CHAPTER II
SHE WHO BUYS--PAYS
When Lysbeth's mind recovered from its confusion she found herself stillin the sledge and beyond the borders of the crowd that was engaged inrapturously congratulating the winner. Drawn up alongside of the Wolfwas another sleigh of plain make, and harnessed to it a heavy Flemishhorse. This vehicle was driven by a Spanish soldier, with whom sat asecond soldier apparently of the rank of sergeant. There was no oneelse near; already people in the Netherlands had learnt to keep theirdistance from Spanish soldiers.
"If your Excellency would come now," the sergeant was saying, "thislittle matter can be settled without any further trouble."
"Where is she?" asked Montalvo.
"Not more than a mile or so away, near the place called Steene Veld."
"Tie her up in the snow to wait till to-morrow morning. My horse istired and it may save us trouble," he began, then added, after glancingback at the crowd behind him and next at Lysbeth, "no, I will come."
Perhaps the Count did not wish to listen to condolences on his defeat,or perhaps he desired to prolong the _tete-a-tete_ with his fairpassenger. At any rate, without further hesitation, he struck his wearyhorse with the whip, causing it to amble forward somewhat stiffly but ata good pace.
"Where are we going, Senor?" asked Lysbeth anxiously. "The race is overand I must seek my friends."
"Your friends are engaged in congratulating the victor, lady," heanswered in his suave and courteous voice, "and I cannot leave you aloneupon the ice. Do not trouble; this is only a little matter of businesswhich will scarcely take a quarter of an hour," and once more he struckthe horse urging it to a better speed.
Lysbeth thought of remonstrating, she thought even of springing from thesledge, but in the end she did neither. To seem to continue the drivewith her cavalier would, she determined, look more natural and lessabsurd than to attempt a violent escape from him. She was certain thathe would not put her down merely at her request; something in his mannertold her so, and though she had no longing for his company it wasbetter than being made ridiculous before half the inhabitants of Leyden.Moreover, the position was no fault of hers; it was the fault of Dirkvan Goorl, who should have been present to take her from the sledge.
As they drove along the frozen moat Montalvo leant forward and began tochat about the race, expressing regret at having lost it, but using noangry or bitter words. Could this be the man, wondered Lysbeth asshe listened, whom she had seen deliberately attempt to overthrow hisadversary in a foul heedless of dishonour or of who might be killed bythe shock? Could this be the man whose face just now had looked likethe face of a devil? Had these things happened, indeed, or was it notpossible that her fancy, confused with the excitement and the speed atwhich they were travelling, had deceived her? Certainly it seemed tohave been overcome at last, for she could not remember the actual finishof the race, or how they got clear of the shouting crowd.
While she was still wondering thus, replying from time to time toMontalvo in monosyllables, the sledge in front of them turned the cornerof one of the eastern bastions and came to a halt. The place where itstopped was desolate and lonely, for the town being in a state of peaceno guard was mounted on the wall, nor could any living soul be foundupon the snowy waste that lay beyond the moat. At first, indeed, Lysbethwas able to see nobody at all, for by now the sun had gone down and hereyes were not accustomed to the increasing light of the moon. Presently,however, she caught sight of a knot of people standing on the ice in arecess or little bay of the moat, and half hidden by a fringe of deadreeds.
Montalvo saw also, and halted his horse within three paces of them.The people were five in number, three Spanish soldiers and two women.Lysbeth looked, and with difficulty stifled a cry of surprise and fear,for she knew the women. The tall, dark person, with lowering eyes, wasnone other than the cap-seller and Spanish spy, Black Meg. And she whocrouched there upon the ice, her arms bound behind her, her grizzledlocks, torn loose by some rough hand, trailing on the snow--surely itwas the woman who called herself the Mare, and who that very afternoonspoke to her, saying that she had known her father, and cursing theSpaniards and their Inquisition. What were they doing here? Instantly ananswer leapt into her mind, for she remembered Black Meg's words--thatthere was a price upon this heretic's head which before nightfallwould be in her pocket. And why was there a square hole cut in theice immediately in front of the captive? Could it be--no, that was toohorrible.
"Well, officer," broke in Montalvo, addressing the sergeant in a quiet,wearied voice, "what is all this about? Set out your case."
"Excellency," replied the man, "it is a very simple matter. Thiscreature here, so that woman is ready to take oath," and he pointed toBlack Meg, "is a notorious heretic who has already been condemned todeath by the Holy Office, and whose husband, a learned man who paintedpictures and studied the stars, was burnt on a charge of witchcraft andheresy, two years ago at Brussels. But she managed to escape the stake,and since then has lived as a vagrant, hiding in the islands of theHaarlemer Meer, and, it is suspected, working murder and robbery on anyof Spanish blood whom she can catch. Now she has been caught herselfand identified, and, of course, the sentence being in full force againsther, can be dealt with at once on your Excellency's command. Indeed,it would not have been necessary that you should be troubled aboutthe thing at all had it not been that this worthy woman," and again hepointed to Black Meg, "who was the one who waylaid her, pulled her downand held her till we came, requires your certificate in order thatshe may claim the reward from the Treasurer of the Holy Inquisition.Therefore, you will be asked to certify that this is, indeed, thenotorious heretic commonly known as Martha the Mare, but whose othername I forget, after which, if you will please to withdraw, we will seeto the rest."
"You mean that she will be taken to the prison to be dealt with by theHoly Office?" queried Montalvo.
"Not exactly, Excellency," answered the sergeant with a discreet smileand a cough. "The prison, I am told, is quite full, but she may startfor the prison and--there seems to be a hole in the ice into which,since Satan leads the footsteps of such people astray, this hereticmight chance to fall--or throw herself."
"What is the evidence?" asked Montalvo.
Then Black Meg stood forward, and, with the rapidity and unction of aspy, poured out her tale. She identified the woman with one whom she hadknown who was sentenced to death by the Inquisition and escaped, and,after giving other evidence, ended by repeating the conversation whichshe had overheard between the accused and Lysbeth that afternoon.
"You accompanied me in a fortunate hour, Senora van Hout," said thecaptain gaily, "for now, to satisfy myself, as I wish to be just, and donot trust these paid hags," and he nodded towards Black Meg, "I mustask you upon your oath before God whether or no you confirm that woman'stale, and whether or no this very ugly person named the Mare called downcurses upon my people and the Holy Office? Answer, and quickly, if youplease, Senora, for it grows cold here and my horse is beginning toshiver."
Then, for the first time, the Mare raised her head, dragging at herhair, which had become frozen to the ice, until she tore it free.
"Lysbeth van Hout," she cried in shrill, piercing tones, "would you, toplease your Spanish lover, bring your father's playmate to her death?The Spanish horse is cold and cannot stay, but the poor NetherlandMare--ah! she may be thrust beneath the blue ice and bide there till herbones rot at the bottom of the moat. You have sought the Spaniards, you,whose blood should have warned you against them, and I tell you that itshall cost you dear; but if you say this word they seek, then it shallcost you everything, not only the body, but the spirit also. Woe to you,Lysbeth van Hout, if you cut me off before my work is done. I fear notdeath, nay I welcome it, but I tell you I have work to do before I die."
Now, in an agony of mind, Lysbeth turned and looked at Montalvo.
The Count was a man of keen perceptions, and understood it all. Leaningforward, his arm resting on the back of the sledge, as tho
ugh tocontemplate the prisoner, he whispered into Lysbeth's ear, so low thatno one else could hear his words.
"Senora," he said, "I have no wishes in this matter. I do not desire todrown that poor mad woman, but if you confirm the spy's story, drownshe must. At present I am not satisfied, so everything turns upon yourevidence. I do not know what passed between you this afternoon, andpersonally I do not care, only, if you should chance to have no clearrecollection of the matter alleged, I must make one or two littlestipulations--very little ones. Let me see, they are--that you willspend the rest of this evening's fete in my company. Further, thatwhenever I choose to call upon you, your door will be open to me, thoughI must remind you that, on three occasions already, when I have wishedto pay my respects, it has been shut."
Lysbeth heard and understood. If she would save this woman's life shemust expose herself to the attentions of the Spaniard, which she desiredleast of anything in the world. More, speaking upon her oath in thepresence of God, she must utter a dreadful lie, she who as yet had neverlied. For thirty seconds or more she thought, staring round her withanguished eyes, while the scene they fell on sank into her soul in suchfashion that never till her death's day did she forget its aspect.
The Mare spoke no more, she only knelt searching her face with a sternand wondering glance. A little to the right stood Black Meg, glaringat her sullenly, for the blood-money was in danger. Behind the prisonerwere two of the soldiers, one patting his hand to his face to hidea yawn, while the other beat his breast to warm himself. The thirdsoldier, who was placed somewhat in front, stirred the surface of thehole with the shaft of his halbert to break up the thin film of icewhich was forming over it, while Montalvo himself, still leaningsideways and forwards, watched her eyes with an amused and cynicalexpression. And over all, over the desolate snows and gabled roofs ofthe town behind; over the smooth blue ice, the martyr and the murderers;over the gay sledge and the fur-wrapped girl who sat within it, fell thecalm light of the moon through a silence broken only by the beating ofher heart, and now and again by the sigh of a frost-wind breathing amongthe rushes.
"Well, Senora," asked Montalvo, "if you have sufficiently reflectedshall I administer the oath in the form provided?"
"Administer it," she said hoarsely.
So, descending from the sledge, he stood in front of Lysbeth, and,lifting his cap, repeated the oath to her, an oath strong enough toblast her soul if she swore to it with false intent.
"In the name of God the Son and of His Blessed Mother, you swear?" heasked.
"I swear," she answered.
"Good, Senora. Now listen to me. Did you meet that woman thisafternoon?"
"Yes, I met her on the ice."
"And did she in your hearing utter curses upon the Government and theHoly Church, and call upon you to assist in driving the Spaniards fromthe land, as this spy, whom I believe is called Black Meg, has bornewitness?"
"No," said Lysbeth.
"I am afraid that is not quite enough, Senora; I may have misquoted theexact words. Did the woman say anything of the sort?"
For one second Lysbeth hesitated. Then she caught sight of the victim'swatching, speculative eyes, and remembered that this crazed and brokencreature once had been a child whom her father had kissed and playedwith, and that the crime of which she was accused was that she hadescaped from death at the stake.
"The water is cold to die in!" the Mare said, in a meditative voice, asthough she were thinking aloud.
"Then why did you run away from the warm fire, heretic witch?" jeeredBlack Meg.
Now Lysbeth hesitated no longer, but again answered in a monosyllable,"No."
"Then what did she do or say, Senora?"
"She said she had known my father who used to play with her when she wasa child, and begged for alms, that is all. Then that woman came up, andshe ran away, whereon the woman said there was a price upon her head,and that she meant to have the money."
"It is a lie," screamed Black Meg in fierce, strident tones.
"If that person will not be silent, silence her," said Montalvo,addressing the sergeant. "I am satisfied," he went on, "that there is noevidence at all against the prisoner except the story of a spy, who saysshe believes her to be a vagrant heretic of bad character who escapedfrom the stake several years ago in the neighbourhood of Brussels,whither it is scarcely worth while to send to inquire about the matter.So that charge may drop. There remains the question as to whether orno the prisoner uttered certain words this afternoon, which, if she didutter them, are undoubtedly worthy of the death that, under my authorityas acting commandant of this town, I have power to inflict. Thisquestion I foresaw, and that is why I asked the Senora, to whom thewoman is alleged to have spoken the words, to accompany me here togive evidence. She has done so, and her evidence on oath as against thestatement of a spy woman not on oath, is that no such words were spoken.This being so, as the Senora is a good Catholic whom I have no reason todisbelieve, I order the release of the prisoner, whom for my part I takefor nothing more than a crazy and harmless wanderer."
"At least you will detain her till I can prove that she is the hereticwho escaped from the stake near Brussels," shouted Black Meg.
"I will do nothing of the sort; the prison here is over-full already.Untie her arms and let her go."
The soldiers obeyed, wondering somewhat, and the Mare scrambled to herfeet. For a moment she stood looking at her deliverer. Then crying, "Weshall met again, Lysbeth van Hout!" suddenly she turned and sped up adyke at extraordinary speed. In a few seconds there was nothing to beseen of her but a black spot upon the white landscape, and presently shehad vanished altogether.
"Gallop as you will, Mare, I shall catch you yet," screamed Black Megafter her. "And you too, my pretty little liar, who have cheated me outof a dozen florins. Wait till you are up before the Inquisition as aheretic--for that's where you'll end. No fine Spanish lover will saveyou then. So you have gone to the Spanish, have you, and thrown overyour fat-faced burgher; well, you will have enough of Spaniards beforeyou have done with them, I can tell you."
Twice had Montalvo tried to stop this flood of furious eloquence, whichhad become personal and might prove prejudicial to his interests, butwithout avail. Now he adopted other measures.
"Seize her," he shouted to two of the soldiers; "that's it; now hold herunder water in that hole till I tell you to let her up again."
They obeyed, but it took all three of them to carry out the order, forBlack Meg fought and bit like a wild cat, until at last she was thrustinto the icy moat head downwards. When at length she was released,soaked and shivering, she crept off silently enough, but the look offury which she cast at Montalvo and Lysbeth drew from the captain aremark that perhaps it would have been as well to have kept her underwater two minutes longer.
"Now, sergeant," he added, in a genial voice, "it is a cold night,and this has been a troublesome business for a feast-day, so here'ssomething for you and your watch to warm yourselves with when you go offduty," and he handed him what in those days was a very handsome present."By the way," he said, as the men saluted him gratefully, "perhaps youwill do me a favour. It is only to take this black horse of mine to hisstable and harness that grey trooper nag to the sledge instead, as Iwish to go the round of the moat, and my beast is tired."
Again the men saluted and set to work to change the horses, whereonLysbeth, guessing her cavalier's purpose, turned as though to fly away,for her skates were still upon her feet. But he was watching.
"Senora," he said in a quiet voice, "I think that you gave me thepromise of your company for the rest of this evening, and I am certain,"he added with a slight bow, "that you are a lady whom nothing wouldinduce to tell an untruth. Had I not been sure of that I should scarcelyhave accepted your evidence so readily just now."
Lysbeth winced visibly. "I thought, Senor, that you were going to returnto the fete."
"I do not remember saying so, Senora, and as a matter of fact I havepickets to visit. Do not be afraid, the drive
is charming in thismoonlight, and afterwards perhaps you will extend your hospitality sofar as to ask me to supper at your house."
Still she hesitated, dismay written on her face.
"Jufvrouw Lysbeth," he said in an altered voice, "in my country wehave a homely proverb which says, 'she who buys, pays.' You have boughtand--the goods have been delivered. Do you understand? Ah! allow me tohave the pleasure of arranging those furs. I knew that you were the soulof honour, and were but--shall we say teasing me? Otherwise, had youreally wished to go, of course you would have skated away just nowwhile you had the opportunity. That is why I gave it you, as naturally Ishould not desire to detain you against your will."
Lysbeth heard and was aghast, for this man's cleverness overwhelmed her.At every step he contrived to put her in the wrong; moreover she wascrushed by the sense that he had justice on his side. She _had_ boughtand she _must_ pay. Why had she bought? Not for any advantage of herown, but from an impulse of human pity--to save a fellow creature'slife. And why should she have perjured herself so deeply in order tosave that life? She was a Catholic and had no sympathy with such people.Probably this person was an Anabaptist, one of that dreadful sect whichpractised nameless immoralities, and ran stripped through the streetscrying that they were "the naked Truth." Was it then because thecreature had declared that she had known her father in her childhood?To some extent yes, but was not there more behind? Had she not beeninfluenced by the woman's invocation about the Spaniards, of which thetrue meaning came home to her during that dreadful sledge race; at themoment, indeed, when she saw the Satanic look upon the face of Montalvo?It seemed to her that this was so, though at the time she had notunderstood it; it seemed to her that she was not a free agent; that someforce pushed her forward which she could neither control nor understand.
Moreover--and this was the worst of it--she felt that little good couldcome of her sacrifice, or that if good came, at least it would not beto her or hers. Now she was as a fish in a net, though why it was worththis brilliant Spaniard's while to snare her she could not understand,for she forgot that she was beautiful and a woman of property. Well,to save the blood of another she had bought, and in her own blood andhappiness, or in that of those dear to her, assuredly she must pay,however cruel and unjust might be the price.
Such were the thoughts that passed through Lysbeth's mind as the strongFlemish gelding lumbered forward, dragging the sledge at the same steadypace over rough ice and smooth. And all the while Montalvo behind herwas chatting pleasantly about this matter and that; telling her ofthe orange groves in Spain, of the Court of the Emperor Charles,of adventures in the French wars, and many other things, to whichconversation she made such answer as courtesy demanded and no more.What would Dirk think, she was wondering, and her cousin, Pieter van deWerff, whose good opinion she valued, and all the gossips of Leyden? Sheonly prayed that they might not have missed her, or at least that theytook it for granted that she had gone home.
On this point, however, she was soon destined to be undeceived, forpresently, trudging over the snow-covered ice and carrying his uselessskates in his hand, they met a young man whom she knew as Dirk's fellowapprentice. On seeing them he stopped in front of the sledge in such aposition that the horse, a steady and a patient animal, pulled up of itsown accord.
"Is the Jufvrouw Lysbeth van Hout there?" he asked anxiously.
"Yes," she replied, but before she could say more Montalvo broke in,inquiring what might be the matter.
"Nothing," he answered, "except that she was lost and Dirk van Goorl, myfriend, send me to look for her this way while he took the other."
"Indeed. Then, noble sir, perhaps you will find the Heer Dirk van Goorland tell him that the Senora, his cousin, is merely enjoying an eveningdrive, and that if he comes to her house in an hour's time he will findher safe and sound, and with her myself, the Count Juan de Montalvo,whom she has honoured with an invitation to supper."
Then, before the astonished messenger could answer; before, indeed,Lysbeth could offer any explanation of his words, Montalvo lashed upthe horse and left him standing on the moat bewildered, his cap off andscratching his head.
After this they proceeded on a journey which seemed to Lysbeth almostinterminable. When the circuit of the walls was finished, Montalvohalted at one of the shut gates, and, calling to the guard within,summoned them to open. This caused delay and investigation, for atfirst the sergeant of the guard would not believe that it was his actingcommandant who spoke without.
"Pardon, Excellency," he said when he had inspected him with a lantern,"but I did not think that you would be going the rounds with a ladyin your sledge," and holding up the light the man took a long look atLysbeth, grinning visibly as he recognised her.
"Ah, he is a gay bird, the captain, a very gay bird, and it's a prettyDutch dickey he is teaching to pipe now," she heard him call to acomrade as he closed the heavy gates behind their sleigh.
Then followed more visits to other military posts in the town, and witheach visit a further explanation. All this while the Count Montalvouttered no word beyond those of ordinary compliment, and ventured onno act of familiarity; his conversation and demeanour indeed remainingperfectly courteous and respectful. So far as it went this wassatisfactory, but at length there came a moment when Lysbeth felt thatshe could bear the position no longer.
"Senor," she said briefly, "take me home; I grow faint."
"With hunger doubtless," he interrupted; "well, by heaven! so do I. But,my dear lady, as you are aware, duty must be attended to, and, afterall, you may have found some interest in accompanying me on a tour ofthe pickets at night. I know your people speak roughly of us Spanishsoldiers, but I hope that after this you will be able to bear testimonyto their discipline. Although it is a fete day you will be my witnessthat we have not found a man off duty or the worse for drink. Here,you," he called to a soldier who stood up to salute him, "follow me tothe house of the Jufvrouw Lysbeth van Hout, where I sup, and lead thissledge back to my quarters."
Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch Page 2
