Uncertain, I look at the vials. ‘How much do they cost?’
‘Ten stivers per vial, mistress. That’s not a lot for something that could save your life.’
‘Let’s buy one,’ says Anna, sounding scared.
‘Who says that the plague’s even going round? I haven’t heard anything about it.’ The fishmonger, with a cod in one hand and a filleting knife in the other, snorts, cuts the head off the fish and throws it to the ground.
A well-dressed man joins us. ‘It’s true,’ he says. ‘I trade with people in Antwerp and the sickness is raging there at the moment. In Breda and Den Bosch too, so it might well come further north.’
In the meantime, a large crowd has gathered, pressing in around the pedlar, and the merchant’s words are passed from person to person. A young woman with a child on her arm forces her way to the front and sticks out her hand. ‘I’ll take one of them bottles,’ she says.
The other people hesitate for a second but then one after another they open their purses and go up to the pedlar. I check to see if I’ve got ten stivers, Anna does the same. As I’m counting, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
‘Don’t be fooled, Catrin. No one has a cure for the plague, least of all this man.’ Johannes takes my arm and leads me away.
‘You don’t know that. He hasn’t been infected,’ I say, looking back at the press of people around the pedlar.
‘He’s probably been nowhere near Antwerp and only heard about the plague by word of mouth. If the best doctors haven’t been able to find a remedy, why would he have one? You can’t believe that.’
I drop the coins back into my purse with a sigh. ‘You’re right. Anna, put your money away.’
‘You’re frightened, everyone gets frightened by reports like that. And crooks like him know how to turn it to their advantage.’
‘Do you think the plague really is headed this way?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know. Maybe it is raging around the South, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s coming here. An epidemic that breaks out like that can disappear just as quickly.’
He leads me to a corner of the market square. ‘My new studio is near here. Do you want to see it?’
‘Yes, please,’ I say, glad of the distraction.
We walk along Voldersgracht and stop by a house with a stepped gable and a little arched gateway to one side. Johannes pushes open the door and leads us into the alley. Halfway up there’s a low door through which we enter. Anna stays standing shyly on the threshold, I go right in. The studio is a square room with high windows that let in a beautiful, muted light. In the centre of the room, there are two easels surrounded by tables covered in paint pots, brushes, scrapers and rags. Blank canvases line three walls, while the fourth is almost entirely taken up by a fireplace.
‘I can work here in winter too,’ says Johannes, nodding towards the hearth. ‘And the studio faces north, so hardly any sun gets in. It’s perfect.’
‘You’re right. What a wonderful space!’ I go over to the canvas on the easel. ‘You’re hard at work, I see.’
‘Yes. I’m going to call this canvas Christ in the House of Martha and Mary. It’s almost finished. What do you think?’
I take a step back. I don’t much care for religious subjects but this tableau of Jesus talking to two women has something homely and familiar. Only the vague aureola surrounding Jesus’ head betrays his divinity. The lively colours, the lifelike faces of the three people and their natural relationship with each other, which looks completely un-posed, gives the painting a power that leaves me holding my breath, transfixed.
‘It’s magnificent, Johannes. Truly magnificent.’
‘So you like it then?’ He nods with satisfaction, then studies me from head to toe. ‘There’s something different about you … Something to do with the way you’re holding yourself.’
I laugh, a little embarrassed. ‘You might well be right. I’m expecting. More than four months gone now.’
‘Really? That’s fantastic. Congratulations!’ He looks me over with a broad smile, then something in his expression changes. His smile vanishes and his eyes shine. ‘The way you’re standing there right now, in that pale light, with that yellow jacket, that’s how I’d like to paint you.’
I don’t know what to do with myself. Johannes scrutinises me intensely, as if he’s trying to ingrain something in his memory.
‘If only you could pose for me,’ he says, more to himself than to me.
I have no idea what to say, so I say nothing, transfixed in his gaze.
Then Johannes seems to come round with a jerk, as if from a daydream. ‘I’ve got it,’ he says, his eyes still on me. ‘I’ll remember.’
34
On the way home, Anna and I are unusually subdued. The plague dominates my thoughts. How is it possible that life is going on as normal, people are talking and laughing together, children are shrieking with pleasure as they chase after a cat, and the stallholders in the market are standing around cracking jokes as usual. You’d expect the plague to be the only topic of conversation.
Maybe it’s me who’s worrying too much, maybe because my pregnancy is making me more sensitive. Antwerp is far away, after all.
But I can’t help feeling nervous. As soon as I’m home, I go in search of Evert. He’s standing in the yard giving instructions about unloading a delivery of firewood. Once he’s paid the delivery man and the apprentices are carrying the wood inside, I tell him what I heard in the market.
‘The plague? Where?’ asks Evert.
‘In Antwerp, Breda and Den Bosch.’
‘I haven’t heard anything about that.’ Evert gestures to Klaas, who comes over to ask something, then turns back to me. ‘Don’t worry too much, darling. Even if that is the case, it doesn’t mean it’ll come to Delft.’
‘But it could.’ I put my hand on my belly, feeling like I could cry.
Evert looks at me, concerned, and walks off with a ‘Wait one moment.’ I see him talking to the wood merchant, who’s giving his horse a drink out of a bucket, before waving me over.
‘Tell my wife how things are in the South,’ he says as I approach.
The wood merchant nods reassuringly. ‘Nothing’s happening, mistress. This morning I spoke to someone from Den Bosch and I didn’t hear anything about the plague. I think that fellow on the market just wanted to make some money. You’ve only got to mention the word “plague” and the exchanges get flooded with so-called miracle cures.’
‘Someone else vouched for the truth of his story,’ I say, still not reassured. ‘A man in fine clothes said the plague had spread to Breda and Den Bosch.’
‘An accomplice,’ Evert says with a dark voice. ‘Characters like that never work alone. I’d lay money that they’re sitting in a tavern as we speak, counting their ill-gotten gains – wouldn’t you?’
With a nod of assent, the wood merchant climbs onto his cart and takes the reins. ‘And if it is true, we can’t do anything about it anyway,’ he says. ‘We’d be in God’s hands.’
Those words echo in my mind for the rest of the evening. The simple truth of them doesn’t make me feel any better. The plague is always raging somewhere; five years ago it was in Alkmaar, but De Rijp has been spared for a long time. So long that I’ve never been confronted with it. Which isn’t to say I have no concept of what it must be like to be hit by that dreadful disease. My grandparents and parents witnessed terrible epidemics. Everyone knows someone who died. The plague must be a terror. You can’t do anything for those who come down with the pneumonic plague, the plague in their lungs. High temperature combined with stabbing chest pains and worsening shortness of breath swiftly give way to unconsciousness, followed by death. The bubonic plague offers a slightly better chance of survival but puts you through hell for days. The first sign you’ve got the black death is a temperature, followed by fever, after which lumps come up in various places on your body. They grow into dark sores and then hard, pus-filled swellings called buboes. The
illness can last ten days. Only a small number of people survive this period. After that, the plague either disappears or attacks anew, with new buboes and heavy internal bleeding. No one survives the second stage.
For now, there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger. Because of our business, we speak to delivery men, ship’s captains and travelling sales people every day, and we always ask them about the plague. Reports from the South are contradictory. One says the number of deaths in Breda and Den Bosch is high, another says nothing’s going on. A third tells us there have been a few deaths but the plague hasn’t taken hold. It now seems that Antwerp is the last affected town and the disease is fading away.
‘You see, it’s dying out,’ says Evert, once the salesman who was visiting our shop has left. He puts an arm around my waist and kisses my neck. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’
In mid-July the blow comes. I hear the news buzzing around the poultry market between Choir Street and the Poel Bridge as I approach. The plague has hit Dordrecht and Gorinchem, and hard. Everyone is talking about it, there isn’t anyone who isn’t concerned. The town crier does the rounds, announcing that the city authorities are taking measures to prevent the plague from being brought to Delft.
I see Angelika standing holding hands with her daughters and go up to them. She turns to me with a white face. ‘Catrin, have you heard?’
‘Yes, but they’re taking measures. They’ll bar the gates.’
‘They say the plague is spread by poisonous fumes. How do they intend to stop them?’
‘I don’t know.’ I catch sight of Katherine and Gertrude, who are gazing up at us, terrified.
‘What is it, the plague?’ asks Gertrude timidly.
‘It’s a sickness,’ I say, ‘but it’s far off.’
‘How far?’
‘All the way over in Dordrecht.’
‘Then why is everyone so scared?’ Katherine looks around with interest.
‘We’re going,’ says Angelika. ‘I just need to drop by the apothecary’s. I’m sure they’ll have some kind of protective powder to take. You should get something too, before they run out.’
I nod and watch them go, the trusting girls holding their mother’s hand. Since my little conversation with Johannes, I no longer believe in those cures. What he said sounded logical: if they did help, the plague wouldn’t exist any more. Whether you die or not is in God’s hands.
My hand goes to my belly and I bite my lip.
No one knows how the plague spreads, but they do know it’s catching. Putting a stop to all the trade with the surrounding area and other towns is impossible – people need food. But there are stringent checks on those who seek to enter the city. There’s a suspicion that the plague vapours stick to skin, hair and clothing, and so itinerant pedlars, theatre companies, cart-drivers and ship’s captains are no longer welcome. Other travellers are subjected to close questioning and anyone who is coming from an area hit by the plague is told to turn right around.
Trade goes on as usual with the areas where there’s no plague, though this is risky too. Many merchants from the affected areas attempt to get in by taking a detour. The gatekeepers keep a close eye on how people look, but they can’t guarantee they won’t admit someone who’s been infected. Often the people themselves don’t know they’re ill.
In neighbouring cities, the checks are just as strict. Despite this, the plague has spread to Gouda and Rotterdam. The disease can’t get much closer to Delft than that.
‘Are you afraid?’ asks Jacob when we’re in the shop together.
I’m busy dusting the display pieces for the sake of the odd customer we still see. Jacob puts a crate of straw on the table and carefully places a large vase inside it, destined for a rich merchant in Amsterdam.
‘Yes, aren’t you? Everyone is afraid,’ I say. ‘This will be the last thing we can send. There’s a good chance it won’t even be allowed into Amsterdam.’
‘Nothing’s been sent back so far. There’s no plague here.’
‘No, not yet. But apparently it’s bad in Rotterdam, and that’s not far away.’
‘Schiedam is only a stone’s throw from Rotterdam and there’s nothing happening there. So you can’t say much based on that.’ He gives me a sidelong glance. ‘You’ve finally got everything on an even keel and the plague breaks out.’ We carry on working in silence. ‘You know, Catrin, I admire you,’ he says after a while. ‘I never thought you had it in you to take care of yourself so well. We’re really quite alike, you and I.’
I frown. ‘You think so?’
‘Absolutely. We both want a better life and are prepared to do what’s necessary to get it. To start with, all you had was a good job; now you’re married to the boss and carrying his child. I take my hat off to you!’
‘Just to be absolutely clear, I married Evert because I love him,’ I say coldly.
He snickers. ‘Undoubtedly. But the fact that he has a successful business didn’t hurt. And it did me good too. I hope the plague doesn’t ruin it all for us.’
35
That night I press myself to Evert’s side. It’s warm and we’re lying under sheets with the doors of the box bed open. Sleep escapes us.
‘I want you to leave here,’ he says out of the blue.
In the half-darkness I look up at him. ‘To run away, you mean?’
‘Yes. It’s getting too dangerous for my taste.’
‘The plague could pass Delft by. With all the measures the city authorities have taken, it definitely might.’
‘Every city takes measures, the same ones. It’s no guarantee. You could go to your family.’
I roll onto my back and stare at the planks above my head. Go home … Yes, I could do that. The plague is spreading much less rapidly in the countryside. And I would see my parents again and my brothers. The villagers too, but with the plague approaching they’ll have more on their minds than my return. Then I realise Evert is only talking about me.
‘And what about you? You’ll come too, won’t you?’
‘No, I’ve got a business to run. The number of orders has gone down since the plague came to the country. The commissions I do have are far too important to neglect.’
‘You can’t think I’d go alone? We’ll be safe in De Rijp and it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know my family. I’m not going without you.’
‘You have to,’ says Evert firmly. ‘Before it starts here too. I don’t want you or the little one to take any chances.’
‘I don’t want you to take any chances!’
He strokes my cheek. ‘It can’t be any other way, my love. In a couple of days, I’m sending a load of dishes to Den Helder by boat. Wout Kock is the skipper, you know him. You can travel with him as far as Alkmaar and go to De Rijp from there.’
I’m quiet for a second. ‘You’ve thought all this through already.’
‘Yes, and there’s nothing to discuss, Catrin. I really want you to go. I lost my wife and children once before, I can’t let it happen again.’
People who flee from the plague are not popular. They disrupt trade and public life, crippling the city before the sickness has even arrived. The city authorities put up signs trying to persuade the people of Delft they’re in no danger and that fleeing isn’t necessary.
So far, the people have listened, but the morning after my conversation with Evert, a rumour goes round about the first victims of the plague in Delft.
Panic breaks out immediately. Those who can afford to go head to houses outside the walls or to relatives in other cities. Most people stay.
‘There’s no sense in running,’ says Adelaide when we bump into each other. ‘God has long decided who will get sick and who won’t. Those who flee take their sins with them.’
‘If it’s already decided, why are the city authorities shutting the gates and passing all kinds of new laws? God has no pity for the foolish, He wants us to use the sense he gave us.’
‘He made the plague catching, a
nd He decides who gets it and who doesn’t. And whether you survive it. So we’re going to stay here. And you should too.’
I don’t answer, merely put a hand on my belly. Maybe I will take my sins with me and dying a miserable death is my just deserts, but my baby has got nothing to do with that. As soon as I get home, I rush straight upstairs to pack.
That afternoon and evening, I say goodbye to my friends. We give each other long hugs.
‘I hope the plague spreads no further north and you’re safe there,’ says Johannes.
‘You and your family should leave too.’
‘Maybe we will.’ We look at each other and smile, but without a hint of merriment.
During my last night at home, Evert and I make love for hours. With every caress and each kiss, I’m conscious of the fact that this could be the last time. Eventually we fall asleep and as the morning light enters through the shutters, I weep.
‘Don’t cry, my love. It’ll be all right.’ Evert tenderly wipes the tears from my face and kisses me.
‘Promise me you’ll leave at once if it gets bad here. Important orders or not.’
‘I promise. I do. I want to see you again and get to know my child.’
We get up and get dressed. Evert takes my bundle and we walk along the canal, where streaks of morning mist hang over the water. Wout is already there, he’s helping Klaas get the cargo on board.
I haven’t said goodbye to Jacob, but now suddenly find myself face to face with him. He doesn’t say anything but looks me right in the eye for a couple of seconds. ‘Watch out for Mart,’ he says finally, before turning and walking back into the shop.
‘Now then, you two should get going. It’s a long journey.’ Evert hands my things to Wout and pulls me into his arms.
Midnight Blue Page 17