"Yes; I think so, child," said Lenora quietly. "But, tell me, dost knowwhat happened after that?"
"No, lady, I do not. I went to look for Katrine, just as the strangerordered me to do. But," she added under her breath, and still under thespell of past terrors, "we heard afterwards through Pierre Beauters, thebutcher, that the noble seignior commandant was found killed that samenight in the tavern of the 'Three Weavers.' The provost found him lyingdead in the same room where the archangel had appeared."
"Stabbed, child, didst thou say?"
"No, noble lady. The provost told Pierre Beauters that the nobleSpanish commandant had been felled by mighty hands in a hand-to-handfight; he had no wound on him, only the marks of powerful fingers roundhis throat. But his own dagger, they say, was covered in blood. PierreBeauters helped to place the body in the coffin, and he said that thenoble Spanish commandant had been killed in fair fight--a fight withfists, and not with swords. He also said that the stranger who killedhim was the mysterious Leatherface, of whom we hear so much, and that,mayhap, we should never hear of him again, for the Spanish commandantmust have wounded him to death ... the dagger was covered with bloodalmost to the hilt. But," concluded Grete, with a knowing little nod ofthe head, "this I did not believe at the time, and now I know that itwas not so; the stranger may not have been one of the archangels, buttruly he was a messenger of God. When the noble lady brought me backwith her to Ghent I heard the men talking about the mysteriousLeatherface. Then the day before yesterday when the cavalrymen flewhelter-skelter into the castle-yard, they still talked loudly ofLeatherface; but I guessed then that he was not a real archangel, butjust a brave man who protects the weak, and fights for justice, and..."
She paused, terrified at what she had said. Ignorant as she was, sheknew well enough that the few last words which she had uttered hadcaused men and women to be burned at the stake before now. Wide-eyedand full of fear she looked on the noble Spanish lady, expecting everymoment to see a commanding finger pointed on her, and orders given forher immediate arrest.
Instead of which she saw before her a pale, slim girl scarce older thanherself, and infinitely more pathetic, just a young and beautiful womanwith pale face and eyes swimming in tears, whose whole attitude justexpressed an immense and overwhelming grief.
The veil of mystery which had hung over Ramon's death had indeed beenlifted at last by the rough, uncouth hands of the innkeeper's daughter.Lenora as yet hardly dared to look into the vista which it opened upbefore her: boundless remorse, utter hopelessness, the dreary sense ofthe irreparable--all that lay beyond the present stunning blow of thisterrible revelation.
God in Heaven! she cried out mutely in her misery, how could she everhave thought--even for a moment--that those grey eyes, so merry and yetso tender--could mask a treacherous and cowardly soul? How could shethink that those lips which so earnestly pleaded for a kiss could everhave been framed to hide a lying tongue? Would to God that she couldstill persuade herself that all this new revelation was a dream; thatGrete--the unsophisticated child--had lied and concocted the whole storyto further some hidden schemes of her own! Would to God she could stillbelieve that Mark was vile and false--an assassin and a perjurer--andthat she could hate him still!
She met Grete's eyes fixed so fearfully upon hers--she met them at themoment when she was about to give herself over to the transienthappiness of a brief day-dream ... dreams of two unforgettable hourswhen he sat beside her with his hand shading his face ... his eyesresting upon her ... dreams of his voice when he said: "When I look atyou, Madonna, I invariably think of happiness."
IV
But Grete recalled her to herself, and to the awful present. Despiteher great respect for the noble Spanish lady, she suddenly put her armsround her shoulders, and tried to draw her away from the open window.
"His Highness!" she whispered hurriedly, "he will see us."
"What matters, child," murmured Lenora, "he will not harm us."
Instinctively, however, she did yield to Grete's insistence and drewback slightly from the window. From the balcony down below there camethe sound of measured tramping. Two or three men were walking thereslowly up and down and talking confidentially together while theywalked. Whenever they were close to the window their voices came upquite distinctly, but it was impossible to hear all that they said, butone or two disjointed sentences gave a faint clue to the subject oftheir conversation. Lenora now leaned closer to the window-frame tryingto hear, for she had recognised her father's voice as well as that ofthe Duke of Alva, and they were speaking of their future plans againstthe rebels and against the city, and Lenora felt that she would give herlife to know what those plans were.
After a moment or two she heard the voice of Captain de Avila; he wasapparently coming up the iron stairs from the yard and was speakinghurriedly:
"A runner, your Highness," he said, "straight from Dendermonde."
"What news?" queried the Duke, and his voice sounded almost choked as ifwith fierce impatience.
"One of Captain Lodrono's messengers reached Dendermonde last night,"replied de Avila, "he was lucky enough to get a horse almost at once."
"Well...? and...?"
"This man came running straight back to bring us the news! CaptainBracamonte started at break of day: he should be well on his way withthe reinforcements by now."
There was a hoarse exclamation of satisfaction and a confused murmur ofvoices for a moment or two. Then de Vargas spoke:
"It was a bold venture, Monseigneur," he said.
"This truce, you mean?" retorted Alva. "Well! not quite so bold as itappeared. Those Netherlanders are such mighty fools that it is alwayseasy to make them believe anything that we choose to tell them: do theynot always fall into our traps? I had only to swear by my immortal soulthat we had not sent for reinforcements and the last of their resistancewas overcome."
Lenora could hear her father's harsh laugh after this and then del Riosaid blandly:
"Van Rycke did not believe in that oath."
"Perhaps not at first," Alva said, "but it was so finely worded andspoken with such solemnity, it was bound to carry conviction in theend."
"You were not afraid, Monseigneur," queried de Vargas, "this morning ...in the crowd ... after Mass ... that the rebels would break the truceand fall upon our men?"
"No," replied the Duke curtly, "were you?"
There came no answer from de Vargas, and to the listeners it seemed asif by his silence he was admitting that he did not believe the Orangistscapable of such abominable treachery. A fine tribute that--Lenorathought--from her father who hated and despised the Netherlanders! Buthe and Alva would even now call such loyalty and truth the merestupidity of uncultured clowns.
"Anyhow it was worth the risk," de Vargas resumed after awhile, withthat cold cynicism which will sacrifice friends, adherents, kindred forthe furtherance of political aims.
"Well worth the risk," asserted Alva, "we have gained the whole ofto-day. If these rebels had rushed the Kasteel this morning, I verilybelieve that we could not have held it: I might have fallen into theirhands and--with me as their hostage--they would by now have been in aposition to dictate their own terms before reinforcements reachedus--always supposing that they did not murder us all. Yes," hereiterated with obvious satisfaction, "even if treachery had been in theair it was still well worth the risk."
"And in the meanwhile..." suggested del Rio.
"In the meanwhile Bracamonte is on his way here.... He must have startedwell before noon ... he might be here before nightfall...."
"With at least five thousand men, I hope," added de Vargas.
"Night may see us masters of this city once more, seigniors," rejoinedAlva, "and by God we'll punish those rebels for the fright they havegiven us. Ghent will be envying Mons and Mechlin...."
The three men walked slowly away after that, and their voices were lostin the distance. The listeners could no longer distingui
sh what wassaid, but anon a harsh laugh struck their ear, and leaning out of thewindow Lenora could see the Duke and her father standing just outsidethe council-chamber. The Duke had thrown back his head and was laughingheartily, de Vargas too looked highly amused. Not one single word ofremorse or regret had been spoken by either of them for the blasphemousoath which had finally overcome the resistance of the Orangists: of atruth it did not weigh on the conscience of the man who had so wantonlyoutraged his Maker less than an hour before he knelt at the foot of HisAltar, and de Vargas and his kind were only too ready to benefit by theperjury.
The sack of Ghent--jeopardised for a few hours--was once more loomingahead as a coveted prize. What was a false oath or so--one crime themore--when weighed in the balance with all the money and treasure whichthe unexpected resistance of a few Flemish clowns had so nearly wrenchedfrom these noble Spaniards' grasp?
V
"Didst hear?" came in a smothered whisper from Lenora. She had turnedsuddenly and now faced Grete, who stood wide-eyed and terrified in thecentre of the room. Her arms were behind her, and she clung to thewindow-ledge: her fair hair--all loose--streamed round her shoulders;pale, with glowing eyes and quivering lips, she looked like somebeautiful feline creature at bay.
"Didst hear?" she reiterated hoarsely.
"Every word, most noble lady," came the whispered response.
"What didst make of it?"
"That His Highness sent to Dendermonde for help, and that troops are ontheir way."
"But His Highness swore most solemnly that he would respect the trucewhich he himself asked for, and that both sides would resume the fight... this evening ... just as they were before ... without fresh help orreinforcements."
"I heard the men say last night, noble lady, that reinforcements hadalready been sent for from Dendermonde ... the Duke feared that theNetherlanders were getting the upper hand ... he asked for the truceonly to gain time...."
"Then ... if Captain Bracamonte arrives from Dendermonde with freshtroops the Netherlanders are lost!"
"God guard them," said Grete fervently. "He alone can save them now."
"Oh!" cried Lenora with sudden passionate bitterness, "how can menconceive such abominable treachery? How can God allow them to triumph?"
Grete said nothing. Her eyes were full of tears. Lenora staredstraight out before her into the dark corner of the room: there was afrown of deep thought between her brows, and her fresh young mouthbecame hard and set.
"Grete," she said abruptly, "is it not horrible to think that those wecare for are liars and traitors?"
Then, as Grete made no reply, she continued with the same passionatevehemence: "Is it not horrible to think that brave men must be butcheredlike cattle, because they trusted in the oath of a perjurer? ... Oh!that all the baseness, all the lying should be on one side and all theheroism on the other! and that God should allow those monsters totriumph!..."
She paused and suddenly her whole expression changed--the vehemence, thepassion went out of it ... her lips ceased to quiver, a curious palloroverspread her cheeks and the lines of her mouth became hard and set.
"Grete," she said abruptly, "art afraid?"
"Of what, noble lady?" asked the child.
"Oh! of everything ... of insults and violence and death?"
"No, noble lady," said Grete simply. "I trust to God to protect me."
"Then wilt come with me?"
"Whither, noble lady?"
"Into the city ... alone with me ... we'll pretend that we go toBenediction...."
"Into the city...?" exclaimed the girl. "Alone?"
"Art afraid?"
"No."
"Then put up my hair and get hood and cloak and give me mine...."
Grete did as she was ordered. She pinned up Lenora's fair hair andbrought her a mantle and hood and wrapped them round her: then shefastened on her own.
"Come!" said Lenora curtly.
She took the girl by the hand and together the two women went out of theroom. Their way led them through endless corridors and down a long,winding staircase; hand in hand they ran like furtive little animals onthe watch for the human enemy. Down below the big flagged hall was fullof soldiers: the two women only realised this when they reached the lastlanding.
"Will they let us pass?" murmured Grete.
"Walk beside me and hold thy head boldly," said Lenora, "they must notthink that we are afraid of being challenged."
She walked down the last flight of the stairs with slow majestic steps:her arms folded beneath her cloak, looking straight ahead of her withthat air of calm detachment and contempt of others which the Spanish_noblesse_ knew so well how to assume.
Captain de Avila was below: at sight of donna Lenora he came forward andsaid with absolute respect:
"La senora desires to go out?"
"As you see," she replied haughtily.
"Not further than the precincts of the Kasteel, I hope."
"What is that to you, whither I go?" she queried.
"My orders..." he stammered, somewhat taken aback by this grand manneron the part of the senora who had always been so meek and silenthitherto.
"What orders have you had, seigneur capitaine?" she queried, "whichwarrant your interference with my movements?"
"I ... truly..." he murmured, "senor de Vargas..."
"My father, I presume, has not given you the right to question myfreedom to go and come as I please," she retorted, still with the sameuncompromising hauteur.
"No ... but..."
"Then I pray you let me pass.... I hear the bells of St. Pharailde ...I shall be late for Benediction...."
She swept past him, leaving him not a little bewildered and completelyabashed. He watched her tall, graceful figure as she sailed through theportico and thence across the castle-yard, then he shrugged hisshoulders as if to cast aside any feeling of responsibility whichthreatened to worry him, and returned to the guard-room and to his gameof hazard. It was only then that he recollected that it lacked anothertwo hours to Benediction yet.
In the yard Lenora had more serious misgivings.
"There's the guard at the gate-house," she murmured. "Keep up thy lookof unconcern, Grete. We can only win if we are bold."
As she anticipated the provost at the gate-house challenged her.
"I go to St. Pharailde," she said calmly, "my father is with me. Hehath stopped to speak with Captain de Avila. Lower the bridge, provost,and let us pass. We are late enough for Benediction as it is."
The provost hesitated for a moment.
"The seigneur capitaine sent me orders just now that no one was to leavethe Kasteel," he said.
"Am I under the seigneur capitaine's orders," she retorted, "or thedaughter of senor de Vargas, who will punish thee, sirrah, for thineinsolence?"
The provost, much disturbed in his mind, had not the courage to runcounter to the noble lady's wish. He had had no orders with regard toher, and as she very rightly said, she was not under the orders of theseigneur capitaine.
He ordered the bridge to be lowered for her, vaguely intending not tolet her pass until he assured himself that senor de Vargas was nigh: butLenora gave him no time for reflection: she waited until the bridge wasdown, then suddenly she seized Grete's hand and quick as a young hareshe darted past the provost and the guard before they thought of layinghands on her, and she was across the bridge before they had recoveredfrom their surprise.
Once on the open ground Lenora drew breath. The provost and the guardcould not very well run after her, and for the moment she was safe frompursuit. On ahead lay the sharp bend of the Lower Schelde, beyond itthe ruined mass of the Vleeshhuis, and the row of houses, now allshattered to pieces, where the Orangists held their watch. Her heart wasbeating furiously, and she felt Grete's rough little hand quivering inhers. She felt such a tiny atom, a mere speck in this wide open space.In front of her was the city, which seemed even in the silence of thisSunday afternoon to be quiveri
ng in the throes of oncoming death: toright and left of her the great tract of flat country, this land ofBelgium which she had not yet learned to love but for which she now felta wonderful pity.
It was a rude lesson which she had been made to learn within the lasthour: the lesson that the idols of her childhood and girlhood had notonly feet of clay but that they were steeped to the neck in the mire offalsehoods and treachery: she had also learned that the man whom she hadonce hated with such passionate bitterness was worthy of a pure woman'slove: that happiness had knocked at the gateway of her own heart andbeen refused admittance: and that God was not wont to give very obviousguidance in the terrible perplexities which at times beset Hiscreatures.
Therefore now she no longer lured herself with the belief that she wasacting at this moment under the direct will of God, she knew that shewas guided by an overmastering and blind instinct which told her thatshe must see Mark--at once--and warn him that the perfidy of the Duke ofAlva had set a deathly trap for him and for his friends.
A few more minutes and she and Grete were over the Ketel Brueghe andunder the shadow of the tall houses on the river embankment beyond.
Leatherface: A Tale of Old Flanders Page 29