out my hand to feel his knees at once. They were sound, but cordicu! I was not! My right boot was full of blood. I made a bandage of my shirt, and bound up the thigh. 'Twas an ill wound enough, but looked far worse than it was. And then I glanced round me. A drizzling rain was falling, the sky was grey and dull, and there, half a mile or more away, nearly level with my eyes, was the sea. Crash, crash, crash! I could hear the sound borne up on the west wind of the steady waves beating on the dykes, trying ceaselessly to wear them away, to break them down, to shatter the bonds of man. There was our labt ally, the ally we did not need I fL\ u ' 226 MY LADY OF ORANGE Do you think I was proud as I sat there in the rain? Cora^^eu f I have no shame in confessHig it. My fault it was so many men had come to Alkmaar ; perhaps my fault Alkmaar had been besieged at all. So be It; blame me as much as you will, and it will scarce be more than I blame myself, l^ut I had found at last a way to drive them back without the country's ruin. Reckon that, too ! "You may Mait a long time for vour beacons, Caspar." I said to myself, and I laughed till the horse looked up from his pasture. I went up to him, opened the holsters in the saddle, and found some food. I took off the saddle, and went back with it to the shelter of the trees. No one in Breuthe knew I had gone I laughed again to think of the tales thev vvould tell ! Cornput would take me for a deserter. A deserter! Ha, ha' That perhaps was what Vitelli thought. How Alva must love me! I had set his army by the ears now, and his campaign was over lor that year. Cor^^eu .' They were very easy to play upon to one who knew them • I THE HORSE AND I 227 those brave Germans. Indeed, I was quite contented, for the task had not been without risk. There was no one else I could trust to do it. Oh yes, I was quite contented. And when I saw Gabrielle aoain The horse and I, we spent a very happy day together in spite of the rain. There was plenty of grass and good enough food. And even the rain stopped at last. I slept a short sleep and a sound, spite of an aching thigh. And w^th the morning I was in the saddle again to go back to Alk- maar once more. It was the eighth day of October. Warily and quietly we came through the wood, back along the paths we had galloped so hastily yesterday, through the wood and out into the open. Yes, Don Frederico was Ci'oinof, and most of him was crone ! Quickly I drew back into the shadow and watched them go, and as I sat there I knew, yes, I knew what the end of the Netherlands war must be. In the last resort, when it is not strenfjth acjainst strength or arms arainst arms any longer, but when soul is pitted against soul, then at last the best men win. w I ■Hi H^ 228 MY LAUY OF ORANGE You who have heard the story of Alkmaar know who they were. 1 heard loud cries coming from the walls of Alkmaar. " Gone, gone, crone ! " then cheering, and then, why then, of course, a psalm. "Yes, you will not need your beacons, now," I muttered. I patted the horse on the neck. "Shall we carry the news, boy, you and I ? " He curvetted. Cordien ! who had a better right than the horse and I ? "' ^ii?i irK CHAPTER XX A SOLDIER S WAGES Away we went over the level plain, through the misty air, with the wet brown sand fly- ing up about my ears. Away over the turf, when there was turf, away over the bare sand, away over the heather — northward, northward still. Past the bare hamlets, sucked dry of their food by Alva ; past the yellow corn standing in shocks ; past peasants that sprang back out of our way and stood looking after us round-eyed. Through Herpt, with its white walls and its red roofs ; and there the sun broke out, while still we gal- loped on till Haring's houses Hashed back the light at us. Thundering down the street we came, w ith the pebbles Hying away behind us, and women ran to the windows in fright to look. "Oh, I am not Alva!" I cried to a crirl who fled out of my way ; and I sped on unfh I o 1 i/Trri r^,,l ,u^ r..- R^' ri.i .' V f'' 230 MY LADY OF ORANGE short minutes we stopped, and we shared a cottager's bread between us and some beer that was cursedly sour. Cordieit^. I think the horse loved the race as much as I. We were off again, through a wood, and out again into the open, on, and on. and on, with a red sky blazing at us in the west and the mist thickening in the hollows. The colour died away, the mist grew darker, and still we pressed on. The bandage slipped down my thigh, and prickly pains came up that leg ; but what cared I .? We were Hear- ing Breuthe! Yes, but should we reach it together.^ My brave horse was labouring hard, and his flanks were heaving, so that I knew his last bolt was all but shot. The mist grew blacker and thicker in front, like a wall across the path. I stood up in my saddle. " Come on, boy, come on ! " I cried, and he quickened a little. A sharper pain came in my leg. I seemed to hear shouts all round me. "Curse it, X'itelli, we win, we win!" and I shook my fist at the darkness behind. In front the mist was very thick ; thicker and thicker yet. My eyes would not pierce it. Could it be, could it be '> A SOLDIERS WAGES 231 Who goes th crc a sha' :hall cniic ; ranjT f)ut in front. "Just an armourer!" I cried wildly; and I launched, "Ciracious God! 'tis Master Newstead!" shouted a buri^her. " Halt, halt, sir, till we open the j^^ate ! " Hardly knowing what I did, I pulled up. The mist i)arted before me, and with a clatter of bolts the gate fell open, and in we came, through a ring of men with tliiring yellow lanterns, and on we went to the burgomaster's house. "What of Alkmaar? What of Don Frederico .'* " "Ask the devil, his father!" Trotting over the pebbles, weary and half mad both, up to the burgomaster's house we came, and I dropped to the ground and staggered in, crying — " Wine, wine I " I burst into a room with lights that dazzlti.' Tie tmd men I did not know. They sprang up. "God in heaven! " " Can it be " " In God's name ' w '^' ! , f 1 n 232 MY LAUY OF ORANGE But I had caught a bottle from the table and sta^Tgered out once more. My horse had fallen. I knelt down on the stones, broke the bottle neck, and poured the wine down his throat. He lifted his head and tried to rise. I patted his neck and pulled at his ears. " We win, boy ; we win, we win ! " I cried ; and I think he understood. A little crowd had gathered, and men came running out of the house. " Come in, sir ; come in ! " cried the burfro- master. I looked at him stupidly. "But we win," I muttered; "curse it, we win ! " "Or you win for us. Come and tell us," said a calm, steady voice. " Look after the horse," I cried. "Yes, yes; I will see to the horse, sir," squeaked the burgomaster ; and I limped in leaning on some man's arm, back to that room with lights. The man put me into a chair, and filled a glass with wine. I drank It ; and another, and another. Then I looked round. It was the Prince himself at my elbow. ^ I: i ii \ !t \ I Mr 1 1 f i V , ^'^ H 1 1'^- '. f " ' lie is back :' ,-,l)c uifd A SOLDIER'S WAGES 233 "Why, it was you, your Highnei,^!" I stammered. "You came in on my arm. Perhaps you went out on my errand ? " quoth he. My wits were coming baclc. I could see the men and know them now. There I sat limp in a chair, covered from head to foot with yellow mud, and round me, bending eagerly forward, were Cornput, and the burgomaster, and St, Trond, and Diedrich Sonoy, and the Prince. A light step came into the room. "He is back ! " she cried. " And perhaps he will tell you what he has done," said the Prince, with a smile. "Why, I am only an armourer," said I ; and I laughed. " Ah ! and whose are the weapons you mend?" quoth the Prince. •' They call him Don Frederico," said I. " Don Frederico is no jest to us, sir," said the Prince. " Will you tell us your news ? " " Don Frederico has run and the dykes are safe !" I cried. They looked at one another. Sonoy's stern face broke into a smile ; he and St. Trond shook hands. Cornput's mouth fell open, and the Prince murmured : i-:ii' i- ! r till ^' \ I 234 MY LADY OF ORANGE " Thank God ! " But my eyes went to Gabrielle, and hers came to me. The burgomaster ran across the room and nung up the window : " Alkmaar is safe and the dykes are safe'" he cried shrilly, and a cheer rose in the street and rolled away through the town. '' But why was Don Frederico willincr to go ? asked the Prince. " He was not willing to go," said I. " Then why did he take his men away > " " I hey took him," said I. "'VV-ll, sir, will you tell your story your own way ? " cried the Prince. "It is just what I did," said I. "Is that all you did.?" " Oh no ; I mended a dagger and I stole a horse." The Prince shrugged his shoulders with a laugh, and turned to Gabrielle : " Will you try a question ? " said he. "Why did you go?" she asked, quickly lookmg at me. " The poor country-folk ! " I repeated, and her whole face smiled at me. When I could look away I turned to the Prince : A SOLDIER'S WAGES 235 " On the night of the sixth of October, sir, there came to call on Don Frederico a travelling armourer. A worthy German was good enough to give him some work to do, and the armourer was not un^-rateful. So that he expounded to a ca.np-fire that Alva's pay was short measure, that his plunder was a fluctuating wage, and that his success had lately been small. The camp-fire seemed interested. Then to his surprise the armourer discovered that Don Frederico had omitted to inform his men that the dykes were to be broken, and in a truly Christian spirit the armourer repaired his omission. He contrived to hint that Don Frederico did not hold Germans and Spap'ards in equal esteem : so that these worthy Germans in some indignation con- ceived the idea that Don Frederico intended them for a sacrifice to Neptune ! They objected : they informed Don Frederico and Chiapin Vitelli of their objections, and they expressed a resolve to depart with or without Don Frederico. That is all. I am only an armourer, your Highness." They looked at me all In amazement ; and at last : if i 1; I n u 236 MY LADY OF ORANGE ;; If^that all, my friend ? " quoth the Prince. see the armourer. But the armourer thought that unnecessary. VitelH and I know one another quite well. That is all " ^ '' That is all." repeated the Prince slowly Vou seem to me to have left out the danger, my friend." flo^thf '' ^''' ^''" ^^^^ ^^-^^— to Hood the country, your Highness.?" " ^^^- To you," said the Prince "A foolhardy thing!" cried Cornput. " I woujd^not have done it for ten t^.ousand They all turned on him : "I believe you," quoth Sonoy dnly "Some of us have learned," said St. Irond, lookmg at me and repeating the word, ' " he asked, with a smile. A SOLDIER'S WAGES 237 " Well, for my own cause, then," I said. " Ay, for the cause — that is another thing," said he. "You told me at Delft you could do much and ask little. It was not you, but Holland and I were the gainers when you rode into Delft. And Alva, I think, lost much." " Perhaps Alva lost less than we gained," quoth St. Trond. It is little more I remember of that night, for soon, with the weariness and the wine, and the pain in my leg, I fell asleep in the chair. Late next morning I woke in bed with a stiff leg and beset by a raveninor huneer. But my clothes ! Cordieu ! Where were the clothes ? They were not good for much, but better than none at least. Oh yes, the wise servants, they had taken my own away and brought some others. Others ! They were made for a babe, ! think. Or the burgomaster. Well, there was no choice, and my hunger was clamorous. Down the stairs I went gingerly, for my leg did not wish to bend, and into a room I peeped where I knew there was hope of breakfast. B-ii the leg bent quickly enough, I, .:' n ;! 'i i - » II Ut fin VJi ■ 1 ■ " she said. "With you," I answered. So for the first time she sat opposite me A SOLDIER'S WAGES 239 as she has sat many a ^ 3ng year now. Ay, it is long enough if you count ; to me it seems a very little while ago, and long or short, however you reckon, our p.yes still love to meet as they did in that room at Breuthe. The days when I fought are gone by now, and Holland is free at last. The blow that was struck outside Alkmaar settled the fate of the land, and afterwards the soldiers that fought for Spain knew always that come what might they could never win. It was a desperate thing we meant to do ; they tell me it was a desperate thing I did. Well, I might have died. Would it not have been ■c death worth dying .^ If Don Frederico could have kept secret the knowledge he and Vitelli had, perhaps the sea might have come too slow for Alkmaar ; and even if not, if it was not I who saved Alkmaar, why, at least it was I who .saved the land. Is mine a poor love-story } You lasses who think love is a kiss and a pretty speech, even you will not gainsay me when I tell you that the love which led me in this thing that I did was a real love after all. The things in my life that I like to think of ; Tf^ h i I. w , i I I :.i Itl US i 240 MY LADY OF ORANGE most are the things I have done since a little scornful laugh rang in my ears by our bivouac at Veermut. I do not know that I am changed : I am very sure that I am no saint md I doubt not you will find many things in this story of mine to blame. So be it : I am content if you remember why these evil things — if evil they are- were done, and if you believe me when I tell you that I am not ashamed to look into two dark blue eyes. Perhaps there is one thing more to put at the end of this story. It was a little while afterwards that Caspar came rollicking back from the Zyp, and though he might have known better, he stalked hastily down the garden one afternoon. Gabrielle ran away. 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