"How long has she been there?" asked Alva quickly, in a whisper.
"All the time," replied de Vargas, also under his breath.
"But this is not for women's ears."
"Nay! your Highness does not know my daughter. It was the manLeatherface who killed her first lover. She would be happy to see himhang."
"And she shall, too. She hath deserved well of us. We owe our presenttriumph to her."
Then he turned once more to the burghers.
"I like your offer," he said coldly, "and, in a measure, I accept it....Nay!" he added with that cruel and strident laugh of his, seeing that athis words a certain look of relief overspread the five pale faces beforehim, "do not rejoice too soon. I would not give up the delight ofpunishing an entire city for the mere pleasure of seeing one man hang.True! I would like to hold him. Next to Orange himself, I would soonersee that mysterious Leatherface dangling on a gibbet than any otherheretic or rebel in this abominable country. But to give up my purposeover Ghent, that is another matter! Once and for all, seigniors," headded with fierce and irrevocable determination, "Ghent shall burn,since Orange has escaped again. But I have said that I accept youroffer, and I do. I take it as an expression of tardy loyalty, and willreward you in accordance with its value. We will burn your city,seigniors; but if when your flaming walls begin to crumble about yourears; when my soldiery have taken their fill of your money and yourtreasures, and human lives begin to pay the toll of your rebellion andtreachery, then, if you deliver to me the person of Leatherface alive, Iwill, in return, stay my soldiers' hands, and order that in everyhomestead one son and one daughter, aye, and the head of the house, too,be spared. Otherwise--and remember that this is my last word--not onestone shall remain upon stone within the city--not one inhabitant, man,woman, or child, shall be left to perpetuate rebellion inside thesewalls. I have spoken, and now go--go and tell Leatherface that I awaithim. He hath not aided Orange's escape in vain."
He rose, and with a peremptory gesture pointed to the door. The fiveburghers were silent. What could they say? To beg, to implore, toremonstrate would, indeed, have been in vain. As well implore thefierce torrent not to uproot the tree that impedes its course, or begthe wolf not to devour its prey. Painfully they struggled to theirfeet, roughly urged along by the soldiers. They were indeed cramped andstiff, as well mentally as physically; they had done theirheart-breaking errand--they had swallowed their wrath and humbled theirpride--they had cringed, and they had fawned and licked the dust beneaththe feet of the tyrant who was in sheer, lustful wantonness sending themand their kith and kin--guilty and innocent alike--to an abominabledeath.... And they had failed--miserably failed either to bribe, tocajole, or to shame that human fiend into some semblance of mercy. Nowa deathlike sorrow weighed upon their souls. They were like five veryold men sent tottering to their own graves.
Some could hardly see because of the veil of tears before their eyes.
But, even as one by one they filed out of the presence of the tyrant,they still prayed ... prayed to God to help them and theirfellow-citizens in this the darkest hour of their lives. Truly, ifthese valiant people of Flanders had lost their faith and trust in Godthen they would have gone absolutely and irretrievably under into theawful vortex of oppression which threatened to crush the very existenceof their nation, and would have hurled them into the bottomless abyss ofself-destruction.
CHAPTER XV
TWO PICTURES
I
These stand out clearly among the mass of documents, details,dissertations and chronicles of the time--so clearly indeed that only abrief mention of them will suffice here.
First: Lenora in the small room which adjoined the council chamberwithin Het Spanjaard's Kasteel in Ghent. She had stood for close upon anhour under the lintel of the open door, her hand clinging to the heavyvelvet portiere; not one sound which came from the council chamberfailed to strike her ear: every phase of that awesome interview betweenthe supplicants and their vengeful tyrant struck at her heart, until atlast unable to keep still, she uttered a moan of pain.
All this was his work! Not hers! Before God and her own conscience shefelt that she could not have acted differently; that if it had all to bedone again, she would again obey the still, insistent voice which hadprompted her to keep her oath and to serve her King and country in theonly way that lay in her power.
It was his work! not hers! His, whose whole life seemed to be givenover to murder, to rebellion and to secret plottings, and who had triedto throw dust in her eyes and to cajole her into becoming a traitor tooto all that she held dear.
It was his work, and the terrible reprisals which the Duke of Alva'sretributive justice would mete out to this rebellious city lay at thedoor of those who had conspired against the State, and not at hers whohad only been an humble tool in Almighty hands.
But in spite of her inner conviction that she had done right, in spiteof her father's praise and approval which he had lavished on her all theway from Dendermonde to Ghent, she could not rid herself of a terriblesense of utter desolation and utter misery, and of a feeling of pity forall these poor people which caused her unendurable--almost physicallyunendurable--agony.
When anon the Lieutenant-Governor dismissed the burghers and after a fewwords with her father and senor del Rio left the council chamber, Lenorahad a feeling as if the ground was opening before her, as if an awfulchasm yawned at her feet into which she must inevitably fall if shedared look into it. And yet she looked and looked, as if fascinated bythe hideousness of what she saw--pictures of cruelty and of evil farmore horrible than any which had ever been limned of hell. And in theoverwhelming horror which faced her now, she felt herself screamingaloud, with appealing defiance: "It is his work! not mine! Let theblood of his kinsfolk fall upon him--not me!" ere she tottered and fellback.
When full consciousness returned to her, her father was by her side. Helooked pale and sullen and instinctively she drew away from him, whereathe smiled, showing his large teeth which looked like the fangs of awolf.
"I ought never to have allowed you to come here, Lenora," he saidroughly. "As His Highness said, it was not at all fit for women'sears."
"His Highness," she retorted coldly, "also said that to be here was myright ... your triumph to-day being all due to me."
"Well!" he added lightly, "'tis you wanted to come, remember."
"Yes," she said, "I wanted to come."
"I would have sent you to Brussels with Inez and a good escort. It isnot too late. You can still go. Ghent will not be a fitting place forwomen during the next few days," he added, whilst a glow of evilsatisfaction suddenly lit up his sallow face. "Would you prefer to go?"
"No, father, I thank you," she replied. "I would wish to stay."
"Ah! that's a brave daughter, and a true Spaniard," he cried, "and Ipromise you that you shall be satisfied with what you see. Ramon, yourcousin, will be avenged more completely than even you could have daredto hope, and that assassin Leatherface will suffer: you shall see himdangling on a gibbet, never fear."
A slight shudder went right through her. Her face was as white as hergown; and as she made no reply, her father continued blandly:
"You little thought that your marriage would bring such a magnificentharvest of reprisals quite so soon! The city of Ghent and the manLeatherface! The destruction of the one and the death of the other areyour work, my daughter."
She closed her eyes; for she saw that awful chasm once more yawning ather feet, and once more she felt herself falling ... falling ... with noone to cling to but her father who kept asking her whether she wassatisfied with what she had done.... His voice came to her as through ashroud ... he talked and talked incessantly ... of Ghent ... of rebels... of murder and pillage and gibbets and torture-chambers ... of womenand children and fathers of families ... of sons and of daughters ...and of one--Leatherface ... of the High-Bai
liff of Ghent ... of Laurenceand of Mark ... her husband.
"I wonder where that fool is now," she could hear her father sayingthrough a muffler which seemed to envelop his mouth. "On the high roadto Brussels mayhap with a message from you to me ... did you say you hadsent him on from Dendermonde or straight away from Ghent? I am halfsorry I gave in to your whim and brought you here with me ... but 'tisyou wanted to come ... eh, my girl? ... you were so obstinate ... I wasweak enough to give in ... but I ought not to have let you listen tothose mealy-mouthed Flemings! ... ah! you are my true daughter ... youwanted to see these traitors punished, what? and Ramon's murder avenged!Well! you shall see it all, my dear, I promise you.... But I wish youcould tell me what has become of that fool of a husband of yours ... weshall have to know presently if you are still wife or widow...."
He said this quite gaily and laughed at his own jest, and Lenora, paleand wild-eyed, echoed his laugh. She laughed as she had done two nightsago at Dendermonde when a face made up of lighted windows grinned at andmocked her across the Grand' Place. She laughed until the whole roombegan to dance a wild galliarde around her, until her father's faceappeared like one huge, mocking grin.
Then she just glided from the couch down on to the floor. And there shelay, white and inert, whilst senor de Vargas, cursing the megrims ofwomen, went calmly in search of help.
II
The second picture has for background the refectory in the convent ofSt. Agneten at the same hour as when last night the newly chosen,mysterious leader had roused boundless enthusiasm in the hearts of allhis hearers. There is no lack of enthusiasm now either, but tempers aremore subdued--gloom hangs over the assembly, for Messire theProcurator-General has just given a graphic account of his mission tothe Lieutenant-Governor.
When he has finished speaking, the man with the mask who sits at thehead of the table at the top of the long, low room, asks quietly:
"Then he refused?"
All the five men who this morning had knelt humbly before the tyrant,exchange silent glances, after which Messire Deynoot says firmly:
"He refused."
"Nothing will save our city," insisted Leatherface solemnly, "except ifwe track the Prince of Orange and bring him bound and a prisoner to thefeet of Alva?"
"Nothing! save Orange's person will move Alva from his resolve."
Leatherface sits for a moment quite still, with his head buried in hishands: and the vast crowd now assembled in the room waits in breathlesssilence for his next word. There are far more than two thousand men herethis night; the number has indeed been more than doubled. The deadlydanger which threatens the city has already brought over three thousandnew recruits to the standard.
Suddenly with a resolute gesture Leatherface draws his mask away andrises to his feet in full view of all the crowd.
"Mark van Rycke!" comes as one cry from several hundred throats.
"Aye!" he says with a light laugh, "your ne'er-do-well and frequenter oftaverns was just the watch-dog of our noble Prince. Unknown I was ableto render him some small service. Now that you are no longer calledupon to throw me as a bait to the snarling lion, I'll resume mine ownidentity, and hereby ask you, if--knowing me for what I am--you stilltrust me to lead you to victory or to death?"
"To victory!" shout the younger men enthusiastically.
"To die like men," murmur the older ones.
"To-morrow we fight, seigniors!" says Mark earnestly, "to-morrow wedefend our homes, our wives, our daughters, with scarce a hope ofsuccess. To-morrow we show to the rulers of the world how those of thedown-trodden race can die whilst fighting for God and liberty."
"To-morrow!" they all assent with unbounded enthusiasm.
The ardour of a noble cause is in their veins. Not one of them herehesitates for one second in order to count the cost. And yet every oneof them know that theirs is a forlorn cause. How can a handful ofburghers and apprentices stand up before the might of Spain? But theyare men at bay! they--the sober burghers of a fog-ridden land, steady,wise of counsel, without an ounce of impetuosity or hot-headedness intheir blood; and yet they are ready to go into this desperate adventurewithout another thought save that of selling their lives and the honourof their women folk as dearly as they can.
For leader they have a man! for help they have only God! For incentivethey have their own dignity, their pride, their valour ... for weaponthey have the justice of their cause, and the right to die like men.
CHAPTER XVI
THE RIGHT TO DIE
I
And after the lapse of three hundred and more years the imaginationprojects itself into that past so full of heroic deeds, so full ofvalour and of glory, and stands still wondering before the glowingpictures which the insurrection of Ghent reveals.
Memory--the stern handmaiden of unruly imagination--goes back to that21st day in October 1572 and recalls the sounds and sights which fromearly dawn filled the beautiful city with a presage of desolation tocome; the church bells' melancholy appeal, the deserted streets, thebarred and shuttered houses, the crowds of women and children and oldmen sitting at prayer in their own halls, the peaceful folk of aprosperous city quietly preparing for death.
At four o'clock in the afternoon the Duke of Alva rides out of theKasteel with his staff and his bodyguard, which consists of threesquadrons of cavalry, one bandera of Spanish infantry--halberdiers andpikemen--and five companies of harquebusiers, The Bandesd'Ordonnance--the local mounted gendarmerie--are on duty in theVridachmart, and thither the Duke repairs in slow and stately majestythrough silent streets, in which every window is shuttered, and wherenot one idler or gaffer stands to see him pass by. A cruel, ironicalsmile curls his thin lips beneath the drooping moustache as he notes thedeserted aspect of the place.
"Terror," he mutters to himself, "or sulkiness. But they cannot eattheir money or their treasures: and there must be a vast deal of itbehind those walls!"
On the Vridachmart he halts with his armed escort grouped around him,the Bandes d'Ordonnance lining the market place, his standard unfurledbehind him, his drummers in the front. Not a soul out upon themart--not a head at any of the windows in the houses round! It seems asif Don Frederic Alvarez de Toledo, Duke of Alva, Lieutenant-Governor ofthe Netherlands and Captain-General of the Forces, was about to read aproclamation to a city of the dead.
A prolonged roll of drums commands silence for His Highness--silencewhich already is absolute--and then the Duke, in his usual loud andperemptory voice, demands the immediate surrender of the Prince ofOrange now an outlaw in the town. And suddenly from every house aroundthe huge market comes the answering cry: "Come and take him!" And fromevery doorway, from every adjoining street men come rushing along--withpikes and halberds and muskets, and from end to end of the town thedefiant cry arises: "Come and take him!"
The Bandes d'Ordonnance, hastily summoned by the Duke to keep back therabble, turn their arms against the Spanish halberdiers. Taking up thecry of "Come and take him!" they go over in a body to the side of theinsurgents.
At once the Walloon arquebusiers are ordered to fire. The rebels respondthis time with their own battle cry of "Orange and Liberty!" and adeath-dealing volley of musketry. Whereupon the melee becomes general;the cavalry charges into the now serried ranks of the Orangists who areforced momentarily to retreat. They are pushed back across the mart asfar as the cemetery of St. Jakab. Here they unfurl their standard, andtheir musketeers hold their ground with unshakable valour, firing frombehind the low encircling wall with marvellous precision and quicknesswhilst two bodies of halbertmen and pikemen pour out in numbers frominside the church, and their artillerymen with five culverins and threefalconets emerge out of the Guild House of the Tanners which is closeby, and take up a position in front of the cemetery.
Alva's troops soon begin to lose their nerve. They were whollyunprepared for attack, and suddenly they fee
l themselves bothoutnumbered and hard-pressed. The Duke himself had been unprepared andhad appeared upon the Vridachmart with less than two thousand men,whilst the other companies stationed in different portions of the cityhad not even been warned to hold themselves in readiness.
And just when the Spanish cavalry upon the Market Square is beginning togive ground the cry of "_Sauve qui peut_" is raised somewhere in thedistance.
The Spanish and Walloon soldiery quartered in the various guild-houses,the open markets or private homesteads were just as unprepared forattack as was the garrison of the Kasteel. They had been promised thatas soon as the evening Angelus had ceased to ring they could run wildthroughout the city, loot and pillage as much as they desired, and thatuntil that hour they could do no better than fill their heads with aleso as to be ready for the glorious sacking and destruction of therichest town in the Netherlands. Therefore, a goodly number ofthem--fresh from Mechlin--have spent the afternoon in recalling some ofthe pleasurable adventures there--the trophies gained, the treasure, themoney, the jewels all lying ready to their hand. Others have listenedopen-mouthed and agape, longing to get to work on the rich city and itswealthy burghers, and all have imbibed a great quantity of very headyale which has fuddled their brain and made them more and more drowsy asthe afternoon wears on. Their captains too have spent most of the dayin the taverns, drinking and playing hazard in anticipation of loot, andthus the men are not at the moment in touch with their commanders orwith their comrades, and all have laid aside their arms.
And simultaneously with the melee in the Vridachmart, the insurgentshave made a general attack upon every guild-house, every market, everytavern where soldiers are quartered and congregated. With much shoutingand to-do so as to give an exaggerated idea of their numbers they fallupon the unsuspecting soldiers--Walloons for the most part--andoverpower and capture them before these have fully roused themselvesfrom their afternoon torpor; their provosts and captains oft surrenderwithout striking a blow. In almost every instance--so the chroniclers ofthe time aver--fifty and sixty men were captured by a dozen or twenty,and within half an hour all the guild-houses are in the hands of theOrangists, and close on fifteen hundred Walloons are prisoners in thecellars below; whilst all the arms stowed in the open markets go toswell the stores of the brave Orange men.
Leatherface: A Tale of Old Flanders Page 24