by Graham Brack
At this point, the university lecturer in me took over. It is a standard technique in my profession, when you are surprised by a question, to answer it with a question of your own, and the most common response came to my mind now.
‘What do you think the answer is?’
Johannes rolled the wine round his glass slowly, as if considering whether to say something unwelcome. ‘Somebody told them.’
‘And how did that somebody know?’
‘Because they were in a position to hear the reports of Van Looy. There is a traitor somewhere in The Hague.’
‘But they are all vouched for. Van Looy himself was loyal. He passed his reports to Van Kamerik, who is the servant of the Heer van Zuylestein, a man whose loyalty is beyond reproach. The Stadhouder was careful to construct a completely secure pathway.’
‘I understand that, but can you think of a better explanation than the presence of a traitor near to the Stadhouder?’
‘Put in those terms, no, I can’t.’
‘Then we must be exceptionally careful what we say. I would urge you to speak in person to the Stadhouder and only to the Stadhouder.’
That made sense to me. One cannot be too careful where the security of the nation is at stake. ‘I confess that I detest this sort of work,’ I said. ‘I can’t wait to get back to teaching cocky and insubordinate students as usual.’
Johannes laughed. ‘I don’t think Leiden has a monopoly on those.’
‘The sooner this is over, the sooner that day will arise. At least now we can explain one of the diagrams Van Looy drew.’
‘Could I see them?’
I passed them to him. Johannes flicked through them, pausing to absorb the content of each.
‘So if the trident or family tree shows us the three members of the Leiden cell, this suggests they were led by another who took his orders from someone else. Is it too fanciful to assume the man at the top of the tree is the traitor in The Hague?’
‘It wouldn’t be easy for him to communicate directly with the students, and probably not safe either, given their lack of sobriety and loose tongues. But who is the intermediary?’
This was a question that Beniamino had repeatedly put to Molenaar, as evidenced by several burns on Molenaar’s hands.
‘The palms are very sensitive,’ explained Beniamino. ‘Obviously the privities are more sensitive still, but there is a limit to how many times you can use a hot iron on them.’
I winced. It seemed crystal clear to me that a man who was not talking when his penis was being grilled was probably a man who had nothing useful to say. ‘Is this strictly necessary?’ I asked, waving my hand in the general direction of the hellish instruments.
‘Not now,’ said Beniamino. ‘I think we have gone as far as we can go. It is time to put him out of his misery.’
‘You plan to kill him?’ I gasped.
‘No, of course not. I’ll deliver him to the Stadhouder, and he’ll die, either at The Hague or here in Utrecht.’
‘Is there no place in your world for mercy?’
‘Not for the Stadhouder’s enemies. But consider this, Master. When we reach The Hague, I will tell the Stadhouder what has been done, and there will be no further torture because it has already achieved all it can here. When I say no more torture, I mean apart from his actual execution, of course.’
‘Won’t he just be hanged?’
‘Maybe if he is returned to Utrecht, but if he dies at The Hague, I doubt it. The man who killed William the Silent had his hand burned off and was quartered and disembowelled alive. Of course, that was ninety years ago. We’re not as cruel these days. They probably won’t bother burning his hand off.’
I felt conflicting passions roiling within my breast. I looked at the bruised and bleeding body slumped in the chair and wished he could just be told to go away and sin no more. Jesus said that to the woman taken in adultery, who herself faced a horrid execution by stoning, so there were precedents. On the other hand, Molenaar would not have shown me any mercy. He intended my death, and perhaps if he had the means he would still murder me. ‘I don’t have the stomach for your work, Beniamino. In fact, I despise all this undercover stuff. I just want to have done with it and go home.’
‘Home? Now, there’s a nice idea.’
‘Don’t you have a home somewhere?’
‘No. I had one once, but I’m a soldier, albeit one who doesn’t wear a uniform. One day, if God wills, I’ll retire and buy a cottage somewhere.’
‘Don’t you want a wife and children?’
‘Do you?’
‘I’m a university lecturer and a minister.’ I almost said priest. ‘I’m not in a position to marry.’
‘Attachments would make me useless. Any woman for whom I felt love would ruin my career because I could not put her through what may one day happen to me. I’m not without female company, and I’ve spent many a night between —’
‘Yes, I see what you mean!’ I interrupted. ‘To return to our work, has Molenaar said anything about how he gets his orders?’
‘They’re relayed to him by Van der Horst, who is the only one that their master speaks to. And Molenaar doesn’t know whether actual speech is involved, or written orders, because he never sees them being delivered.’
‘Then it looks as if my next task is to find Van der Horst, which means returning to Leiden.’
‘We can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because my orders are to keep close to you to see that you come to no harm, so if you go to Leiden, I have to go too, and I have to bring him with me. And frankly, he is no shape to make the journey. Added to which, it would give him an opportunity to escape.’
‘But surely the danger is past now. You have trapped the would-be assassin.’
‘How do you know he’s the only one who wants to kill you?’
I stood amazed and aghast. My mouth moved, but I could make no sound. It was true. If Van der Horst had told Molenaar to kill me, perhaps he had said the same to Terhoeven. In any case, I dared not take any chances until we knew where Terhoeven was.
Beniamino laughed again and clapped his hand on my shoulder. ‘I’ve come pretty close to feeling like killing you myself.’
The city fathers of Utrecht were unhappy, and they let me know it in clear terms. They wanted to hang Molenaar in their city, for killing one of their people. It was not until Johannes arrived with a letter from his grandfather that their mood changed.
After the usual introductory pleasantries, it continued:
Gentlemen,
I hear from my grandson that there is dissension amongst you about the best way of proceeding now that the self-confessed murderer of our late and lamented colleague, mijnheer Bartholomeus van Leusden, has been taken and is imprisoned.
It is not my place to dictate the city’s response. I write merely to ensure that certain arguments are placed before you which, I think, you will come to agree have some weight.
Ignore that bit about not dictating the city’s response. That was exactly what he wanted to do.
First, I draw to your attention the fact that we do not know where this man is imprisoned. I suppose that it might be discovered, but Master Mercurius and his associate are servants of the Stadhouder and are under no obligation to inform us. If they leave without him, how does it profit us unless they vouchsafe to tell us his whereabouts?
They could follow me, no doubt, so I made a mental note to take a roundabout route every time I visited the warehouse in future.
It is entirely reasonable that we should wish to see this man suffer for his crime. The soul of our dear friend Van Leusden cries out to be avenged. However, he can be avenged just as well at The Hague as in Utrecht. What matters is that this criminal undergoes punishment to expiate his crime. The Stadhouder’s agents have requested his release into their custody for onward passage to The Hague, where we may be sure that our beloved Stadhouder’s passion for justice will see a fit doom bestowed upon the priso
ner.
I hesitate to tell you what you must already know, but the loyalty of the people of Utrecht has been in question since the late occupation, and it would be well if no cause were given to the Stadhouder to consider us less than good Dutchmen.
If I may make a suggestion, it would not be unreasonable if the burghers of the city agreed to the Stadhouder’s request, but imposed a condition of their own, namely, that the widow and daughter of mijnheer Van Leusden, and a delegation from this city, should be welcomed at The Hague as witnesses when the killer is executed so that they may verify for themselves that justice has been done.
Given so clear a hint, the city council finally managed to pass the necessary resolution, unsurprisingly exactly in the terms that Professor Voet suggested, and further undertook to offer four guards to accompany Beniamino and myself as we escorted the prisoner. When I returned to Beniamino to inform him of this, he appeared vexed.
‘We can hardly refuse, and it will increase the security of the journey, but it exposes me to their scrutiny. I’ll have to disguise myself and you’ll have to do most of the talking. In fact, if we can manage it, it might be better if they don’t realise I’m on the barge with you.’
I wanted to ensure that the Stadhouder was prepared to receive our prisoner, but at the same time I did not want to commit anything to paper that might alert our adversaries, so I wrote a note telling him that we were returning with one of the traitors to deliver him into safe custody. By courtesy of the mayor, one of the civic guard’s lieutenants was despatched on horseback to deliver the message, which I had sealed on the reverse with a special seal given to me by the Stadhouder’s office for this purpose.
In the evening we transferred Molenaar to the city’s jail, and thus relieved of the duty of guarding him, Beniamino and I were able to pass our last evening in Utrecht in a more relaxed frame of mind. I returned to the Professor’s house to keep him informed of our plans and to pack for my journey, and to thank him for his abundant hospitality.
Unexpectedly, he asked if he could meet Beniamino to thank him for his efforts in person. I explained that Beniamino guarded his privacy jealously, but undertook to see if he would attend upon the Professor, and so I hunted out the place where he had said he proposed to sup.
He was in high spirits. A young wench sat on his lap, he had a large tankard of beer (and had obviously had several before that) and all seemed well with him. Then I noticed something that made my heart sink.
He had bought a new lute.
When we arrived at The Hague, another bunch of soldiers were there to meet us. The Utrecht guards came too because they needed somewhere to stay overnight before making the return journey, so we looked a formidable troop as we walked from the quay to the Binnenhof.
The buildings included a dungeon, so it was convenient to take Molenaar there first and see him secured before we presented ourselves to the Stadhouder. Pieters came down to tell us that the Stadhouder would see us in half an hour. Meanwhile, we might take some food and drink in the hall, and select some for the prisoner. This we did, sending him some bread and beef, just as we had, and a jug of beer. I drank sparingly because I was tired and wanted to keep a clear head, but Beniamino more than made up for my limited use of the Stadhouder’s hospitality.
Half an hour extended to almost an hour, but at last we were admitted to the Stadhouder’s chamber.
‘Gentlemen, welcome! And my congratulations on your success thus far. Pieters, I won’t need you for a while. Now, sit and tell me what you have discovered.’
I was going to let Beniamino do the talking, but he showed no inclination to open his mouth and simply nodded to me to indicate that I should start.
‘The prisoner’s name is Molenaar. He is a student at Leiden, one of three who form a cell there. The others are called Van der Horst, whose father is a clergyman and known malcontent living in Haarlem, and a man called Terhoeven, of whom we as yet know little. They received their orders from an intermediary, not yet identified, who in turn received his from someone here.’
The Stadhouder sat up abruptly. ‘How do you know this?’
‘To be strictly truthful, we don’t. But it seems that someone knew that Van Looy was close to exposing the trio in Leiden. We don’t know who that could be if not someone here.’
‘Perhaps someone overheard something in Leiden?’
‘Van Looy was a very secretive man. He even kept his own notes in invisible ink. It is possible that someone overheard him arguing with Van Kamerik, as I did myself, or that Van Kamerik said something that was overheard.’
‘Van Kamerik could be the traitor himself. Van Zuylestein trusts him implicitly, but men have been wrong before. Except me, of course.’ He smiled gently as he said this, so I did not believe him to be claiming infallibility, but you never knew with the Stadhouder. Despite appearances to the contrary, he had a sense of humour. More or less, on a good day.
‘Molenaar says that Van Looy was killed by Terhoeven acting on his own initiative. He then fled, and so far as I can tell he must have left Leiden at once.’
‘Do we know where he lives?’
‘Molenaar doesn’t know. I can check the university records when I return to Leiden.’
‘Do so. We need to find this man so we can have both killers publicly executed together and perhaps discourage anyone following their demented paths. If you need help to find and detain this Terhoeven villain, let me know and I’ll send a troop of soldiers. I’m not going to pussyfoot around this, Mercurius. Anyone who harms one of my people can expect the full force of my power directed against them.’
‘Thank you, Stadhouder. I certainly won’t attempt to tackle him on my own.’
Beniamino stifled a laugh. The Stadhouder did not bother with any stifling.
‘That’s probably for the best,’ he said.
This disparagement of my physique was becoming wearisome. I grant that I do not possess the muscles of a wrestler, but I was a young man, abstemious in my habits and very similar in constitution to my older brother Laurentius, who served with distinction in our navy until an English bullet ended his life at the Battle of Lowestoft. Nobody ever sniggered at him.
‘It is too early to nominate another man to replace Van Leusden as Professor Voet’s deputy in Utrecht, Stadhouder, but I am pleased to report that the Professor is strengthening. And, in the light of services rendered to me, I am much more confident that his grandson Johannes would be a fitting replacement if one were needed.’
‘Excellent. I may go to Utrecht myself soon, once this conspiracy is squashed.’ He turned to Beniamino. ‘Thank you again for your service. Pieters has your fee ready outside.’
Beniamino stood, and the men shook hands. He gave me a playful clap on the upper arm as he walked past. ‘We probably won’t meet again, Master. It’s been fun.’
The door closed, but for some reason we continued to look at it for some moments after Beniamino had departed.
‘A fine servant to me,’ said William, ‘loyal and capable. But awful on the lute.’
I was about to agree when the door opened and the captain of the guard ran in.
‘Stadhouder — it’s the prisoner. He’s dead.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘Mercurius, don’t let the lute-player leave!’ the Stadhouder yelled, picking up his pistol and following the captain.
I caught up with Beniamino and quickly told him what had happened.
‘You let the Stadhouder go alone! Fool! Suppose it’s a trap!’
We ran to the dungeon as fast as we could, which, in Beniamino’s case, was much faster than me, but then he wasn’t wearing clerical garb.
‘A trap?’ I called out breathlessly.
‘How do we know the captain isn’t a traitor and that Molenaar is really dead?’
‘The Stadhouder took his pistol.’
‘Let’s hope he keeps it loaded. This way is quicker.’
He led me down a small set of stairs behind a curtain and we f
ound ourselves in some kind of pantry. We ran through an arch, which led to an ante-room at the back of the kitchen, and suddenly we were in the courtyard.
‘It’s where the food is delivered,’ Beniamino explained.
We could see a commotion to our left as someone was fumbling with a ring of keys.
‘Faster, man!’ barked the Stadhouder.
By the time we arrived, the door was being flung back and the Stadhouder led the way in.
‘Everybody out except the captain!’ he yelled.
I stood back to let the others drift out and was about to follow when I was called back.
‘Not you, Mercurius. And bring your friend.’
Beniamino and I entered the gloomy, narrow room. The captain called for light and someone handed him a lantern, by which we could see the body of Molenaar spread-eagled on the floor. He had vomited copiously and lay in an awkward position with one arm thrown back behind him.
‘Send for my physician,’ William instructed. ‘And if he has gone to bed, don’t let him waste time dressing.’
I knelt and said a prayer over Molenaar. Just for form’s sake, I checked the side of his neck for any sign of a pulse, but it was fairly clear that there was not going to be one. ‘He’s dead,’ I said.
‘Thank you, but I think we knew that,’ growled the Stadhouder. He turned angrily to the captain. ‘Which of your imbeciles were on guard?’
The captain pointed out two men in the courtyard who were doing their best to blend into the crowd.
‘You two, here!’ For a small man with a bad chest, William could be remarkably loud when he wanted. ‘Who entered this man’s cell?’
‘Nobody, Excellency.’
