by Graham Brack
As I expected, Professor Voet insisted that I should stay at his house. He seemed a little stronger than when we had last met, and stood to greet me, walking a little towards me whilst leaning on the table for support.
I presented the Stadhouder’s compliments and told Voet that the Stadhouder would be very pleased to have the help and support of his grandson and Van Leusden.
‘I am very grateful for the Stadhouder for his continued confidence in my family,’ Voet declared. ‘Let us drink a toast to him together.’ He tottered to the sideboard and poured us each a small glass of wine. ‘To the Stadhouder and the House of Orange!’ he proclaimed, and I repeated it with, perhaps, a little less fervour; not that I held any brief for the opposing faction, but those were days when avoiding alignment with either side seemed prudent. ‘How do matters stand in Leiden?’ Voet asked.
This took me by surprise and I was unsure how to answer. I did not want to mislead the old man, nor to alarm him. If the De Witt faction were bold enough to murder the Stadhouder’s man in Leiden, who was to say that they would not do the same in Utrecht?
But if there was danger, it seemed to me that Voet had a right to know.
‘I regret that one of the Stadhouder’s servants in Leiden has been foully murdered since we last spoke,’ I replied.
‘Murdered? Dear me! By whom?’
‘I do not know as yet. I am sure that I can trust in your discretion when I explain that the man was sent by the Stadhouder to root out adherents to the opposition. It seems that he was on their trail when they arranged his death.’
‘Poison?’
‘No, Professor. He was struck on the head and pushed downstairs.’
‘Stairs are dangerous places,’ Voet murmured. ‘The first Stadhouder died on a flight of stairs.’
Whilst undoubtedly true, the death of William of Nassau was due to his being shot at close quarters, and it can hardly be said that the stairs played a major role in his death. A man has to lie somewhere to die.
‘It seems that this man had discovered a cell of five but did not know all their names. A diagram he left suggests that there was a captain, a lieutenant and three others. But then there was another diagram that seemed to show six conspirators, four shown as stars and two as crosses. Is one a later reworking of the other? Or, Heaven forbid, are there two such groups of villains in Leiden?’
‘They are everywhere, Master. These are perilous times.’
‘But you have none in Utrecht, Professor?’
For once, the Professor was not disposed to display excessive confidence. ‘I will never say that there cannot be such conspiracies, but I have many pairs of eyes and ears at work and they report nothing to me. And you will permit me to remind you that, unlike Leiden, Utrecht was occupied by the French until very recently. The man responsible for our liberation therefore enjoys overwhelming support.’
It was rather hyperbolic to describe William as their liberator, because the French had actually pulled out of Utrecht before he got there. The flooding of the old waterline stopped their advance and a Dutch army threatened to advance into Germany and cut the French forces off, so they retreated; but I suppose in loose terms William had something to do with it and he was certainly not a man to refuse a laurel that was offered to him.
‘Nevertheless,’ Voet continued, ‘by your leave I will ask my grandson and Van Leusden to join us here for supper this evening and we can discuss your information and decide upon our next steps.’
‘Gladly,’ I answered. ‘I would much rather stifle an insurrection before it is born that try to round up the ringleaders afterwards, particularly as I have no powers to arrest anyone.’
‘A small nicety,’ sniffed Voet. ‘If a man needs arresting, let me know and I’ll get the Mayor to send the constables for him.’
Most Dutch cities have a Civic Guard to assist in their defence, consisting of local gentlemen and volunteers, but often with one or two professional soldiers to drill them. These full-time employees frequently double as Sergeants-at-arms for the Mayor and act as a police force, assisted in larger cities by a few constables. Unlike cities like Delft where the Civic Guard delighted in marching around the place, their Utrecht brethren seemed rather more subdued and I had seen no sign of them, but Voet clearly had confidence in their abilities.
There is a large painting by Rembrandt van Rijn that hangs in Amsterdam to this day showing a similar company of militia, and a more inveterate bunch of dandies and show-offs would be hard to imagine.
I do not think that it would have crossed Gijsbert Voet’s mind that his grandson and Van Leusden might be otherwise engaged that evening, but his maid returned with the news that while his grandson would be delighted to wait upon us, Van Leusden was away from home and not expected back until late; however, “late” would mean around sunset, because few men would venture outside the city after dark by choice, so there was a good chance that he would be able to join us eventually.
It remained a glorious summer’s day, and Gijsbert Voet suggested that we might sit for a while under a nearby tree to enjoy the warm sun, not to mention a bowl of freshly picked strawberries. It was here that his grandson Johannes found us.
I find the idea of a young man bowing to his grandfather rather formal, but I think Gijsbert Voet expected it of Johannes, who removed his hat and performed an elegant sweeping bow.
‘Sit ye down,’ said the old man, ‘and the Master will tell you what has been happening in Leiden. It shows the need for vigilance, for our enemy walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’
‘The fifth chapter of the first epistle of St Peter,’ replied Johannes.
‘Very good,’ responded Gijsbert. ‘We will make a churchman of you yet.’
I was only glad that he had not thrown the quotation at me. I recognised it, of course; it is from the passage that begins “Be sober, be vigilant”, but I was a little vague about exactly where it was to be found.
Johannes sat and raised an eyebrow at me, whereupon I launched into an account such as I have set out in these pages.
When I finished, he sat stroking his chin in thought for a few moments. ‘Such a shame! This Van Looy played a long game, I think. A lesser man would have had the small fry taken and lived on into old age. Instead he pitted his wits against theirs and paid a great price.’
‘You think they moved against him because he was about to expose them?’
‘What other construction can be put on events? He operates in safety for some months, then, when he is close to success, his enemies murder him.’
We sat in silence a short while, each of us lamenting that Van Looy had paid so dearly for an error of judgement; then the old man spoke quietly. ‘When he is close to success indeed, but how did they know that?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow,’ I said.
‘Killing Van Looy is a desperate act. Until then, they might have hoped to escape notice while their plans mature, but now the existence of the traitorous cell is known. They would only have done this if they felt that they had no alternative, that their discovery was imminent; so, I repeat, how did they know that?’
Johannes sprang to his feet and began pacing the garden, muttering as he went. It was clear that this line of thought excited him.
I was still struggling with the implications of this notion. I realise that this makes me look like a dullard, but I beg the reader to remember that I was sitting with two of the greatest minds the Netherlands has ever produced, so coming a distant third in such company is not so bad.
‘Either Van Looy made a mistake and disclosed himself to them,’ Johannes declared, ‘or there is someone trusted by the Stadhouder who was able to tell them how matters stood.’
Gijsbert looked alarmed. ‘A duplicitous scoundrel so close to the Stadhouder! Surely it is unthinkable. We must get word to him at once.’
Johannes spread his arms as if helpless. ‘What can we tell him? We have no idea who it might be, or even which of the two alternatives that
I suggested is the correct one. For all we know Van Looy may have summoned a plotter to his room, confronted him and been struck down.’
‘That’s true,’ confessed Gijsbert. ‘We can hardly tell the Stadhouder that someone in The Hague does not like him. He already knows that.’
The evening proved to be subdued thereafter. All of us were preoccupied with the question of how we might best ensure the Stadhouder’s safety against an unknown threat. I described the time when I overheard Van Kamerik arguing with Van Looy, thinking that it showed that Van Kamerik’s instincts, to round up the villains, were correct.
‘If you overheard them, others may have done so,’ remarked Gijsbert.
‘I saw no-one else,’ I answered.
‘But did you really look?’ asked Johannes. ‘With respect, your attention was focussed on the unknown man with Van Looy.’
He had a point there.
‘And why do you discount the possibility that Van Kamerik was himself responsible for the death of Van Looy?’ added Gijsbert.
‘Well, because his master is the Heer van Zuylestein, who is scrupulously loyal to the House of Orange.’
‘Indeed he is,’ replied Gijsbert, ‘but he would not be the first man to have been deceived by one in whom he had placed his trust. Even Our Lord had his Judas.’
The difficulty with the particular example is, of course, that Our Lord, being one with God, shared in his omniscience and must therefore have known that Judas was going to betray him. Except, of course, that Judas had free will, otherwise he would have been acting under compulsion and would not have been subject to reproach for his actions, so if he had free will he could have avoided the betrayal. And here I must add that as a Calvinist I can see that Judas’ free will is not incompatible with Jesus’ foreknowledge of the choice that Judas would make; whereas the Catholic in me can see the necessity for Jesus’ passion and therefore for his betrayal without which his purpose could not be achieved. But this was not the time to pursue these arguments.
We sat down to dine, still without any sign of Van Leusden, who finally appeared shortly before sunset, perhaps around nine o’clock. It was too late then to begin any lengthy discussion, for the professor was tiring, so we drank a glass together and agreed to meet again at six in the evening on Wednesday, the earliest time when all four of us were free of other commitments. If only one or other of us had changed our appointments, who knows how differently this story would have worked out?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tuesday was another very warm day. Leiden, being nearer the coast and having many waterways, is often cooler than cities such as Utrecht which lack both of these features, and since Voet’s house was close to the Dom Square, where there was little shelter from the sun, I passed a relatively uncomfortable day going back and forth between offices and explaining my report to the Senate of the University.
The Senate, being composed of intelligent men, quickly grasped that the Stadhouder’s plan would give them something of a pay rise and were therefore in high spirits. The substance of my report having been leaked to them in advance by Professor Voet, they had resolved to feast me well at a banquet.
It took the gloss off the event a little to hear that they liked to find an excuse for these two or three times a year and would probably have thrown one to celebrate the end of the month of July if I had not been coming, but a convivial evening was had by us all. I am delighted to record that speeches were kept to a minimum, that no clergyman was permitted to deliver a sermon and that the burghers of Utrecht had a lutenist considerably more talented than Beniamino who played while we ate.
All in all it was a wonderful evening, and my resolve to see if there were any vacancies for teachers of moral philosophy was strengthened. There would, no doubt, be periods of prayer and fasting, but they are much more tolerable when one knows that nights like this will soon come along, especially if Albrecht is not involved in doing any of the cooking.
The centrepiece of the table was a pig’s head with an apple in its mouth. The pig appeared to be smiling, as if to say that it was a privilege to be slaughtered and cooked for our pleasure. I drank rather more than was good for me, and found myself compelled to keep silent so as not to illustrate the fact by slurred speech or inopportune comments, but when the evening ended and we walked to our homes or lodgings, I was suffused with bonhomie and a general feeling that all was right with the world. This was not quite how I felt upon waking in the morning.
I knew of two paths to the Professor’s house. I might have returned to the Dom Square and passed round two sides of the Dom to the street where he lived. It was not too long, but I had feasted rather well and was beginning to feel tired, so I chose the shorter route, which took me through a narrow passage and then along Achter de Dom.
I will remind the reader that I had drunk rather more excellent Rhenish wine than I was used to, but as I left the banquet I had the impression that I was being followed. I looked around, but saw nothing, though it was rather dark in the alleyway; thus I walked on, and the sense of being observed stayed with me.
I stopped abruptly, and heard one more step on the cobbles, but turning once more, the only person I could see was a man standing by one of the walls with his back to me. He had one arm stretched out against the brickwork so that his cloak formed a screen that prevented me seeing the woman he was undoubtedly propositioning, because I heard him speak in a low voice and she giggled in reply. I had, it seems, been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I had failed to notice them as I passed by; but then, perhaps, they were taking care not to be noticed.
I thought of Janneke van Leusden and wished I had the liberty to walk with her that evening, though, of course, we could not have done so with propriety without a chaperone or a wedding ring. I did not care for the first, but the second appealed to me, and I went to my bed with happy dreams of what might be.
Gijsbert Voet was an early riser, so the household timetable was set to accommodate that, with the result that my shaving water arrived at some unearthly hour when even the birds in the trees were catching a little more sleep. I could see from the chamber window that it was another beautiful day. This fine weather cannot last, I thought.
I was sitting at breakfast when the door opened and an elderly lady walked in. From her mode of dress and her general air of superiority I guessed that this must be the professor’s wife, so I sprang to my feet, banging my knee on the edge of the table as I did so.
‘Are you one of my husband’s students?’ she enquired.
‘No, mevrouw, I am Master Mercurius of the University of Leiden,’ I replied, inclining my head politely.
‘Ah, the Stadhouder’s errand boy! I have been hoping to meet you,’ she continued.
You had only to come downstairs and you would have done so, I thought, so I deduced that the desire to make my acquaintance was not quite as strong as she hinted.
I could have bridled at her description of me, but I decided to rise above that and simply asked her how I might be of service.
‘Well, sit down and eat your breakfast, Master. I hope the Stadhouder has been mindful of my husband’s exertions on his behalf — though I suppose you’ll be sworn to secrecy on your mission.’
She bowed her head to mumble a prayer, so I waited until she had finished before speaking.
‘On the contrary, mevrouw, I think I can safely say that the Stadhouder would wish it to be known that he has every reason to be grateful to the professor and has sent me to consult with him on lightening his load.’
‘Good luck with that!’ said the old lady. ‘He’ll die in harness. It is his conception of duty. His legs won’t let him stand to preach any longer, but his mind remains sharp and he still writes his sermons, even if he cannot deliver them.’
‘There is no desire to supplant him, mevrouw, but to consult with him on the appointment of assistants. I may say that we have identified two: your grandson Johannes, and a man named Van Leusden.’
The old lady pause
d in her chewing. The frown clouding her forehead had dissipated a little.
‘Van Leusden is a good man. And Johannes is a very capable boy. You may be sure that neither will let the Stadhouder down.’
‘I am grateful to you for your commendation of them.’ And I was. In my — admittedly limited — experience, women are better judges of character than men, though I suspect a grandmother may take an overly rosy view of their grandson’s accomplishments. My own dear grandmother has in the past attributed several gifts to me that I actually do not possess, the chief of them being a sense of diplomacy.
‘And what do you have planned for today, while my husband is working?’
I sensed that I was being warned off disturbing him, and I resented the implication that I was taking a holiday from any labour myself. In fact, I had no plans before the meeting in the evening, but I did not propose to admit that lest I be accused of idleness. It was clear that Gijsbert Voet was addicted to work, and I did not want to appear any less committed to my duties.
‘It may be some time before I see Utrecht again,’ I said, ‘so I thought I might explore the city.’
‘It is worth the effort,’ she averred, ‘and if you will not be back, it would be good not to miss any of it.’
‘Are there any places you would suggest I visit?’ I asked.
Her face darkened again. ‘I am sure an intelligent visitor like yourself can make perfectly adequate plans,’ she snapped.
‘Of course,’ I added quickly.
‘But I wouldn’t wander too far. There is a storm brewing.’
I glanced out of the window at the bright blue sky. There was a slight breeze blowing, judging by the swaying of some saplings, which would be very welcome after such hot and still weather. ‘I confess that I have never been good at reading the signs where weather is concerned.’
‘Utrecht does not have the cooling winds from the sea you will have experienced in The Hague or Leiden. The weather is quite changeable, and after a run of hot days such as we have had, there is often a thunderstorm.’
