by Anya Seton
Elizabeth's rebellion was soon quenched by self-doubt, and the realization that even did she change her mind, there was little she could do. Daniel had Robert's signed authorization in his knapsack.
"Aye, perhaps you're right," she said at last.
New Amsterdam was a quaint colorful town dominated by the peculiar many-angled earthen fort and a windmill. Strung along the shore, outside the fort, were fifty little bouweries, plots of land each with a house, topped by a steep-pitched roof sparkling with red tiles. The houses were enclosed by picket fences and gardens already bright with daffodils and early tulips. In every window there were starched white curtains. Despite the noisy chickens and pigs rooting in the swill which had been dumped in the dusty streets, the little town gave an impression of cleanliness and gaiety. Elizabeth's spirits rose, for there was much to look at.
On their walk from the landing place to the new City Tavern, which Kieft had erected for the reception of strangers, they met a motley assortment—working folk bunchily clad in vivid linsey-woolseys clomped along in wooden shoes, and a fat mounted burgomaster rode by in a richness of fur, plumed hat and big lace ruff such as she hadn't seen since London. His wife ambled beside him looking placid and prosperous in an otter-trimmed gown and velvet cap edged with tiny pearls. But New Amsterdam was a cosmopolitan town and transiently contained many nationalities.
They met two Spanish sailors with scarlet bandannas and gold earrings, and an Angol slave, his sleek black body barely covered by a white cotton shift, and then they saw a Jesuit priest solemnly walking from the Tavern, his missal open in his hand, a brass crucifix around his neck.
"Will ye look at that!" Patrick cried, pointing to the priest. "Free as air, an' nobody hindering him."
"What is he?" asked Elizabeth, staring at the long black robes and the tonsure.
"What I ha'nt seen in donkey's years," said Daniel, rushing up to the priest, while Elizabeth stopped in surprise, though Toby walked on. "Father, Father—will ye gi' me a blessing?" cried Daniel to the priest, sweeping off his helmet and looking humble for the first time in Elizabeth's knowledge.
The Jesuit raised his head and smiled. "You are Catholique?" he said gently in a strong French accent, and at Daniel's somewhat shamefaced nod the priest raised two fingers and made the sign of the cross. "Que Dieu vous bénisse," he said, and bending his head continued to read his missal.
"Where do ye lodge, Father—" said Daniel, urgently following the priest. "Might it be that you'd hear me confession?"
The Jesuit looked up again, his wise eyes searching the rugged red-bearded face. "If you wish, my son," he said. "I lodge at the Tavern, until I go to my mission with the Iroquois."
"Mass, Father?" asked Daniel below his breath.
The priest inclined his head. "Each morning in my attic chamber."
Freethinker though she felt herself to be, Elizabeth was shocked, while the horrified epithets, "Anti-Christ," "Roman lewdness," "Scarlet idolatry" echoed through her mind in Winthrop's voice.
Daniel, still looking humble, shamefaced, and yet happy, gave her a keen look as he returned to her. "Well, ye knew I'd been a Papist, me dear—" he said with a lopsided smile.
"But not for many years," she answered uncertainly. "And confession; Mass; a priest, all that—why I never thought it of you, Dan."
"Nor I," he agreed. "It come over me, when I saw the good Father. I don't know the state o' me soul, except 'tis bad. Should I die sudden, at least I'll be shriven once again, and had the sacrament "
Elizabeth shook her head. "'Tis my turn to say you're talking nonsense. You won't die. And all that claptrap surely wouldn't help you!"
Patrick stopped dead on the street. "Bess, you're a fool!" he exploded. "A meddlesome stiff-necked Puritan fool!" He cried so loud that a white-capped woman leaned out of a nearby window, and a small boy in sabots turned and giggled. Elizabeth caught her breath and walked on quickly. Never before had Daniel glared at her with resentment.
"Don't let's quarrel, Dan," she said at length, trying to steady her voice. "I'm sorry I said anything."
The throbbing in Patrick's head subsided. He walked beside her in silence until they came to the new stone building which was called the City Tavern.
"I need another drink," he said in semi-apology. "Some o' the fair an' fiery white genever I used to relish in Holland."
Daniel did not however get drunk that night. He sought out the priest, made his confession and received absolution. At dawn he attended Mass with the Spanish sailors and a trader from New France. Elizabeth went to bed early, in a room she shared with two other women, a mevrouw from up the Great North River at Rennselaerswyck, and a Bermudian gentlewoman en route to Virginia.
The next morning, which was Saturday, an ensign called Gysbert deLeeuw summoned the Greenwich proprietors and escorted them to the Director General of the New Netherlands. Kieft lived in an imposing brick mansion inside the Fort, next to the new church which was but half built. The pounding of sledgehammers and the shouts of workmen in both Dutch and English came through the open windows and accompanied the ceremony in which Greenwich was transferred.
William Kieft was a small fat man like a skittle ball. In a carved thronelike chair, he perched upon two red velvet cushions so that his head might be higher than his associates who were ranged on either side of a long table. Ensign deLeeuw ushered Daniel and Elizabeth into the wainscoted room. Elizabeth who was very nervous stumbled over the edge of the Turkey carpet and, clumsy with pregnancy, would have fallen—except that a tall thin young man jumped up from the end of the table and caught her. "Careful there!" he said smiling. "Can't have you plunging headlong into patroonship!" He looked down admiringly at her embarrassed face.
"You speak English!" she cried in relief, trying to hide her swollen body under her cloak, for she saw all the Dutch eyes fixed on her.
"I am English," replied the tall man. "George Baxter, English secretary to the Director General. You're Mrs. Feake?" As she nodded, he continued, "This is Mr. Feake?"
"No. My husband is ill. This is Captain Patrick ... I came in my husband's stead."
George Baxter turning to Kieft translated this. The Governor frowned. He smoothed the gilded plumes on his beaver hat. He drummed his fingers on his neat little paunch. He made small explosive remarks to a grave Frenchman who sat beside him.
"I've brought Mr. Feake's authorization, Your High Mightiness," said Daniel, and as Baxter started to translate, Daniel interrupted. "Don't bother, thankye, I can do it meself." And he began to address the Governor in halting but obviously persuasive Dutch.
Baxter motioned Elizabeth to a chair beside his own. "Do sit down, Madam," he said low behind his hand. "This'll take a while. Kieft's a fusser. Doesn't think fast. He expected Mr. Feake."
"They won't refuse us now?" she whispered, suddenly anxious. "Oh no," said the secretary. "And 'tis not a matter of 'they' anyhow."
Baxter glanced at the faces around the council table. Van der Huyckens the Fiscal, Cornelis van Tienhoven the secretary, Dominie Everard Bogardus the pastor, Ensign van Dyke the incompetent head of the militia, Doctor de la Montagne the councilor. Not one of them save de la Montagne could influence Kieft, and he seldom. The pompous little ass'll ruin us with his stupidities, Baxter thought, but he pays me well. The secretary, seeing that Elizabeth was looking at him expectantly, went on with a smile.
"Kieft does as he pleases, only other person with a vote is his councilor there, Jan de la Montagne, French Huguenot he is, able man—physician and soldier both. But even he can't stop Kieft, once he's made up his mind."
"Stop him from what?" she asked, feeling more at ease, and glad to find so nice an Englishman in this alien place.
"From anything. But it's the Indians that concern us right now. Kieft's heading for trouble. Bullying and oppressing our Manhattans, other tribes too. He'll get us massacred yet." He checked himself, aware that the pastor, Bogardus, was staring at him and that he was talking too freely to this pretty w
oman. "Ah," he said—"See, the Director General is nodding. Your business is settled!"
"Baxter! Winkelman!" called out Kieft in his guttural, rasping voice. The English secretary and Dutch clerk both sprang to their feet. Kieft waved his pudgy hand towards paper, inkhorns and pens which were set out in readiness. The two men sat down again and began to write at the Governor's dictation.
Daniel came over and stood by Elizabeth. "All done," he said putting his hand on her shoulder.
"What does the document say?" she asked in a low voice. "Wht's all that Dutch mean?"
"Here, Madam," said Baxter, sliding the English translation over to her. "'Tis fairly put and you'll not regret it." Elizabeth glanced down and read:
Whereas we. Captain Daniel Patterick and Elizabeth Feae, duly authorized by her husband Robert Feae, now sick, have resided two years about five or six leagues east of the Netherlanders, subjects of the Lords States-General who have protested against us declaring that the said lands lay within their limits ... and whereas we understand nothing about the matter and can not any longer presume to remain thus on account both of the strifes of the English and these treacherous and villainous Indians, of whom we have seen horrible examples enough...
Elizabeth paused and raised her eyes to Daniel, and he interpreting her look, said, "I know, me dear. Ye still don't think us in any danger from the Indians, mebbe we're not, but ye didn't hear what His High Mightiness's been saying. There's been murder done here too—an old cartwright chopped to bits, and other outrages in Haverstraw."
"At least you can't blame our Siwanoys for those," said Elizabeth, and returned to the document.
We therefore betake ourselves under the protection of the noble Lords, the States, his Highness the Prince of Orange, and the West India Company or their Governor General of New Netherland, promising for the future to be faithful to them as all honest subjects are bound to be, whereunto we bind ourselves by oath and by signature, provided we be protected against our enemies as much as possible and enjoy henceforth the same privileges that all Patroons of New Netherland have obtained ... This done and signed in the presence of the underwritten witnesses, the lxth of April, 1642.
Even while she finished the English translation Daniel signed his name to the Dutch paper, and the witnesses—being the two men nearest at hand—were the purple-nosed Dominie, Everard Bogardus, and the little Dutch clerk, Johannes Winkelman.
"I needn't sign?" asked Elizabeth slowly.
Baxter translated this to the Governor, who shrugged, waggled his fingers jocularly at Elizabeth, winked, and said "Kus! Kus!" amongst other sallies which provoked van Tienhoven to a lewd guffaw. Daniel and Baxter chuckled too, and the latter said, "You don't sign, you're only a woman. But the Director says you must now kiss the flag for yourself and husband and then you may kiss him!"
"Indeed," said Elizabeth after a moment. She lifted her chin and watched while Daniel performed the ceremony of allegiance. And what is it to him? she thought. A rough soldier, a Papist who's served under the Dutch flag before, and to begin with was an Irishman. She saw Patrick suddenly through Winthrop's eyes, and shame flooded her at this association.
"Now you, Bess," Daniel said coming back to her. "'Tis just a matter o' form."
As she did not move, he cried, "Holy Mary! Ye can't back out now! Think o' Robert and the children. Think of Anneke. And ye've given your word on the document."
She bit her lips, hesitating. All the men were staring at her, Kieft's piggy eyes glared down the table, hard, unwinking.
"ft would not be wise to anger the Director General, Madam—" said Baxter softly, and sympathetically. His quiet English voice pierced her defiance.
"No—" she whispered. "And I've given my word."
She rose and walked down the room towards the flag which was displayed on the wall behind the Governor's chair. She bent near it, but did not touch it with her lips. She then went towards Kieft and made to kiss his hand as Daniel had done, but the Governor, chuckling, grabbed the neck of her gown and jerking her head down, gave her a great smack on the mouth. "Kus! Kus!" he cried, and pinched her on the buttock, while the men all roared.
Foul little dandiprat, Elizabeth thought, but she managed to smile. Kieft burst into a torrent of Dutch, and stood up; his hat barely clearing the table.
"He's pleased wi' ye, lovey—" said Daniel, much relieved. "Thinks ye're a beauty, and wants us to dine with him. Come along!"
The newly made Dutch subjects spent the afternoon in feasting. Elizabeth ate what she could of the "Hutsepot" or stew, the capons, oysters, freshly caught shad, crullers, waffles and gingerbread. She drank strong Rhine wine from the ritual "clover-leaf" goblets, toasting at the Governor's command all the good things that come in threes. The Trinity, the Three Graces, the Three riddles, the Three betrothal kisses. She listened to innumerable Dutch oaths of which "Verdomme!" soon became familiar. When the Director roared for his gaming cup, she obediently cast the dice for him, and herself befuddled with excitement, and wine, watched uncaring while the men gambled with stivers, or the white and purple wampum beads they called "seawant."
It was the Sabbath Eve before Kieft rose from his table and she assumed that, especially since Dominie Bogardus was present, decorum would now return, and the Sabbath quiet begin. She was quite wrong. Kieft, being unable to get an arm around her thickened waist, hung on to her elbow and tottered with her out of his house into the Fort. The other men followed, and as soon as they reached the village street a group of giggling girls erupted from a taproom and joined them.
"Where are we going?" said Elizabeth crossly to Daniel who didn't hear her, for he was singing, "Titty cum tawty the duck's in the water, Titty cum tawty the geese follow a'ter," at the top of his lungs.
George Baxter answered her somewhat thickly. "Why, to play skittles at the Tavern, His Excellency always does on Saturday night!"
"Does he so?" said Elizabeth. "And what does he do on the Sabbath?"
"Why, he plays skittles," said the young man, surprised. "Or no, I think tomorrow there's a cockfight."
Elizabeth looked behind at the pastor. One of the girls had hold of his white Geneva bands and was playfully tugging at them while Bogardus smirked down at her amorously.
"Oh Lud," said Elizabeth, and suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.
"Vat ist? Mevrouw. Vat ist?" said Kieft peering up at her, Baxter too stared at her in astonishment. Elizabeth could not stop laughing, until Daniel noting the commotion ran up. "Bess, what ails ye? Too much wine?"
"Nay—" she said between gasps. "I was thinking of Boston. I was thinking of my Uncle John's face if he could see us now!"
"Oh-ho!" said Daniel kindly enough though his wits were slowed by drink. "Your High Mightiness, she thinks of her uncle, Mr. Winthrop, that was Governor of Massachusetts," he explained to Kieft, who was pleased. One of the English governors was naturally not nearly so important a man as the Netherland's Director General; still it was agreeable to have lured away a lady of high birth from the arrogant English. The High and Mighty Lords of the States General at home would be delighted when they heard. Nor, thought Kieft, was this the only Jonkvrouw to repudiate the English in favor of the felicities bestowed by New Netherlands. "Baxter!" he called suddenly, releasing Elizabeth's elbow. The young secretary hurried up to him.
"Aye, Your Excellency?" Baxter listened to the Governor and translated to Elizabeth. "Two other English ladies have written for permission to settle on Dutch land. He asks if you know them. One is the Lady Deborah Moody from Salem. She is an Anabaptist, I believe—been banished from the Bay."
"Why, no—" said Elizabeth, mildly interested. "At least, in London years ago she bought physic at our apothecary shop, but I never met her. Who's the other one?"
"Mistress Anne Hutchinson," said Baxter a trifle ruefully. "Quite notorious, I gather, also a religious fanatic. But I will say for the Governor he accepts any creed here, so long as they make responsible settlers."
Elizabeth ha
d not heard the last of his remarks. "Mrs. Hutchinson," she repeated with wonder. "Aye, I know her. Is she leaving Rhode Island? I'd dearly love to see her again."
"Well, you may, no doubt," said Baxter. "Her husband's died and she plans to move all her family to a bouwery called Vredeland. 'Tis on the mainland about twenty miles from Greenwich."
Kieft interrupted impatiently, wanting to know what Elizabeth was saying. Baxter explained that Mrs. Feake knew both the English ladies, and tactfully added that she said they would be a great credit to the Dutch. Elizabeth was deeply comforted. All her remaining doubts were laid by the knowledge that Anne Hutchinson herself was not scrupling to change allegiance. Elizabeth gave the Director General her most beautiful and dazzling smile.
After that, he redoubled his attentions, commandeered the whole taproom at the City Tavern, and invited most of the Tavern's heterogeneous guests to an open house in honor of Greenwich's new patroons.
Elizabeth did not escape until midnight, and by that time jollity had given away to snores and stupor. There had been trouble earlier when a fight arose between Daniel and a Dutch soldier named Jan Blauvelt. Elizabeth, half dead from weariness, did not see what was happening until she heard Daniel roaring out Gaelic battle cries, and saw him pitching and weaving, his great fists thudding against Blauvelt's portly person. The Dutchman's nose was dripping blood all over the sanded floor, but he seemed to be giving as good as he got.
"Oh, stop them—" cried Elizabeth. Nobody paid attention until the Director aroused himself, stared at the two battling men, and called out, "Halt!" The officers Van Dyke and deLeeuw obeyed their Governor's command, and separated the combatants.
"Let me at him!" Daniel panted, striving to free himself. "Leinme at that bastard! I'll teach him a lesson this time!" He gave the officers a mighty shove, and plunged towards his opponent.
