The Queen's Bastard

by Robin Maxwell

  I was therefore unprepared for what I found within the dwelling of the Dutch commander. Twas a tent no better than the others, but guarded securely by half a dozen fierce faced men, three with muskets, three with halberds. From inside came a good deal of male laughter. I asked a guard to feed and water Beauty which he nodded with agreement to do. Then stepping thro the tent flaps I saw a plain soldiers place, no hangings, a dirt floor, wooden trestle and a basket filled with rolled parchment maps. A small fluffy dog lay sleeping on a narrow cot. Six men sat round the table drinking companionably but not heavily, and I could not at first make out the leader, for they seemed all equal in their good nature and dress and familiarity one with another. They did not mark my presence, and as I watched I soon came to know — thro their postures, the way they leaned in, their smiles turned all in one direction — which of them was William Prince of Orange. He seemed to me nothing less than a human magnet drawing in to him all his mens good will and loyalty.

  Finally I was seen standing at the tent door, and the room quieted. I began to speak in the Holland tongue, but William stood and saluted me saying “I’ll speak with you in English, which I seem to know better than you know Dutch.”

  He gestured for his men to make room for me at the table. This heedlessness of rank — allowing a mere messenger to sit at a table with a Prince and his Generals — so shocked me I was silent for some time, and I was sure my face must have given away my inner turmoil. Then a cup of beer and a plate of food were laid down before me and my confusion only grew, for I knew not whether to eat — I was ravenous, my own rations having given out the day before — or deliver my message. I began to speak, but the burly fairhaired officer next to me gestured for me to eat. So I did.

  The conversation surged on round me all in the Holland tongue and there was some of it I did miss, but I could make out that they were speaking of an alliance they wished to make with England, and how Elizabeth had, in her own way, begun to assist their causes with less than direct measures. Already some years ago she had, in her most audacious fashion, seized four Genoese ships carrying £85,000 bound for the Duke of Alva to pay his troops, and kept the money for her self. Now her pirates regularly burnt Philips merchantmen, and intercepted his gold laden ships sailing from the New World back to Spain. Suddenly I heard the name Leicester and pricked up my ears, straining to understand all that I could. I gathered they wished his assistance in helping England to openly declare herself for the Netherlands, that his influence with the Queen was so great that he was in deed their best hope.

  Several times when I chanced to look up from my plate I found the Princes eyes upon me. I chanced looks at him as well and saw a handsome, hard muscled man with a head that resembled a picture I had once seen — a statue of a Greek god. William had dark eyes and curly brown hair now streaked with silver. His manner was at once regal and altogether friendly. He was completely alert and engaged, and leaned forward into the group. He seemed to much enjoy this long earnest conversation. I wondered at these men together with their leader in this tent. One was a high Prince, perhaps the others noble too, but they were so marvellously plain … I had never in the English army seen this kind of purpose, strength in unity. They seemed to me a force of Nature as great as any whirlwind, any storm at sea.

  When he saw I had finished my meal William wasted no more time. First he paid me compliment for finding their encampment at all, with hopes that the Spaniards had no scouts as adept as my self. His English was good with only a trace of an accent. The timbre of his voice was warm, steady and reassuring, and I thought it perhaps his greatest strength. Then he asked for the message I had brought. When it was given and William had translated for his officers, there was silence all round, and several men scratched their head. Someone made a remark in Dutch which I did not understand and everyone laughed, all but William who was serious now. He seemed to be trying to form his thoughts before he spoke.

  “Private Southern,” he said. “Tell me, how many troops have been left to defend the city of Haarlem?”

  “Not many, Sir. One hundred infantry, fifty cavalry.”

  All laughter ceased now.

  “And should Haarlem be besieged while the English army is unnecessarily besieging the Spanish fort … ?”

  “Unnecessarily?” I asked.

  One of the other officers spoke up in rough English. “Your leaders are bored in der garrison. Dey haf no vish to sit quiet vaiting for battle, but demselfs go seeking it.”

  I swallowed and felt myself flush with embarrassment, knowing what this man said was all too correct. Here were true soldiers who knew the meaning of war, and not some trio of effete buffoons in their starched taffeta.

  “Dey put demselfs in needless danger, you see,” continued the officer. “Dis fort near Gouda is vell armed and provisioned, and English losses are sure to be great.”

  “I must go back with your message and warn them!” I said.

  William shook his head. “You do not understand. It makes no difference what I say. They will do what they will. You have said already they do not wish our assistance. And we have other pressing concerns.”

  “Sir,” I stammered, “my orders are to learn your future movements and report them back to my commander.”

  William was silent for a long moment in which he considered my request. He never took his eyes from my own, seeming to search for my souls understanding in them. Then he answered my question with a question.

  “Tell me, son, why do you think we in Holland are fighting this war?”

  “Well, I believe it is that you wish to be a Protestant country, as England is.”

  “Did you know,” he went on, “that I was raised a Catholic?”

  “Sir?” I said my jaw dropping open. “I do not understand. I thought …”

  “Do you know that here in the Low Countries, Calvinists have persecuted their Catholic countrymen as cruelly as the Spaniards have persecuted the Calvinists? Do you think a Catholic heretic dying over the coals of a slow fire suffers any less agony than a Protestant? Do you understand that the idea of tolerance embraces both sides of an issue equally?”

  I did not answer. Could not open my mouth to speak, but opened my ears and my mind, for I knew I was here learning the essence of something very great indeed.

  “I always believed in the Divine Right of Kings,” said William. “Throughout the first rebellion I supported the authority of Spain over the Netherlands Estates. I requested …” He smiled ironically. “Ja, ‘requested’ that Philip stop the Inquisition here. Told him that his interests required a peaceful, prosperous country which I hoped to deliver him. I believed my old friend would come to agree. Instead he called for Alva to bring him my head. Instructed him and his army of twenty-four thousand to rain terror and death down upon the Low Countries people.”

  William drank deeply from his cup and seemed to be recalling a painful memory. “I raised an army to resist — perhaps not the best, mercenaries you know — and some of my countrymen fought with us, but some broke under Spains strength. Some peasants worked for Alva and gave our positions away. Our money ran out and my soldiers, they struck for pay. Some went over to the other side, and we were forced to disband. I was banished from my homeland … but not beaten.”

  Suddenly the little dog jumped down from the Princes cot and leapt into its masters lap. William stroked it absently as he went on. “I went begging to other Protestant countries and raised yet another army. We were to be supported by a large contingent of French Huguenots, and we had crossed into the Netherlands once again, this time at the Rhine. We were gaining ground, taking back many cities from the Spaniards …” He stopped, looking pained. “And then came the Eve of Saint Bartholomew. Everything collapsed. We were routed from our camp headquarters. Many of my men died. The rest deserted. Two of my brothers were killed in a battle soon after. Nothing was left of my army but a few loyal officers …” He looked affectionately round the table, and I knew these were those men. “And of course my
dog,” he added, smiling a small smile. “Alva surged through, retook those towns we had claimed. Punished, brutally punished all those who had helped the resistance. Only the North, only Holland held fast to me and my cause.”

  William was quiet for a long time, but I remained respectfully silent and finally he spoke. “What we in the Low Countries know now is that it is not necessary to hope in order to undertake … nor to succeed in order to persevere. We are poor in resources, but we are strong, so strong in spirit. I have begun to call myself a Dutchman,” he said, looking round the table at his men, “and I have become a Calvinist.”

  Finally I ventured, “This army, your third, is it made all of Netherlanders?”

  “I shall always need to hire a few foreign soldiers, but all of the others are Dutch Protestants. I am very proud of my men, for they fight patiently and courageously for a cause they believe in. I have promised them that as long as I live there will be no religious persecution in Holland.”

  William must have seen the fire in my eyes lit by his passionate words.

  “Englishman, comrade, I see you are listening closely, but I want you to fully comprehend — I will never ever die at the stake for any religion, but I would die gladly so that tolerance for all religions be forever observed. Do you understand?”

  I nodded vigorously tho I felt utterly stupid in the presence of such a man. Banging his cup on the table he adjourned the meeting. His officers stood and with hearty goodnights disappeared from the tent. I too stood to go.

  “What is your first name, son?”

  As I answered him I searched his noble face and remembered what Moeder Hoogendorp had said about his eldest boy taken hostage by Alva, and living a prisoner in Spain. And, too, about the wife he had married for love.

  “Arthur Southern,” he said with what I imagined was some slight affection, “you will send my regards to your commander and give him our position.” He pulled a map from the basket and unrolled it onto the table. “I will show you where we are going …” Then he looked into my eyes and smiled. “But your captain should know that the plans for our movements may at any time change.”

  “I understand, Sir,” I said.

  As he walked with me to my horse he continued in a most friendly manner, as though I were his peer. “I fear your pampered commanders do not understand the will and the passion of the Duke of Alva and his professional soldiers. Like their King they believe they are fighting for God Himself. They hate our civilian ways, our wealth, the wordliness of our churches. They do not understand that we are merchants, and merchants make no distinction in whom they sell to. A Protestant or Catholic makes an equally good customer, you see. But Alva is mistaken in thinking we are soft, that he can tax us however he pleases. Now that Spain has ousted Jews and Moors from its lands and conquered the Turks, it feels it is invincible. Alva claims to have tamed men of iron, and boasts that he can easily tame the Netherlanders. ‘Men of butter,’ he calls us. Well, he will see …”

  The Princes attention returned to me. “Get a few hours sleep before you set out again.” He pierced me with those dark eyes as tho he could see something within me which was not apparent without. “Ride safe,” he said and turned and repaired to his tent.

  In that moment I knew there was nothing I would not have done for that man, that great Prince, who tho not my own by country was my own in heart and spirit. My education, which had truly begun at the urging of the Earl of Leicester, had taken a mighty turning at the table of William of Orange. I was grateful and vowed silently that this education would not be in vain.

  Six hours later I was again on the road, having slept like a dead man on a borrowed cot in a ragged tent. I had dreamt of my Father and Enfield Chase, but in my dream he had sometimes had the face of Prince William and even once the poacher I had released from capture. I had woken stiff muscled but refreshed, with a feeling of sweetness in my soul. Twas strange, I thought as I pulled on my boots, to have so pleasant an experience in the midst of war and squalor. I remembered another such waking on the morning after my meeting with the Queen and the Earl of Leicester. The pain of my injuries had been extreme, but my mind was light and buoyant as a cork bobbing on the surface of a pond.

  So we rode, Beauty strong and surefooted, I knowing my direction and destination, and having carried out my orders in all respects. I was feeling perhaps too confident, too full of myself for my senses to be at their clearest, for I quite suddenly found my nose twitching with a dangerous odor.

  Twas the smell of an army marching before me.

  Sure enough, the road was littered with fresh horse droppings. Faint but clear, the scent of human sweat and horse lather, the whiff of campfires which permeates every soldiers uniform. Now refuse — a bloodied bandage, a rind of cheese, even human waste where men had squatted quickly at the roadside and returned to their ranks.

  I halted Beauty, pulled out my map and saw from their direction of travel that these could not possibly be the reinforcements from Amsterdam. These were Spanish troops and they were on the road. The road to Gouda. I was still five hours ride from the fortress and my company. I did not know the enemys numbers, but I did know movement of any army across the Low Countries terrain was slow, with carts rumbling along at walking pace. There were many rivers, bogs and streams to ford. Tho the cavalry could move faster than the infantry, the whole of the body crawled along at the rate of its slowest component.

  I reckoned the rearmost troops could not be far ahead, no more than two miles, and counted my options, which were only two. I could avoid the army, making a great detour round them in which case I would lose time in getting to my destination. And the land on either side of the road was boggy and would provide very poor footing for Beauty. Else I could proceed on this road riding directly thro their midst, pretending to be a Dutchman friendly to their cause. This posed many obvious dangers, but its advantage was the straightest and quickest route to my company, giving them the most warning of the army which approached — and would in deed trap them tween their ambush and the fortress of Gouda.

  I chose the latter and spurred Beauty onward to my first encounter with the enemy. I would have to be both clever and lucky to succeed, but I knew this one failure would cost many English lives, perhaps the lives of my friends. I straightened in my saddle, glad that I was meeting this moment of destiny on horseback where I felt most confident.

  With the sound of a moving body of men growing louder and clearer, the rearmost regiment of the Spanish army came into view. I was surprised at the neatness of the final formation — a small unit of cavalry and a regiment of foot soldiers. There were no stragglers or laggards, which spoke of their high discipline, something I had heard much about. They were known to endure extreme hunger, thirst and heat. They were a proud lot even unto death. Cautious in combat. Skillful in skirmishes. Agile in climbing walls. Their infantry was more well thought of than their cavalry, but their horses were incomparable — ‘Sons of the Wind’ they were called. These were the men who in the Netherlands had swept all before them, and had twice smashed the armies of William of Orange.

  As I approached, and so as not to startle them, I called out in my most cheerful and, I hoped, most authentic Hollander accent. “Goeden Morgen!” I cried, nodded and smiled as I came abreast of the horse soldiers who none the less regarded me suspiciously. They apparently spoke no Dutch, and my pretense convinced them well enough to let me pass. They knew I must, of course, overtake their superiors who would, if they so chose, stop and interrogate me.

  To my dismay this was a long column, five companies strong of four hundred men each — cavalry with fresh, strong horses, an infantry of pikemen, arquebusiers, and musketeers. There were sixteen large cannon, gun carriages and trunions used to elevate guns, carts hauling small loads of metal cannonballs. This last told me the army had been out besieging, and might well have depleted stores of artillery. I saw pieces of a pontoon bridge carried on the backs of mules which could easily be fitted together to cross a mo
at, and a large contingent of priests who walked silently, hands folded within the sleeves of their robes. I counted carefully and committed to memory what I saw, for my report must be accurate and full.

  As I passed by the endless train I worried that they were in deed the troops normally garrisoned at Gouda. If so, how many of them remained inside the fortress to defend it? The number could be small. In that case the English siege might be going well and a sense of confidence engendered — a false confidence, my commanders never knowing what was stalking their backs. I cursed Lord Holcomb for endangering his troops in his naivete and poor intelligence, and kept riding, eyes straight ahead, occasionally turning with a broad grin and greeting to the Spaniards.

  By the great feathered helmets and bright colored finery up ahead, I could see I approached the commanders of this regiment, tho I did never know if this was the murderous Alva himself, or another of his armies. My mind raced with my story which I was prepared to deliver, part in Dutch, part in halting Spanish, hoping to convince my interrogators that I was a Dutch merchant on my way home to Woerden, several miles closer than Gouda, and that I wished them well. I prayed their scouts had not yet reached Gouda to find the English attack in progress, which would make my claim of being an innocent a short lived joke, and my life as a spy similarly abbreviated.

  But luck was with me. As I came abreast of the two commanders I found them involved in so heated an exchange that they did not remark me, and those men who did see me must have assumed I had been granted leave to pass from those behind them. Such was the ignorance and inefficiency of all great bodies of men, and I was overjoyed to use it thus to my advantage.