[Master Mercurius 02] - Untrue Till Death

by Graham Brack

  ‘So they have,’ agreed the messenger, handing over the missive.

  ‘Now, no doubt you are tired and hungry. Why don’t you go and have a bite to eat and take your time about the trip back to The Hague?’ Beniamino suggested, holding a couple of coins in the air.

  ‘No skin off my nose,’ said the horseman. ‘Can I leave the horse here?’

  ‘We’ll take good care of it,’ Beniamino said. ‘Give us an hour or so. When the horse is tied to the other side of the gateway, you’ll know we’ve finished.’

  ‘Haven’t I seen you before somewhere?’ the horseman mused. Beniamino cocked the pistol. ‘No, I’m wrong, never seen you before in my life. In fact, I haven’t even seen you now.’

  ‘Good man… That’s the way I like it. Off you go.’

  The rider loped off across the square in search of breakfast, which was an enticing prospect, but we had work to do. Beniamino slit the letter open with his knife, glanced at the contents and passed it to me.

  ‘It’s not signed,’ I noted.

  ‘Of course it’s not signed. Who in their right mind signs a treasonous letter? But we know where it has come from. The rider didn’t argue when I told him to go slowly back to The Hague. And we know the message in the letter — “Flee, for all is discovered. Warn the others if you can. Men are coming to arrest you.” What a shame we got here first,’ he chuckled. ‘Stay here,’ he ordered, ‘and stop anyone coming out.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It’ll be a middle-aged man and a maid,’ said Beniamino. ‘How hard can it be? In fact, don’t bother stopping the maid. Just stop the minister. Use reasonable force.’

  ‘A minister can’t manhandle another minister!’ I expostulated.

  ‘He may kill you if you don’t.’

  ‘Ah. That changes things.’

  ‘I thought it might.’

  Beniamino went along the passage to the back of the house. Moments later I heard the door being kicked in, a maid screaming and the sound of Beniamino running up the stairs. There was some shouting, then Beniamino called to me from the upper window.

  ‘Let yourself in at the back. It’s open.’

  If “open” is a synonym for “hanging off its hinges” Beniamino was right. I made my way upstairs, ignoring the whimpering maid in the kitchen. I am not good with maids. I don’t mean that I molest them. Rather, I tend to pity them and hold conversations with them, as a result of which I find myself promising to try to improve their lot. It is a lifelong weakness of mine.

  Van der Horst was sitting on the edge of his bed in his nightwear. He did not appear frightened in the least. ‘What is this intrusion about?’

  Beniamino unfolded the note and held it so that the minister could read it, for which purpose he donned a pair of eyeglasses.

  ‘I see. And you are…’

  ‘The Stadhouder’s men. You are to come with us to The Hague.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘You’ll still come with us, but in a box.’

  I had to admire the old fellow’s poise.

  ‘May I dress first?’

  ‘Naturally. We can’t have you going out like that. It wouldn’t be decent.’

  Van der Horst dressed carefully, selecting a clean shirt and arranging his collar precisely. ‘I must look my best for the Stadhouder.’

  Beniamino indicated the stairs and told me to go down first in case the prisoner decided to throw himself down in an attempt to break his own neck.

  Having gained the street we walked across town. The minister was addressed by several people who must have wondered where he was being taken, but eventually we found the inn. The front door was now open, so we all entered and proceeded up to our room. I took the opportunity to ask the innkeeper’s wife if breakfast for three could be sent up. Even a traitor is entitled to some basic hospitality.

  He pronounced a blessing over it and we ate together. That seems astonishing to me as I say it now, but it is the case; I asked him questions, and he told me the truth.

  ‘I do not repent of my belief that this country does not need or want a Stadhouder,’ he said. ‘I have been open and honest about that, as befits a Christian man.’

  ‘Your views seem to be widely known,’ I agreed.

  ‘Nor have I countenanced violence against his person. I hate the office, not the man.’

  ‘That may weigh in your favour.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ he grimaced. ‘The Stadhouder is not of a forgiving nature. I shall hang.’

  ‘The more you confess openly, the better your chances,’ I told him.

  ‘Do you think I want to spare my life?’ he asked. ‘Why should I want to live a moment longer in a world that will never be the world I want?’

  ‘Because it is God’s world and there is no other. Because an execution would tarnish your reputation. Because your son will be on the scaffold with you.’

  ‘He has done nothing. He refused to join us.’

  ‘That is the impression you have both attempted to give. Your supposed antipathy would be protective if one or other of you were to be arrested, but it won’t do. It’s only a sham.’

  Van der Horst smiled slightly. ‘I see you are a minister too. How do you come to be doing the Stadhouder’s dirty work?’

  ‘I have been investigating the death of two men, one in Leiden, and one in Utrecht, both killed by members of your cell.’

  ‘My son?’ he asked, unable to disguise his strong emotion.

  ‘Innocent of both, so far as I know. Molenaar confessed to killing Van Leusden and Terhoeven has been named as the murderer of Van Looy.’

  He waved his hand dismissively. ‘I know neither of those names.’

  ‘I’m sure that is so. You would not need to know them, and it is safer if you do not. They were fellow students of your son in Leiden.’

  ‘Will I see him again before we suffer?’

  ‘I cannot make any promises, but I will do what I can.’

  He seemed genuinely moved. ‘Thank you, Dominie,’ he said.

  The absence of a third horse troubled me, but Beniamino had a plan. We found a barge whose master, for a certain sum, agreed to leave a little cargo behind to accommodate three men and two horses. I cannot say that the horses enjoyed the voyage, any more than we enjoyed sitting behind them and watching for any sign of intestinal activity on their part.

  ‘How much money do you have?’ I asked.

  ‘The Stadhouder is very liberal when it comes to hunting down traitors,’ he replied.

  This liberality was tested again when we switched to a second barge to take us to Leiden. We climbed out onto the quay there and were met by one of the mercenaries who informed us that they could not find Terhoeven, but young Van der Horst was in his room.

  We trooped off to corner the young man and effect a family reunion of sorts.

  Two men were left to guard the father while the rest of us arrested his son, who came without resistance. When the two men came face to face, I watched their reaction closely. Neither showed the dislike that they claimed to profess for the other.

  ‘Do we stay here to look for Terhoeven, or do we take this pair to The Hague?’ Beniamino asked me.

  ‘I think I know where Terhoeven may be, and it isn’t here,’ I said. ‘We may as well take them to the Stadhouder now. If we set off now, we may just arrive before nightfall.’

  ‘Let’s make sure that we do,’ said Beniamino, telling two of his men to walk the horses back to The Hague while the other two accompanied us and the prisoners on yet another barge. Barge travel is a way of life in our country, but I cannot say that I relish it. There are some cargoes that make the journey less pleasant, manure being one of them, which was what we were sitting beside. I would almost have preferred the lute which, I am pleased to report, had been stowed away somewhere in the Binnenhof at The Hague. Was it too much to hope that it might have gone missing by the time we arrived?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The first thing I noticed when
we disembarked at The Hague was that Molenaar was hanging from the gallows in front of the Prison Gate.

  ‘Isn’t hanging a dead person rather pointless?’ I asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ Beniamino replied. ‘Hanging is a punishment for the offender and a deterrent for the rest of us. They don’t need to know he was already dead when he was strung up.’

  ‘How long will he stay there?’

  Beniamino paused to inspect the hanging corpse. ‘Till he falls to bits or they need the gallows again. Which is likely to be quite soon, thanks to us.’ He smiled broadly, probably in contemplation of some kind of bonus, and pushed our prisoners through the gate first.

  We were greeted by a slim, ascetic looking young man at the top of the stairs.

  ‘I am Bouwman,’ he told us, ‘temporarily acting as the Stadhouder’s personal secretary in the continued indisposition of mijnheer Pieters.’

  Mijnheer Pieters was currently in the same dungeon that Molenaar had occupied and if not yet indisposed he soon would be, because the Stadhouder told Beniamino to question him as soon as we were finished in the main hall.

  The Van der Horsts were forced to kneel in front of the Stadhouder. To my surprise, he was very restrained, and did not kick either of them. In fact, he ordered chairs brought for them both.

  ‘You have plotted against me,’ he said baldly.

  ‘Not against you; against the office of Stadhouder,’ said the minister.

  ‘You think those are different?’

  ‘You have always been you, but there was a time when you were not Stadhouder, and such a time may come again. But I would be just as opposed whoever the Stadhouder is. Resign your place, and I will wish you a long life and happiness.’

  ‘And you?’ he addressed the student.

  ‘I am my father’s dutiful son in all things,’ he replied simply.

  ‘Even illegal ones?’

  ‘I am not convinced that it is illegal to want a republic without a Stadhouder. The people should choose their own leader.’

  ‘Remind me again — how often were the De Witts elected? How much say did the people have in that?’

  William had a point there. Johan de Witt had been elected Pensionary by the States of Holland, effectively the salaried leader of the government chosen by delegates to the States. There was no popular vote. And Holland was only one province; small groups of men in the other provinces agreed to acknowledge him as the leader of all the provinces.

  Young Van der Horst said nothing.

  ‘Shall I put them to the question?’ asked Beniamino, which was a euphemism for employing all those loathsome gadgets he had in the hope of eliciting a confession.

  ‘Not yet. They may volunteer what we need to know without the need for brutality, but thank you for reminding us all that it is an option,’ William answered. ‘You need to know that Pieters is in custody downstairs. His life expectancy is not long, but what does scripture tell us? “Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery.” For Pieters the short time will certainly be full of misery. My inquisitor here will see to that.’

  Beniamino inclined his head to acknowledge the testimonial to his powers.

  ‘Master Mercurius, please explain to us all what you have discovered. Bouwman, I think we would all like some wine.’

  ‘As you please, Stadhouder,’ I said, ‘but may I first ask that the Treasurer joins us?’

  ‘De Ring? What does he have to do with it? Very well, Bouwman, fetch him.’

  We sat for some minutes in silence before the door opened and Cornelis de Ring entered. He was dressed in an old-fashioned style with a long fur-trimmed gown which concealed his feet so that he appeared to glide across the floor. He bowed to the Stadhouder, who told him to take a seat.

  ‘Thank you,’ I began. ‘The man we knew as Van Looy worked for the University of Leiden. After he was murdered, we discovered that he was actually called Dekkers and was a servant of the Stadhouder, sent to Leiden to hunt out malcontents and rebels. It seemed likely that one of them was responsible for his death, particularly as we found among his papers certain secret writings that indicated a cell of three receiving orders from an intermediary who was himself directed by another. Let us call these two unknown individuals the intermediary and the director.’

  I paused to collect my thoughts.

  ‘I was then sent by the Stadhouder to Utrecht…’

  ‘Mercurius, when I said I wanted you to tell us all you know, I didn’t mean literally everything. Be selective, man.’

  ‘As you wish, Stadhouder. At Utrecht an attempt was made upon my life, which was unsuccessful.’

  ‘Obviously,’ William sighed, causing me to blush.

  ‘When a further attempt was made, the attacker was seized. He proved to be Molenaar, one of a group of three students at Leiden of whom this Van der Horst before us was another. The third was a man called Terhoeven, who vanished after Van Looy’s death. According to Molenaar, Terhoeven was responsible for the death of Van Looy and did this without orders from others. Is that correct, mijnheer Van der Horst?’

  The student stood to reply. ‘It is, master. We did not order it, nor did we approve it.’

  I turned to Cornelis de Ring, who was sitting impassively. ‘Where is Terhoeven, Master Treasurer?’

  I felt quite proud of myself as I surveyed the astonished faces. It was what I believe the French call a coup de théâtre.

  ‘I discovered in the University Registry that you meet his fees.’

  The Treasurer rose slowly to his feet. ‘Terhoeven is my godson, Stadhouder, the son of a younger sister whose parents died when he was yet a minor. He came to live in my house and, so far as I know, is currently at my country estate.’

  ‘Have you spoken to him since the death of Van Looy?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. He admits his part but urges that he was on the Stadhouder’s business at the time.’

  ‘On my business?’ the Stadhouder exploded. ‘How dare he bring me into this!’

  Leaving aside the question of whether the Stadhouder was already in the business as the intended victim of a plot, it seemed reasonable to request an explanation of Terhoeven’s extraordinary statement.

  ‘It is my fault, Stadhouder. I beg that I will suffer the punishment and disgrace that would otherwise fall to my godson.’

  The Stadhouder had calmed down somewhat. There was no more exemplary servant of the nation than De Ring, which fact earned him some consideration.

  ‘Please sit, Master Treasurer, and explain yourself.’

  ‘Thank you, Stadhouder. I am not as supple as I was, however much I try to deny the fact to myself. There was talk some time ago of plots against you. My godson entered the University at Leiden last year. When he told me that he had heard disloyal talk there, I urged him to give the appearance of enthusiasm for the cause in the hope that he would garner firm evidence that I could bring to you. He reported that he had made common cause with two colleagues but that, while Molenaar was eager to act, Van der Horst was very cautious. My godson therefore took it upon himself to goad them into action, his idea being that once a plot was about to hatch, he would inform on them.’

  ‘That does not explain the death of Van Looy,’ I prompted.

  ‘I did not know that Van Looy was active in the University,’ De Ring claimed.

  ‘But you paid him?’

  ‘Indeed I did; but you will permit me to remind you, Master, that I explained the process to you. In order to enhance the security of the agent, I knew only that he was somewhere, and only under his real name. I confess it never crossed my mind that the Stadhouder might not have ignored my warnings as I thought, but have secretly dispatched Van Looy to investigate.’

  He took a sip from the goblet of wine he had been given.

  ‘At some point my godson spotted Van Kamerik, who is a neighbour of ours, visiting the University and followed him. Discovering that he was in conversation with Van Looy, and knowing Van Kamerik’s r
ole here, he deduced that Van Looy must be in communication with The Hague and approached him. By his account, he told Van Looy that he was acting for the Stadhouder and offered to share information; to his surprise, Van Looy called him a liar, argued that if there were other agents in Leiden he would have been told about them, and told him this was a feeble attempt to save his pitiful neck. He said that the three students were all named in the report he was writing. Terhoeven panicked and struck him, his intention being to find and steal the report to avoid exposure. If he was declared a traitor, he risked the noose if he could not establish his motive, but if he did so he would be hunted down by other traitors and killed. The only safe way was to prevent the report being sent. He searched for it but failed to find it, and his delay in getting help meant that mijnheer Van Looy died for want of care. In case he had been seen entering Van Looy’s room, my godson tipped the body down the stairs, which was disrespectful of him.’

  I might have suggested that hitting somebody over the head with a heavy object was more disrespectful, but I held my peace.

  ‘At a later time, Terhoeven returned to make a more thorough search. Not finding the report, and fearing that his colleagues disapproved his actions, he fled to my house for safety. I give you my word, Stadhouder, that if I had been at home I would have brought him back here to throw himself on your mercy.’

  William gnawed his thumb and said nothing.

  ‘May I continue?’ I asked. Receiving a nod, I launched into the second part of my account. ‘I was then sent to Utrecht to confirm whether there were plots afoot there. I need not describe what occurred in that city, except that I was followed by Molenaar. Molenaar and Van der Horst had been watching me to see whether Terhoeven’s actions had drawn attention to their cell.’

  Van der Horst interjected. ‘We had the greatest respect for your mental abilities, Master. Molenaar was convinced that if you had not yet made the connection, you soon would, and therefore that you must be dealt with.’

  ‘I foolishly told Molenaar where I was going. He must have followed at the first opportunity, and on Wednesday evening, during the great storm, he made his move. Unfortunately the victim was not me; I had lent my clerical cloak to Bartholomeus van Leusden, whom Molenaar battered to death in my stead. Thus disappointed, he resolved to try again, but Beniamino here prevented him, and he was arrested. Brought here, he was poisoned before he could speak.’