Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch

by H. Rider Haggard

  CHAPTER XI

  ADRIAN RESCUES BEAUTY IN DISTRESS

  All that long evening Adrian wandered about the causeways which piercedthe meadowlands and marshes, pondering these things and picturinghimself as having attained to the dignity of a grandee of Spain, perhapseven--who could tell--to the proud rank of a Knight of the Golden Fleeceentitled to stand covered in the presence of his Sovereign. More thanone snipe and other bird such as he had come to hawk rose at his feet,but so preoccupied was he that they were out of flight before hecould unhood his falcon. At length, after he had passed the church ofWeddinvliet, and, following the left bank of the Old Vliet, was oppositeto the wood named Boshhuyen after the half-ruined castle that stood init, he caught sight of a heron winging its homeward way to the heronry,and cast off his peregrine out of the hood. She saw the quarry at onceand dashed towards it, whereon the heron, becoming aware of the approachof its enemy, began to make play, rising high into the air in narrowcircles. Swiftly the falcon climbed after it in wider rings till atlength she hovered high above and stooped, but in vain. With a quickturn of the wings the heron avoided her, and before the falcon couldfind her pitch again, was far on its path towards the wood.

  Once more the peregrine climbed and stooped with a like result. Athird time she soared upwards in great circles, and a third time rusheddownwards, now striking the quarry full and binding to it. Adrian, whowas following their flight as fast as he could run, leaping some of thedykes in his path and splashing through others, saw and paused to watchthe end. For a moment hawk and quarry hung in the air two hundred feetabove the tallest tree beneath them, for at the instant of its takingthe heron had begun to descend to the grove for refuge, a strugglingblack dot against the glow of sunset. Then, still bound together, theyrushed downward headlong, for their spread and fluttering wings did notserve to stay their fall, and vanished among the tree-tops.

  "Now my good hawk will be killed in the boughs--oh! what a fool was Ito fly so near the wood," thought Adrian to himself as again he startedforward.

  Pushing on at his best pace, soon he was wandering about among the treesas near to that spot where he had seen the birds fall as he could guessit, calling to the falcon and searching for her with his eyes. But here,in the dense grove, the fading light grew faint, so that at length hewas obliged to abandon the quest in despair, and turned to find his wayto the Leyden road. When within twenty paces of it, suddenly he cameupon hawk and heron. The heron was stone dead, and the brave falcon soinjured that it seemed hopeless to try to save her, for as he feared,they had crashed through the boughs of a tree in their fall. Adrianlooked at her in dismay, for he loved this bird, which was the best ofits kind in the city, having trained her himself from a nestling. Indeedthere had always been a curious sympathy between himself and this fiercecreature of which he made a companion as another man might of a dog.Even now he noted with a sort of pride that broken-winged and shatteredthough she was, her talons remained fixed in the back of the quarry, andher beak through the neck.

  He stroked the falcon's head, whereon the bird, recognising him, loosedher grip of the heron and tried to flutter to her accustomed perch uponhis wrist, only to fall to the ground, where she lay watching him withher bright eyes. Then, because there was no help for it, although hechoked with grief at the deed, Adrian struck her on the head with hisstaff until she died.

  "Goodbye, friend," he muttered; "at least that is the best way to gohence, dying with a dead foe beneath," and, picking up the peregrine, hesmoothed her ruffled feathers and placed her tenderly in his satchel.

  Then it was, just as Adrian rose to his feet, standing beneath theshadow of the big oak upon which the birds had fallen, that coming fromthe road, which was separated from him by a little belt of undergrowth,he heard the sound of men's voices growling and threatening, and withthem a woman's cry for help. At any other time he would have hesitatedand reconnoitred, or, perhaps, have retreated at once, for he knew wellthe dangers of mixing himself up in the quarrels of wayfarers in thoserough days. But the loss of the hawk had exasperated his nerves, makingany excitement or adventure welcome to him. Therefore, without pausingto think, Adrian pushed forward through the brushwood to find himself inthe midst of a curious scene.

  Before him ran the grassy road or woodland lane. In the midst of it,sprawling on his back, for he had been pulled from his horse, laya stout burgher, whose pockets were being rifled by a heavy-browedfootpad, who from time to time, doubtless to keep him quiet, threatenedhis victim with a knife. On the pillion of the burgher's thicksetFlemish horse, which was peacefully cropping at the grass, sat amiddle-aged female, who seemed to be stricken dumb with terror, while afew paces away a second ruffian and a tall, bony woman were engaged indragging a girl from the back of a mule.

  Acting on the impulse of the moment, Adrian shouted,

  "Come on, friends, here are the thieves," whereon the robber woman tookto flight and the man wheeled round, as he turned snatching a nakedknife from his girdle. But before he could lift it Adrian's heavy staffcrashed down upon the point of his shoulder, causing him to drop thedagger with a howl of pain. Again the staff rose and fell, this timeupon his head, staggering him and knocking off his cap, so that thelight, such as it was, shone upon his villainous fat face, the fringe ofsandy-coloured whisker running from throat to temples, and the baldhead above, which Adrian knew at once for that of Hague Simon, or theButcher. Fortunately for him, however, the Butcher was too surprised,or too much confused by the blow which he had received upon his head,to recognise his assailant. Nor, having lost his knife, and believingdoubtless that Adrian was only the first of a troop of rescuers, did heseem inclined to continue the combat, but, calling to his companionto follow him, he began to run after the woman with a swiftness almostincredible in a man of his build and weight, turning presently into thebrushwood, where he and his two fellow thieves vanished away.

  Adrian dropped the point of his stick and looked round him, for thewhole affair had been so sudden, and the rout of the enemy so complete,that he was tempted to believe he must be dreaming. Not eighty secondsago he was hiding the dead falcon in his satchel, and now behold! he wasa gallant knight who, unarmed, except for a dagger, which he forgot todraw, had conquered two sturdy knaves and a female accomplice, bristlingwith weapons, rescuing from their clutches Beauty (for doubtless themaiden was beautiful), and, incidentally, her wealthy relatives. Justthen the lady, who had been dragged from the mule to the ground, whereshe still lay, struggled to her knees and looked up, thereby causing thehood of her travelling cloak to fall back from her head.

  Thus it was, softened and illuminated by the last pale glow of thissummer evening, that Adrian first saw the face of Elsa Brant, the womanupon whom, in the name of love, he was destined to bring so much sorrow.

  The hero Adrian, overthrower of robbers, looked at the kneeling Elsa,and knew that she was lovely, as, under the circumstances, was right andfitting, and the rescued Elsa, gazing at the hero Adrian, admitted toherself that he was handsome, also that his appearance on the scene hadbeen opportune, not to say providential.

  Elsa Brant, the only child of that Hendrik Brant, the friend and cousinof Dirk van Goorl, who was already figured in this history, wasjust nineteen. Her eyes, and her hair which curled, were brown, hercomplexion was pale, suggesting delicacy of constitution, her mouthsmall, with a turn of humour about it, and her chin rather large andfirm. She was of middle height, if anything somewhat under it, with anexquisitely rounded and graceful figure and perfect hands. Lacking thestateliness of a Spanish beauty, and the coarse fulness of outline whichhas always been admired in the Netherlands, Elsa was still without doubta beautiful woman, though how much of her charm was owing to her bodilyattractions, and how much to her vivacious mien and to a certain stampof spirituality that was set upon her face in repose, and looked out ofher clear large eyes when she was thoughtful, it would not be easy todetermine. At any rate, her charms were sufficient to make a powerfulimpression upon Adrian, who, forgetting all about t
he Marchionessd'Ovanda, inspirer of sonnets, became enamoured of her then and there;partly for her own sake and partly because it was the right kind ofthing for a deliverer to do.

  But it cannot be said, however deep her feelings of gratitude, that Elsabecame enamoured of Adrian. Undoubtedly, as she had recognised, he washandsome, and she much admired the readiness and force with which he hadsmitten that singularly loathsome-looking individual who had dragged herfrom the mule. But as it chanced, standing where he did, the shadow ofhis face lay on the grass beside her. It was a faint shadow, for thelight faded, still it was there, and it fascinated her, for seen thusthe fine features became sinister and cruel, and their smile of courtesyand admiration was transformed into a most unpleasant sneer. A trivialaccident of light, no doubt, and foolish enough that Elsa should noticeit under such circumstances. But notice it she did, and what is more,so quickly are the minds of women turned this way or that, and soillogically do they draw a right conclusion from some pure freak ofchance, it raised her prejudice against him.

  "Oh! Senor," said Elsa, clasping her hands, "how can I thank youenough?"

  This speech was short and not original. Yet there were two things aboutit that Adrian noted with satisfaction; first, that it was uttered in asoft and most attractive voice, and secondly, that the speaker supposedhim to be a Spaniard of noble birth.

  "Do not thank me at all, gracious lady," he replied, making his lowestbow. "To put to flight two robber rogues and a woman was no great feat,although I had but this staff for weapon," he added, perhaps with a viewto impressing upon the maiden's mind that her assailants had been armedwhile he, the deliverer, was not.

  "Ah!" she answered, "I daresay that a brave knight like you thinksnothing of fighting several men at once, but when that wretch with thebig hands and the flat face caught hold of me I nearly died of fright.At the best of times I am a dreadful coward, and--no, I thank you,Senor, I can stand now and alone. See, here comes the Heer vanBroekhoven under whose escort I am travelling, and look, he is bleeding.Oh! worthy friend, are you hurt?"

  "Not much, Elsa," gasped the Heer, for he was still breathless withfright and exhaustion, "but that ruffian--may the hangman have him--gaveme a dig in the shoulder with his knife as he rose to run. However,"he added with satisfaction, "he got nothing from me, for I am an oldtraveller, and he never thought to look in my hat."

  "I wonder why they attacked us," said Elsa.

  The Heer van Broekhoven rubbed his head thoughtfully. "To rob us, Isuppose, for I heard the woman say, 'Here they are; look for the letteron the girl, Butcher.'"

  As he spoke Elsa's face turned grave, and Adrian saw her glance at theanimal she had been riding and slip her arm through its rein.

  "Worthy sir," went on Van Broekhoven, "tell us whom we have to thank."

  "I am Adrian, called Van Goorl," Adrian replied with dignity.

  "Van Goorl!" said the Heer. "Well, this is strange; Providence could nothave arranged it better. Listen, wife," he went on, addressing the stoutlady, who all this while had sat still upon the horse, so alarmed andbewildered that she could not speak, "here is a son of Dirk van Goorl,to whom we are charged to deliver Elsa."

  "Indeed," answered the good woman, recovering herself somewhat, "Ithought from the look of him that he was a Spanish nobleman. But whoeverhe is I am sure that we are all very much obliged to him, and if hecould show us the way out of this dreadful wood, which doubtless is fullof robbers, to the house of our kinsfolk, the Broekhovens of Leyden, Ishould be still more grateful."

  "Madam, you have only to accept my escort, and I assure you that youneed fear no more robbers. Might I in turn ask this lady's name?"

  "Certainly, young sir, she is Elsa Brant, the only child of HendrikBrant, the famous goldsmith of The Hague, but doubtless now that youknow her name you know all that also, for she must be some kind ofcousin to you. Husband, help Elsa on to her mule."

  "Let that be my duty," said Adrian, and, springing forward, he liftedElsa to the saddle gracefully enough. Then, taking her mule by thebridle, he walked onwards through the wood praying in his heart that theButcher and his companions would not find courage to attack them againbefore they were out of its depths.

  "Tell me, sir, are you Foy?" asked Elsa in a puzzled voice.

  "No," answered Adrian, shortly, "I am his brother."

  "Ah! that explains it. You see I was perplexed, for I remember Foy whenI was quite little; a beautiful boy, with blue eyes and yellow hair, whowas always very kind to me. Once he stopped at my father's house at TheHague with his father."

  "Indeed," said Adrian, "I am glad to hear that Foy was ever beautiful.I can only remember that he was very stupid, for I used to try to teachhim. At any rate, I am afraid you will not think him beautiful now--thatis, unless you admire young men who are almost as broad as they arelong."

  "Oh! Heer Adrian," she answered, laughing, "I am afraid that faultcan be found with most of us North Holland folk, and myself amongthe number. You see it is given to very few of us to be tall andnoble-looking like high-born Spaniards--not that I should wish toresemble any Spaniard, however lovely she might be," Elsa added, with aslight hardening of her voice and face. "But," she went on hurriedly,as though sorry that the remark had escaped her, "you, sir, and Foy arestrangely unlike to be brothers; is it not so?"

  "We are half-brothers," said Adrian looking straight before him; "wehave the same mother only; but please do not call me 'sir,' call me'cousin.'"

  "No, I cannot do that," she replied gaily, "for Foy's mother is norelation of mine. I think that I must call you 'Sir Prince,' for, yousee, you appeared at exactly the right time; just like the Prince in thefairy-tales, you know."

  Here was an opening not to be neglected by a young man of Adrian'sstamp.

  "Ah!" he said in a tender voice, and looking up at the lady with hisdark eyes, "that is a happy name indeed. I would ask no better lotthan to be your Prince, now and always charged to defend you from everydanger." (Here, it may be explained, that, however exaggerated hislanguage, Adrian honestly meant what he said, seeing that already he wasconvinced that to be the husband of the beautiful heiress of one of thewealthiest men in the Netherlands would be a very satisfactory walk inlife for a young man in his position.)

  "Oh! Sir Prince," broke in Elsa hurriedly, for her cavalier's ardour wassomewhat embarrassing, "you are telling the story wrong; the tale I meandid not go on like that at all. Don't you remember? The hero rescued thelady and handed her over--to--to--her father."

  "Of whom I think he came to claim her afterwards," replied Adrian withanother languishing glance, and a smile of conscious vanity at theneatness of his answer. Their glances met, and suddenly Adrian becameaware that Elsa's face had undergone a complete change. The piquante,half-amused smile had passed out of it; it was strained and hard and theeyes were frightened.

  "Oh! now I understand the shadow--how strange," she exclaimed in a newvoice.

  "What is the matter? What is strange?" he asked.

  "Oh!--only that your face reminded me so much of a man of whom I amterrified. No, no, I am foolish, it is nothing, those footpads haveupset me. Praise be to God that we are out of that dreadful wood! Look,neighbour Broekhoven, here is Leyden before us. Are not those red roofspretty in the twilight, and how big the churches seem. See, too, thereis water all round the walls; it must be a very strong town. I shouldthink that even the Spaniards could not take it, and oh! I am sure thatit would be a good thing if we might find a city which we were quite,quite certain the Spaniards could never take--all, all of us," and shesighed heavily.

  "If I were a Spanish general with a proper army," began Adrianpompously, "I would take Leyden easily enough. Only this afternoon Istudied its weak spots, and made a plan of attack which could scarcelyfail, seeing that the place would only be defended by a mob ofuntrained, half-armed burghers."

  Again that curious look returned into Elsa's eyes.

  "If you were a Spanish general," she said slowly. "How can you jestabout such a thing a
s the sacking of a town by Spaniards? Do you knowwhat it means? That is how they talk; I have heard them," and sheshuddered, then went on: "You are not a Spaniard, are you, sir, that youcan speak like that?" And without waiting for an answer Elsa urged hermule forward, leaving him a little behind.

  Presently as they passed through the Witte Poort, he was at her sideagain and chatting to her, but although she replied courteously enough,he felt that an invisible barrier had arisen between them. Yes, shehad read his secret heart; it was as though she had been a party to histhoughts when he stood by the bridge this afternoon designing plansfor the taking of Leyden, and half wishing that he might share in itscapture. She mistrusted him, and was half afraid of him, and Adrian knewthat it was so.

  Ten minutes' ride through the quiet town, for in those days of terrorand suspicion unless business took them abroad people did not frequentthe streets much after sundown, brought the party to the van Goorl'shouse in the Bree Straat. Here Adrian dismounted and tried to openthe door, only to find that it was locked and barred. This seemed toexasperate a temper already somewhat excited by the various events andexperiences of the day, and more especially by the change in Elsa'smanner; at any rate he used the knocker with unnecessary energy. Aftera while, with much turning of keys and drawing of bolts, the door wasopened, revealing Dirk, his stepfather, standing in the passage, candlein hand, while behind, as though to be ready for any emergency, loomedthe great stooping shape of Red Martin.

  "Is that you, Adrian?" asked Dirk in a voice at once testy and relieved."Then why did you not come to the side entrance instead of forcing us tounbar here?"

  "Because I bring you a guest," replied Adrian pointing to Elsa and hercompanions. "It did not occur to me that you would wish guests to besmuggled in by a back door as though--as though they were ministers ofour New Religion."

  The bow had been drawn at a venture but the shaft went home, for Dirkstarted and whispered: "Be silent, fool." Then he added aloud, "Guest!What guest?"

  "It is I, cousin Dirk, I, Elsa, Hendrik Brant's daughter," she said,sliding from her mule.

  "Elsa Brant!" ejaculated Dirk. "Why, how came you here?"

  "I will tell you presently," she answered; "I cannot talk in thestreet," and she touched her lips with her finger. "These are myfriends, the van Broekhovens, under whose escort I have travelled fromThe Hague. They wish to go on to the house of their relations, the otherBroekhovens, if some one will show them the way."

  Then followed greetings and brief explanations. After these theBroekhovens departed to the house of their relatives, under the care ofMartin, while, its saddle having been removed and carried into the houseat Elsa's express request, Adrian led the mule round to the stable.