"For freedom, faith and country!" cried Leatherface loudly.
"For freedom, faith and country," came from two thousand pantingthroats.
"As to our plan of campaign," now resumed the man with the mask as soonas silence and calm was restored once more, "I have not yet had the timeto think on all the details soberly. But the main outline of it wasdictated to me by the Prince of Orange even whilst we halted atWondelghem, waiting for horses. He is the finest military strategistthe world hath ever known, misfortune hath pursued him, but hath notimpaired his marvellous powers of command. I will ask some of you,seigniors, to aid me with your counsels, and with the directions whichHis Highness hath given me we may yet give such a fine account ofourselves as will force our tyrants to treat with us for peace. Thereare only two thousand of us now; by to-morrow we can reckon on severalthousands more; but of a certainty at the first clash of arms all ouryoung and able-bodied fellow-citizens will take heart and join us in ourdesperate struggle, and may God help us all!"
There is no doubt that he had enflamed the blood of his hearers; by thedim light of the tallow candles every face now looked flushed, everypair of eyes glowed with the noble fire of patriotism and of courage.Leatherface waited for a time in silence while whispered conversationand discussion became general. He did not join in it himself, but stoodsomewhat apart from the others, the cynosure of all eyes, a strange,almost mysterious figure in his tightly-fitting clothes which gave fullplay to the powerful muscles of arms and thighs and displayed the greatbreadth of shoulder and depth of chest. Many there were who still eyedhim curiously; Laurence van Rycke in particular did not take his eyesoff him, but no one thought of challenging him again to unmask. Whatmattered what the face was like, when the heart was so great and fine?
IV
After a few minutes the man with the mask once more advanced to the edgeof the platform. There was still something that he wished to say.
"We must not forget, seigniors," he began very quietly, "that the tyranthath given us a respite of forty-eight hours before he will embark onhis hellish work of destruction. He hath demanded the person of thePrince of Orange as the price of his mercy. Well, seigniors, thePrince, thank God, is no longer here; but it is just possible that wemay bribe the wild beast yet into satisfaction by giving him some of theblood for which he thirsts, and thus save our beautiful city from allthe horrors which he hath in contemplation against her."
"And how wilt do that, friend?" sighed, Messire van Overbequedespondently.
"With your permission I will explain," rejoined the other. "I proposethat anon in the early morning a certain number of you seek out the Dukeof Alva in Het Spanjaard's Kasteel and tell him that the Prince ofOrange--aided by his humble watchdog--did succeed in evading once againthe trap which had been set for him; but," he continued with slow anddeliberate emphasis, "that you are prepared to deliver into his handsthe person of the man Leatherface, since you happen to know hiswhereabouts in the city."
For a moment he could not continue, loud and vehement protestationsagainst this monstrous proposal arose from every side.
"I entreat you, seigniors, to remember," he continued with deepearnestness as soon as the tumult had subsided, "that a certain amountof mystery hath hung--not through mine own seeking, believe me--aroundmy person. Next to our Prince himself, there are few in thisunfortunate country whose death would be more welcome to our Spanishtyrants than that of the miscreant Leatherface; and my belief is that ifyou offered to give him up to the Lieutenant-Governor you might obtainfrom that cruel despot a small measure of mercy for our city."
He had long since finished speaking, but now there were no longer anyprotestations or murmurs; an awesome silence hung about the vaultedroom. No one had stirred; no one spoke; not one man dared to look hisneighbour in the face. Every man stared straight before him at thatslim figure, which suddenly appeared to them all, to be unearthly as itstood there, beneath the canopy, like the very personification of simpleself-sacrifice, offering up his life so willingly, and above all, socheerfully to save his fellow-men.
In these days of cruel oppression and of sublime virtues, such an act ofabnegation was probably not rare; men were accustomed to suffer deathand worse for an ideal, and for the sake of others who were weaker thanthemselves; but there was something so engaging, so light-hearted inthat stranger there that every man who heard him felt that bysacrificing such a man he would be sending a brother, a son, or dearfriend to the gallows.
"Well, seigniors," said Leatherface, "I still await your decision."
"You speak glibly, friend," murmured the Procurator-General sombrely,"but if the tyrant hath you in his power, it will not only mean deathfor you, remember, it will not mean the axe or the gallows, it will meanthe torture-chamber of the Inquisition first and the stake afterwards."
"I know that," retorted the other simply. "Better men than I have gonethrough it all for faith and freedom. I am young, 'tis true--but I haveno ties of interest or affection that bind me to this earth. Few menwill go to their Maker so little regretted by kith or kin as I shall be.So I pray you do not think of me. Rather turn your thoughts, I entreat,to the details of the plan, the composition of the deputation that wouldbe prepared to meet the Duke of Alva to-morrow. Those posts, too, willbe full of danger, and the negotiations, too, might fail--what is thelife of one man worth when weighed in the balance with an entire city?"
"And which of us would you entrust with the abominable errand?" queriedLaurence van Rycke abruptly.
"Not you, of a certainty," said the other. "Your mother will have needof comfort and protection, since she refused to place herself in safety.Messire the Procurator-General should, I think, lead the deputation, hehath never been suspected of heresy or rebellion, and the proposal wouldthus come quite naturally from him; if Messire van Overbeque will joinhim and you, Seigneur van Groobendock, meseems that we could not choosebetter."
"Nay! I cannot do it," interposed the Vice-Bailiff vehemently. "Iwould sooner cut off my right hand now."
"Would you sooner sacrifice this city, all the women and children, yourown wife, Messire, and daughters, rather than one man whose identity youneed never know?"
It was indeed a terrible puzzle, one which even these brave men found ithard to solve.
"I entreat you, seigniors," continued Leatherface earnestly, "to do whatI ask. Nay!" he added resolutely, "I'll do more. Just now you chose meas your leader. Then I command you to act in accordance with my will."
"You are quite determined, then?" asked the Vice-Bailiff.
"Would you counsel me to waver?" retorted the other. "Ah, seigniors!" headded, with that ringing note in his voice which was so inspiring tothem all, "I entreat you do not grieve for me. Rather grieve foryourselves and gather courage for your errand. So help me God, yourswill be no easy task. You will have to fawn and to cringe before thetyrant whom you hate. You will have to bear his arrogance and theinsolence of his menials. You will have to swallow your wrath and tobend your pride. Your sacrifice indeed will be far harder to make thanmine. I only offer mine own unworthy life; you will offer up to-morrowyour dignity, your manhood, all that you and your fathers hold so dear.Nay! I would not change places with you for ten such worthless lives asmine. See, what a coward I am--I send you to do this abominable errand,while I sit at home in comfort and dream of the happiness of giving mylife for Ghent and for her children!"
"God help us all!" murmured Messire Deynoot, the Procurator-General.
"Indeed, He alone can do that," rejoined Leatherface, "for grave fearsassail me that our proposal will be rejected; is it likely that it wouldappeal to such a blood-thirsty tyrant as the Duke of Alva? My onehope--and that alas! is a slender one--is that he hath it not in hismind to destroy our beautiful city, and might be glad of an excuse ofexercising mercy."
A groan of execration greeted this suggestion. Was it likely that anythought of mercy could ever enter the mind of such a man?--more
cruelthan any beast of prey, for he killed for the mere sake of killing,inflicted inhuman tortures on innocent victims for the sake of gloatingover their sufferings, and rejoiced in bloodshed and outrage anddesecration for their own sakes, without any thought of benefitinghimself.
"Then if these negotiations fail, seigniors," concluded Leatherfacefinally, "nothing will be left for us but a bitter struggle which mayend in defeat, but which will leave us proud and unconquered still."
"Amen to that," said the Procurator-General fervently.
"Then let us go quietly to our homes to-night. Let us keep from thosewho are weak and anxious all knowledge of that which we have resolved;let our women pray while we prepare to act. Flemish women have heartsof steel; they will not waver when the hour comes. They will help uswith their prayers now, and load our arquebuses for us when we needthem. For them we will fight and for our children, and if defeat staresus in the face at the last, then will we save them by one supreme actfrom falling into the hands of the tyrant. Until then and after,seigniors, allow me to keep this mask upon my face. When you go to meetthe Duke of Alva to-morrow, you will offer him a paltry chattel, a manwhom you do not know, who hath no name, no identity, the spy of thePrince of Orange--just him whom you call Leatherface."
"God reward you," they murmured fervently.
"Perhaps He will," whispered the man with the mask, under his breath,"and with a speedy death!"
"And now," he added, "as the hour is late, let us disperse. To-morrow,here, and at this hour, we meet again. Messire Deynoot will give you areport of his audience with the tyrant, and I may be lucky enough to beallowed to give my life for this city which I love. Farewell,seigniors, may God guard you until then. If Alva will have none of me,then I will have the honour of leading you--to victory, I hope--to deathif God wills!"
One by one they rose from the benches where they had been sitting, andall took what they believed to be a last farewell of that strange manwhose identity was still unknown to them, yet whom they had all learnedto love as a leader and as a friend. Indeed, their noble hearts weretorn asunder by the awful alternative which he himself had placed forthem. It was a case of grim determination, of smothering every call ofSentiment which might prove insistent against thus sacrificing a braveman to the cruel lust of an abominable tyrant. It had to be, and thesemen were fine and great enough in themselves to understand that inoffering up his life to save his fellow-citizens, Leatherface hadcertainly chosen the better part.
And having looked their last on him, they went out through the posterngate of the convent of St. Agneten in groups of twos and threes. Theycrossed the two bridges that span the Leye at this point. The night wasdark, and this was an isolated part of the city, situate far from theStadthuis and the Kouter. From the St. Baafs and St. Nikolas quartersof the city came faintly echoing across the river the sound of riotousmerriment proceeding from those buildings and houses wherein the Walloonsoldiery had installed themselves. But the men who had just pledgedthemselves to fight a losing battle against overwhelming odds paid noheed to what went on around them. They glided noiselessly through thedark and narrow streets; some went to right, some to left, some to northand others to south, and quietly regained their homes.
V
But in the vast refectory two men had remained behind after every oneelse had gone: they were the man with the mask, and Laurence van Rycke.
The latter had waited in silence whilst the whole of the assembly filedout by the door, but when Leatherface in his turn prepared to go,Laurence threw him such a look of appeal, that after an instant'shesitation, he too decided to wait.
Then when the last of the assembly had gone, Laurence tried to speak,but the words died in his throat ere they reached his quivering lips.There was still that look of mute appeal in his eyes, and of well-nighunendurable mental torment in every line of his haggard face, andsuddenly he gave a cry like some wounded creature in mortal pain; hefell on his knees against the table, and burying his face in his hands,he sobbed like a child. The other waited patiently and silently untilthe paroxysm was over: his mouth beneath the mask looked set but kindly,and his eyes through the holes in the leather were fixed upon thestricken man.
"She is safe from the vengeance of our people," he said, as soon as hesaw that Laurence had momentarily regained his self-control. "Is thatwhat troubles you, Messire?"
Laurence--already ashamed of his tears--had struggled to his feet. Hepassed his hand across his moist forehead and through his unruly hair,and tried to look Leatherface valiantly between the eyes.
"Partly that," he said resolutely. "But I'll not speak of her. It wasshe then who betrayed us all?" he added with another heartbroken cry.
To this Leatherface made no answer, and Laurence continued more calmly:
"It was of the lists I wish to speak. The papers which His Highnessentrusted to my care."
"Yes?"
"I went to look for them after ... after she left the house, and foundthat they had gone."
"Then what did you do?"
"I knew that we were betrayed ... then ... there ... at once ... and byher ... an exquisite woman, Messire, whom I ... Oh! it was horrible!" heexclaimed, and even now a look that was almost like death came over hiswan cheeks and hollow eyes.
Then once more he resumed quietly: "For a few moments the blow of thisawful discovery completely stunned me. I could neither think nor act.My first coherent thought was to consult with my mother as to what hadbest be done. How to find His Highness until evening I knew not, or howto obtain duplicate lists, so that I could run round the town and warnall our followers of the terrible danger that threatened them."
"You did not think of flight? ... for your mother, I mean?..."
"I entreated my mother to leave the city at once, but she refused to go,and we were standing face to face with one another and the terriblecalamity that had befallen us all when Pierre came in with a letter,which--he said--was given to him in the open street by a man whom he didnot know. The letter, I take it, came from you."
"Yes," replied the other, "I was afraid that you might do somethingrash, and raise the alarm before it was necessary. The lists," headded, "are quite safe. I was able after His Highness left theHigh-Bailiff's house last night to extract them from the bureau, where Idid not feel that they were over safe; in their place I put a packetcontaining fictitious lists of men who do not exist, and places of abodewhich are not to be found in this city. It is these which have beensent to senor de Vargas. I had just time to scribble these and to placethem in a conspicuous place in the bureau."
"You used a false key then?" queried Laurence in bewilderment.
"Am I not a spy of the Prince of Orange?" retorted the other with aquaint little laugh, "and are not all spies provided with means offorcing secret locks? Here are the lists," he added, as from inside hisdoublet he half drew the packets of papers. "When you are called toaccount for them, you can return them without fear. No one will knowthat they ever left your care ... that is, if you have not spoken of itbefore now...."
"No. I had not the heart. We all knew that we were betrayed. Youwarned us all and took measures to convene us here to-night; but untilthe hour when your letter warned me that for the moment all was well, Iendured mental torments such as surely the lost souls in hell have neversuffered. I saw those lists in the hands of our tyrants--placed thereby the instrumentality of a woman who is to me the embodiment of allthat is pure and good; I saw--in my mind--the spies of Alva going theround, this very night, and arresting our brave followers one by one ...Oh God! you do not know what I suffered...."
"Do not think of that any more, Messire," rejoined Leatherface quietly."As you see, the lists are now safe in my care. Alas! it is too late tobeg you to take your mother out of the city. Guard and protect her welland God help us all."
He once more now prepared to go, and Laurence was ready to follow him,but just at the last an impulse caused the latter to detain the
mysterious stranger once more. There was still one question whichhovered on his lips, the answer to which would perhaps ease that awfulburden of sorrow which Lenora's betrayal had placed upon his soul:
"Messire," he said appealingly, "what of her?"
"Pray for her, Messire," replied Leatherface quietly, "she suffers morethan you do."
"Must we all curse her then? or else be traitors to our own people."
"Nay! you can pity her! What she did, she did from her own sense ofpatriotism and of justice. She hates us all, Messire, as the enemies ofher people. She hates and despises me as the assassin of the man sheloved. Pray for her, Messire, but in pity pray also for the man whowhilst striving to win her heart, only succeeded in breaking his own."
VI
An hour later in the house in the Nieuwstraat, Clemence van Rycke wasstill awake. She sat in her favourite tall chair beside the hearth, andLaurence her son was kneeling beside her.
"It is too late now, mother," he was saying gloomily. "No power on earthcan save you. Would to God you had let me take you to Bruegge thisafternoon."
"And desert my post like a coward," retorted Clemence hotly. "I can dolittle, 'tis true; but when the hour comes I can tend the sick and thedying, and pray for the dead; and if you are taken from me, Laurence, Ican be laid beside you.... But," she added, with such an intensity ofbitterness and hatred that her voice nearly choked her as she spoke, "Iwould not owe my safety to that execrable traitress..."
"Hush, mother, in the name of Heaven..." broke in Laurence with aheart-broken sob.
Leatherface: A Tale of Old Flanders Page 22
