by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER IV.
Countless citizens had flocked to the stately townhall. News of Louis ofNassau's defeat had spread quickly through all the eighteen wards of thecity, and each wanted to learn farther particulars, express his griefand fears to those who held the same views, and hear what measures thecouncil intended to adopt for the immediate future.
Two messengers had only too thoroughly confirmed Baron Matanesse VanWibisma's communication. Louis was dead, his brother Henry missing, andhis army completely destroyed.
Jan Van Hout, who had taught the boys that morning, now came to awindow, informed the citizens what a severe blow the liberty of thecountry had received, and in vigorous words exhorted them to support thegood cause with body and soul.
Loud cheers followed this speech. Gay caps and plumed hats were tossedin the air, canes and swords were waved, and the women and children, whohad crowded among the men, fluttered their handkerchiefs, and with theirshriller voices drowned the shouts of the citizens.
The members of the valiant city-guard assembled, to charge their captainto give the council the assurance, that the "Schutterij" was ready tosupport William of Orange to the last penny and drop of their blood,and would rather die for the cause of Holland, than live under Spanishtyranny. Among them was seen many a grave, deeply-troubled face; forthese men, who filled its ranks by their own choice, all loved Williamof Orange: his sorrow hurt them--and their country's distress piercedtheir hearts. As soon as the four burgomasters, the eight magistrates ofthe city, and the members of the common council appeared at the windows,hundreds of voices joined in the Geusenlied,--[Beggars' Song or Hymn.Beggar was the name given to the patriots by those who sympathized withSpain.]--which had long before been struck up by individuals, and whenat sunset the volatile populace scattered and, still singing, turned,either singly or by twos or threes, towards the taverns, to strengthentheir confidence in better days and dispel many a well-justified anxietyby drink, the market-place of Leyden and its adjoining streets presentedno different aspect, than if a message of victory had been read from thetown-hall.
The cheers and Beggars' Song had sounded very powerful--but so manyhundreds of Dutch throats would doubtless have been capable of shakingthe air with far mightier tones.
This very remark had been made by the three well-dressed citizens,who were walking through the wide street, past the blue stone, and theeldest said to his companions:
"They boast and shout and seem large to themselves now, but we shall seethat things will soon be very different."
"May God avert the worst!" replied the other, "but the Spaniards willsurely advance again, and I know many in my ward who won't vote forresistance this time."
"They are right, a thousand times right. Requesens is not Alva, and ifwe voluntarily seek the king's pardon--"
"There would be no blood shed and everything would take the bestcourse."
"I have more love for Holland than for Spain," said the third. "But,after Mook-Heath, resistance is a thing of the past. Orange may be anexcellent prince, but the shirt is closer than the coat."
"And in fact we risk our lives and fortunes merely for him."
"My wife said so yesterday."
"He'll be the last man to help trade. Believe me, many think as we do,if it were not so, the Beggars' Song would have sounded louder."
"There will always be five fools to three wise men," said the oldercitizen. "I took good care not to split my mouth."
"And after all, what great thing is there behind this outcry forfreedom? Alva burnt the Bible-readers, De la Marck hangs the priests.My wife likes to go to Mass, but always does so secretly, as if she werecommitting a crime."
"We, too, cling to the good old faith."
"Never mind faith," said the third. "We are Calvinists, but I take nopleasure in throwing my pennies into Orange's maw, nor can it gratify meto again tear up the poles before the Cow-gate, ere the wind dries theyarn."
"Only let us hold together," advised the older man. "People don'texpress their real opinions, and any poor ragged devil might play thehero. But I tell you there will be sensible men enough in every ward,every guild, nay, even in the council, and among the burgomasters."
"Hush," whispered the second citizen, "there comes Van der Werff withthe city clerk and young Van der Does; they are the worst of all."
The three persons named came down the broad street, talking eagerlytogether, but in low tones.
"My uncle is right, Meister Peter," said Jan Van der Does, the sametall young noble, who, on the morning of that day, had sent NicolasVan Wibisma home with a kindly warning. "It's no use, you must seek thePrince and consult with him."
"I suppose I must," replied the burgomaster. "I'll go to-morrowmorning."
"Not to-morrow," replied Van Hout. "The Prince rides fast, and if youdon't find him in Delft--"
"Do you go first," urged the burgomaster, "you have the record of oursession."
"I cannot; but to-day you, the Prince's friend, for the first time lackgood-will."
"You are right, Jan," exclaimed the burgomaster, "and you shall knowwhat holds me back."
"If it is anything a friend can do for you, here he stands," said vonNordwyk.
Van der Werff grasped the hand the young nobleman extended, andanswered, smiling: "No, my lord, no. You know my young wife. To-day weshould have celebrated the first anniversary of our marriage, and amidall these anxieties I disgracefully forgot it."
"Hard, hard," said Van Hout, softly. Then he drew himself up to his fullheight, and added resolutely: "And yet, were I in your place, I wouldgo, in spite of her."
"Would you go to-day?"
"To-day, for to-morrow it may be too late. Who knows how soon egressfrom the city may be stopped and, before again venturing the utmost, wemust know the Prince's opinion. You possess more of his confidence thanany of us."
"And God knows how gladly I would bring him a cheering word in thesesorrowful hours; but it must not be to-day. The messenger has ridden offon my bay."
"Then take my chestnut, he is faster too," said Janus Dousa and Van derWerff answered hastily.
"Thanks, my lord. I'll send for him early tomorrow morning."
The blood mounted to Van Hout's head and, thrusting his hand angrilybetween his girdle and doublet, he exclaimed: "Send me the chestnut, ifthe burgomaster will give me leave of absence."
"No, send him to me," replied Peter calmly. "What must be, must be; I'llgo to-day."
Van Hout's manly features quickly smoothed and, clasping theburgomaster's right hand in both his, he said joyously:
"Thanks, Herr Peter. And no offence; you know my hot temper. If the timeseems long to your young wife, send her to mine."
"And mine," added Dousa. "It's a strange thing about those two littlewords 'wish' and 'ought.' The freer and better a man becomes, the moresurely the first becomes the slave of the second.
"And yet, Herr Peter, I'll wager that your wife will confound thetwo words to-day, and think you have sorely transgressed against the'ought.' These are bad times for the 'wish.'"
Van der Werff nodded assent, then briefly and firmly explained to hisfriends what he intended to disclose to the Prince.
The three men separated before the burgomaster's house.
"Tell the Prince," said Van Hout, on parting, "that we are prepared forthe worst, will endure and dare it."
At these words Janus Dousa measured both his companions with his eyes,his lips quivered as they always did when any strong emotion filledhis heart, and while his shrewd face beamed with joy and confidence, heexclaimed: "We three will hold out, we three will stand firm, the tyrantmay break our necks, but he shall not bend them. Life, fortune, all thatis dear and precious and useful to man, we will resign for the highestof blessings."
"Ay," said Van der Werff, loudly and earnestly, while Van Houtimpetuously repeated: "Yes, yes, thrice yes."
The three men, so united in feeling, grasped each other's hands firmlyfor a moment. A silent vow bound them in this hou
r, and when Herr vonNordwyk and Van Hout turned in opposite directions, the citizens who metthem thought their tall figures had grown taller still within the lastfew hours.
The burgomaster went to his wife's room without delay, but did not findher there.
She had gone out of the gate with his sister.
The maid-servant carried a light into his chamber; he followed her,examined the huge locks of his pistols, buckled on his old sword, putwhat he needed into his saddle-bags, then, with his tall figure drawn upto its full height, paced up and down the room, entirely absorbed in histask.
Herr von Nordwyk's chestnut horse was stamping on the pavement beforethe door, and Hesperus was rising above the roofs.
The door of the house now opened.
He went into the entry and found, not his wife, but Adrian, who had justreturned home, told the boy to give his most loving remembrances tohis mother, and say that he was obliged to seek the Prince on importantbusiness.
Old Trautchen had already washed and undressed little Elizabeth, and nowbrought him the child wrapped in a coverlet. He kissed the dear littleface, which smiled at him out of its queer disguise, pressed his lipsto Adrian's forehead, again told him to give his love to his mother, andthen rode down Marendorpstrasse.
Two women, coming from the Rheinsburger gate, met him just as he reachedSt. Stephen's cloister. He did not notice them, but the younger onepushed the kerchief back from her head, hastily grasped her companion'swrist, and exclaimed in a low tone:
"That was Peter!"
Barbara raised her head higher.
"It's lucky I'm not timid. Let go of my arm. Do you mean the horsemantrotting past St. Ursula alley?"
"Yes, it is Peter."
"Nonsense, child! The bay has shorter legs than that tall camel; andPeter never rides out at this hour."
"But it was he."
"God forbid! At night a linden looks like a beechtree. It would be apretty piece of business, if he didn't come home to-day."
The last words had escaped Barbara's lips against her will; for untilthen she had prudently feigned not to suspect that everything betweenMaria and her husband was not exactly as it ought to be, thoughshe plainly perceived what was passing in the mind of her youngsister-in-law.
She was a shrewd woman, with much experience of the world, who certainlydid not undervalue her brother and his importance to the cause of theirnative land; nay, she went so far as to believe that, with the exceptionof the Prince of Orange, no man on earth would be more skilful thanPeter in guiding the cause of freedom to a successful end; but she feltthat her brother was not treating Maria justly, and being a fair-mindedwoman, silently took sides against the husband who neglected his wife.
Both walked side by side for a time in silence. At last the widowpaused, saying:
"Perhaps the Prince has sent a messenger for Peter. In such times, aftersuch blows, everything is possible. You might have seen correctly."
"It was surely he," replied Maria positively.
"Poor fellow!" said the other. "It must be a sad ride for him! Muchhonor, much hardship! You've no reason to despond, for your husbandwill return tomorrow or the day after; while I--look at me, Maria! I gothrough life stiff and straight, do my duty cheerfully; my cheeks arerosy, my food has a relish, yet I've been obliged to resign what wasdearest to me. I have endured my widowhood ten years; my daughterGretchen has married, and I sent Cornelius myself to the Beggars of theSea. Any hour may rob me of him, for his life is one of constantperil. What has a widow except her only son? And I gave him up for ourcountry's cause! That is harder than to see a husband ride away for afew hours on the anniversary of his wedding-day. He certainly doesn't doit for his own pleasure!"
"Here we are at home," said Maria, raising the knocker.
Trautchen opened the door and, even before crossing the threshold,Barbara exclaimed:
"Is your master at home?"
The reply was in the negative, as she too now expected.
Adrian gave his message; Trautchen brought up the supper, but theconversation would not extend beyond "yes" and "no."
After Maria had hastily asked the blessing, she rose, and turning toBarbara, said:
"My head aches, I should like to go to bed."
"Then go to rest," replied the widow. "I'll sleep in the next room andleave the door open. In darkness and silence--whims come."
Maria kissed her sister-in-law with sincere affection, and lay down inbed; but she found no sleep, and tossed restlessly to and fro until nearmidnight.
Hearing Barbara cough in the next room, she sat up and asked:
"Sister-in-law, are you asleep?"
"No, child. Do you feel ill?"
"Not exactly; but I'm so anxious--horrible thoughts torment me."
Barbara instantly lighted a candle at the night-lamp, entered thechamber with it, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Her heart ached as she gazed at the pretty young creature lying alone,full of sorrow, in the wide bed, unable to sleep from bitter grief.
Maria had never seemed to her so beautiful; resting in her whitenight-robes on the snowy pillow, she looked like a sorrowing angel.
Barbara could not refrain from smoothing the hair back from the narrowforehead and kissing the flushed cheeks.
Maria gazed gratefully into her small, light-blue eyes and saidbeseechingly:
"I should like to ask you something."
"Well?"
"But you must honestly tell me the truth."
"That is asking a great deal!"
"I know you are sincere, but it is--"
"Speak freely."
"Was Peter happy with his first wife?"
"Yes, child, yes."
"And do you know this not only from him, but also from his dead wife,Eva?"
"Yes, sister-in-law, yes."
"And you can't be mistaken?"
"Not in this case certainly! But what puts such thoughts into your head?The Bible says: 'Let the dead bury their dead.' Now turn over and try tosleep."
Barbara went back to her room, but hours elapsed ere Maria found theslumber she sought.