A Gentleman-at-Arms

The Third Part

Christopher Rudd’s Adventure in the Low Countries, and His Quaint Device of the Silver Shot

I

I could wish that I had been born somewhat earlier into the world, for then I had had no cause, in these my latter years, to feel shame for my country, nor to look into the future with any disquietude. This our England stood upon a pinnacle of renown and majesty that year when the Spaniards’ Armada was shattered by the winds of God and the shot of Sir Francis Drake. Queen Elizabeth went down to her grave in a blaze of glory; but in the reign of her successor the lustre of our name was dimmed. At this present the sky is black with clouds, and there is rumbling and muttering of thunder. Pray God our Ship of State may weather the imminent storm!

Chiefly I could wish to have been of an elder generation, because then I might have had a full share in that great struggle for liberty which our neighbours of the Low Countries long time maintained with stout heart against the Spaniard. I did, indeed, ply my sword in their behoof, among the voluntaries whom our queen suffered to engage in that service; but I came late to it, when a great part of the journey work was already done. Prince William, named the Silent, had fallen to the assassin’s knife while I was yet at school; and by the hand of that pattern of all princely virtues the foundations of the Republic had been well and truly laid. Yet had he bequeathed a vast heritage of toil to his son, Prince Maurice, whom I must hold to be the peerless instructor of this age in the art of war. By his side I dealt many a dint for freedom, and it would need a month of talking so much as to tell over the sieges and stratagems, the ambuscades and sharp encounters, wherein I bore my part with that worthy prince. But at the very beginning of my service there befell me a noteworthy adventure which I look back upon with a certain joyous contentment; and that I will relate, craving your patience.

In the autumn of 1593 I was sent for one day to wait upon my Lord Burghley at Cecil House in the Strand. I found him exceeding sick in body, with a look of death upon his aged countenance; but his mind was sound and firm as ever, and he laid his commands upon me with all his wonted clearness and precision.

I had but lately quit the service of His Majesty of France. The Queen, my mistress, bore so ill King Henry’s submission to the Roman Church as she could not endure the continuance of any of her servants in his employment. Thus I chanced to be for the nonce at large, and ready for the charge the Lord Treasurer committed to me.

Since the villainous treachery of Sir William Stanley and Sir Rowland Yorke in delivering the town of Deventer to the Spaniards, the Netherlanders had harboured a natural suspicion and distrust of the good faith of our English captains. Especially was there a present dread lest the town of Ostend should be betrayed by its English garrison. To clear our fame of this withering blight, the Queen had determined to admonish Sir Edward Norris, governor of that place, bidding him to keep a wary watch upon his captains and soldiers, to enforce them rigorously in their duty, and to hang up without remorse any that should be discovered in communication with the enemy. To this end she indited with her own hand a letter to Sir Edward, the which, together with his own formal despatch, the Lord Treasurer delivered to me for conveyance to Flanders.

This was a charge that jumped well with my inclination. I had no love for the soft air of courts or the mincing manners of a carpet knight, and having learnt from my Lord Burghley that, my errand being accomplished, the Queen would not stay me from serving Prince Maurice, I took passage very willingly in a hoy bound for Flushing, where I landed some time in the month of October.

It needs not to tell of my journey to Ostend and my meeting with Sir Edward Norris. Having delivered to him my letters, I departed as soon as with good manners I might, and, accompanied only by my servant, took my way to the camp of Sir Francis Vere, the principal general of our English levies since my Lord Leicester departed from the Low Countries. Sir Francis greeted me right boisterously, and put a troop of horse immediately at my command.

’Tis a matter well established that a man may have all the qualities of a captain and leader of men, and yet lack those higher parts that are requisite in a general. Sir Francis was in person the very image and model of a man of war. Of good stature, with a well-knit body and a princely countenance, his hair close-clipped and his brown beard spread spade-shaped upon his breast, he made a noble figure in his Milan corselet inlaid with gold and his ruff of point-lace. Bold and resolute in action, he was nevertheless heady, prone to anger, and full of whimsies, whereby in great affairs he was apt to be looked on with a certain mistrust, both in the council and in the field. I had not been long with him before I perceived that he entertained a most violent hatred and jealousy of Prince Maurice, and looked upon the Netherlanders with a sour contempt.

I learnt from him the posture of affairs in the Low Countries at that time. The Spaniards had of late taken sundry strong places of note, and were closely investing sundry others. Prince Maurice, being but ill provided, could do little towards the relief of those beleaguered towns, and while gathering strength thereto held himself mainly to the defensive. This loitering and idleness provoked Sir Francis to wrath, who would chafe and chide, and avouch that ’twould be profitable to the country if the whole breed of Nassaus were rid out of the way.

It chanced that one day I sallied forth with a handful of men towards a small city then besieged by the Spaniards, to discover if I might the strength and disposition of the enemy. For reasons that will presently appear I had liever not tell the true name of this place, but will call it Bargen.

We rode forth one misty afternoon, and picked our way not without trouble among the runnels and made watercourses wherewith that flat and marshy land abounds. Perceiving no sign of the enemy, I was tempted to approach more closely to their lines than consorted with prudence. As we rode by a narrow bridle path betwixt a patch of woodland and a field in stubble, on a sudden, from among the trees, cloaked in a measure by the mist, there sprang upon us a troop of corseleted horsemen. They had, I doubted not, got wind of my approach, and lain in wait under covert of the wood to cut me off.

Some of our fine gentlemen that showed their bravery at court were wont to boast that one Englishman was a match for five Spaniards; but such vainglorious brag is bemocked by those who, as I myself, have encountered those doughty warriors in the field. The Spaniard may be a paltry adversary on the seas, though even there I have met with some that were no mean fellows. Howbeit on land I found them valorous and redoubtable foemen, whom to despise would argue a pitiful ignorance and marvellous ill reckoning.

I had with me six or seven stout fellows, good swordsmen and well seasoned to war; but our enemy numbered a full score, who smote upon us like thunder and bore us down by sheer weight and fury. In my time I have been in many a sore strait and hazard, but never stood I in such jeopardy as when two of my men were cast headlong from their saddles and the Spaniards held the rest of us like rats in a trap. We had not time to wheel about and trust to the speed of our horses; the utmost that we could do was to back among the trees and play the man. There was a mighty clashing of steel upon armour as we gave stroke for stroke; but the enemy beset us vehemently, and had well-nigh encompassed us without hope of life, when, in the twinkling of an eye, there leapt from the depths of the wood a half-score of wild and unkempt figures, that flung themselves with exceeding heat and fury into the thick of the mellay, making marvellous quick play with their short knives, both upon the horses and the bodies of the Spaniards, at the joints of their harness.

This timely interposition put new heart into my stout fellows, who plied their swords with such manful resolution as made the Spaniards, already confused and baffled by the waspish newcomers, take thought for their safety and seek to draw out of danger. In short, within two minutes such of them as had not fallen betook themselves to flight, spurring their steeds every man in a contrary direction. My men in the fervency of victory made to pursue them; whereupon, being in no mind to be enticed further within the enemy’s lines, I halloed to them loudly to refrain. They reined up and cantered back to me, save one headstrong and reckless fellow, John Temple by name, who pressed hard on the heels of the rearmost Spaniard, and was soon lost to sight beyond the confines of the wood.

Very well content with this happy issue from our troubles, I turned about to see more clearly what manner of men were those that had wrought our deliverance. Their aspect and garb bespoke them as boors of the country, for they wore rough smocks, round fur bonnets, and breeches of wondrous largeness and of a blue colour; yet they had not on their feet the wooden clogs of use and wont, but went barefoot for swiftness. I was minded to offer them some recompense for their service, and being as yet too new in the country to have gained anything of their speech, I bade one of my men, who had been long among Netherlandish folk, acquaint them with my purpose. Whereupon a young man who had hitherto held himself backward and aloof, stepped forth, and addressing me in execrable French, said—

“Sir, we covet no reward, having done that which we have done in the service of our country, and for behoof of those that serve her also.”

Taking more particular note of this young man, I perceived that neither in favour nor in speech did he match the others of his company.

“Sir,” said I, “we are beholden to you. I would fain know your name.”

With some hesitancy he replied—

“Sir, call me Van der Kloof; ’twill serve as well as another.”

I gave him a hard look, to ensure that I might know him again; but having made it a rule of conduct never to pry or meddle with matters that do not concern me, I forbore further question. Whereupon the young man told me of his own accord how that he had lain in the wood for a good while, keeping watch on the Spaniards, our late adversaries, who had come from the direction of Bargen, and were going, as he thought, towards the camp of Verdugo, the Spanish governor. I got from him sundry informations concerning matters in Bargen, though not so much as I should have liked.

The hour was now growing late, and John Temple had not yet returned. I had thought that, when he found himself without support from us, he would ride back without delay, and his continued absence made me fear for his safety. Though by his stupidity or obstinacy he deserved no better than to fall into the hands of the Spaniards, I was loth to lose any man of my charge; accordingly, we rode warily some short distance after him. But when we found him not, we turned about and made towards our own camp, only desiring Van der Kloof, if he should meet with Temple, to bid him follow hard after us.

We were within a bowshot of our camp when Temple overtook us. His horse was in a great heat and foam, and the man himself was in a sorry case, having a great gash in his cheek, his morion gone, his doublet slashed and bedabbled with blood.

“How now, sirrah!” I cried to him as he rode among us. “Art deaf, that thou didst not hear my command, or a mere addle-pate, to go alone into the midst of a host?” And I rated him very roundly, I do assure you. The man said not a whit in his proper defence, but pled that being at the very heels of a Spaniard who had dealt hardly with him in the fight, he could not endure to leave him without giving him a Roland for his Oliver. The chase was longer than his expectation; and the Spaniard, seeing him persistent, on a sudden wheeled about and met him face to face. They two fought it out, and after a long and laboursome bout, whereof Temple bore many eloquent and grievous tokens, he overcame his adversary and made his quietus.

And then he displayed before me the spoils of this engagement, to wit, a fine Toledo blade; a belt of good Cordovan leather, the pouch filled with Spanish dollars; and a jewelled ring of gold. And when I had told him that he might keep these for himself, he brought forth from under his belt a strip of paper, and put it into my hand.

“This I espied, sir,” he said, “through a rent in the don’s doublet, and seeing there was writing thereupon, being no scholar myself, I fished it out for your worship’s perusal.”

Thinking ’twas some love billet that the hapless Spaniard had worn against his heart, I was in a manner loth to take it. But I bethought myself directly after that in time of war it behoves a man to suspect all and trust none, and in this mind I spread open the paper and bent my eyes upon it. And then I was not a little discontented at the meagreness of what I read. ’Twas nothing but a table of stores, writ in the Spanish tongue: so many tubs of powder, so many chests of the same, so many spare pikes, so many double bullets for the calivers, so many bullets for the matchlocks, so many round shot for the sakers and culverins—in truth, I did not read every article, being persuaded that the fellow from whom the paper was taken was some pitiful storekeeper, a man of no account. Yet I stowed it within my doublet, from a mere habit of prudence, and rode on, telling the man Temple jestingly that my share of the booty was paltry by comparison with his.

II

It was dark when I came to my lodging, and learnt from my servant that Sir Francis Vere, some while before, had sent to seek me. I made haste to attend the general, whom I found alone at his supper.

“Ha, Rudd,” he cried to me in his great voice, “I am glad to see thee, lad.” (He was but ten years my elder, but let that pass.) “How hast fared?”

I rehearsed very shortly the particulars of my excursion, and those few matters I had learnt of the Dutchman; but held my peace as touching the paper Temple had given me, deeming that to be of no moment. Sir Francis made me compliments on my good hap in coming off with a whole skin, and then, bidding me share his meal, pushed a letter over the table towards me.

“Read that,” said he, “and tell me your mind upon it.”

The letter, I found, was from Prince Maurice himself, concerning Bargen, the place from before which I had even now returned. The Prince was troubled in mind about its safety. It had been some two months besieged by the Spaniards, and he was as yet unable to stir towards its relief, being himself menaced by a greater force, the which he believed to be looking for some movement on his part thitherward, with the intent to fall upon him as he marched. The city had hitherto made a good defence, but there had come to his ears rumours of a weak-kneed party in the council, and he feared lest, as the labour and hardship of the defence waxed greater, the tottering loyalty of these burghers should fail utterly, and they deliver up their city into the enemy’s hands. In this strait he besought the aid of Sir Francis, requesting him to use all endeavours to save the place, chiefly by strengthening the hands of those burghers among the council that were still trusty and faithful.

“A murrain on him!” cried Sir Francis, as I set the letter down. “Why does he sit still, this Prince Do-Nothing? Did he strike a blow I would give him a mighty backing, but ’tis not in me to play the nurse, and cosset faint-hearts. He must seek another man for that job, one of his own slow Dutchmen, pardy!”

But it flashed upon me in a moment that the Prince had shown wisdom and discretion in seeking an Englishman for this part. I had learnt already that there was great jealousy between the several cities; each was in a manner a little republic; and the burghers of one city would be apt to look with ill-favour upon any man from another who should offer to teach them their duty. The like resentment would not be stirred up by an Englishman, more especially if he were commended to them as one expert in war and cunning in counsel. In this I thought Prince Maurice had done wisely, and so I told Sir Francis. He looked at me very sharply, fingering his beard, and then smote upon the table and cried with a great laugh:

“By the Lord Harry, thou art the man!”

I stared at him, at the first not understanding his intent. He laughed again, and said:

“Who so fit for this business as Master Christopher Rudd, expert in war, as witness his exploits with Henry of Navarre; cunning in counsel, as witness his lecture and admonition at this very table! You shall go into Bargen; you shall take in hand the instruction of the burghers; you shall strengthen the weak hands and confirm the feeble knees; a Daniel come to judgment!”

I did not relish his mockery, nor in any wise covet the office he would thrust upon me. But his laughter stung me to a great heat (though I showed it not), and, not counting the cost as an older man had done, I determined in my mind that I would do this thing, come of it what might. Whereupon, feigning to take him in merry mood, I smote upon the table likewise, declared ’twas a right royal jest, and vowed that on the morrow I would make my way privily through the enemy’s lines into Bargen, and instal myself tutor among the mynheers. Sir Francis applauded me, still in sport, not supposing that I had spoken soberly and in earnest.

When I came to reflect upon it in my own chamber I questioned whether I were not clean witless, for the task I had taken upon myself was fitter for a man well acquainted with these burghers than for a man raw and untried. Nevertheless, having put the halter about my own neck, I could blame none but myself if I was hanged withal, and from sheer pride of soul I was steadfast to my purpose.

Accordingly, the next day, without any more speech of Sir Francis, I went about quietly to get myself a trusty Dutchman who should guide me into Bargen. By good fortune I lighted upon a man that not only knew English, but had himself gone in and out of the city by a secret way, in despite of the Spaniards. In the dusk we set forth from the camp, with my servant, and rode to a lonely mill some few miles from Bargen, half ruined and burnt in a foray the year before. There we left our horses, which the Dutchman engaged to lead back to the camp, and went down to the river hard by, where, in a clump of rushes, we found his raft cunningly concealed.

It being now dark, we got upon the raft, and oared ourselves warily and in silence down the stream, until we came to a spit or nose of land that was at this season partly submerged and in winter-time wholly. Here we stepped ashore, being within a short bowshot of the Spaniards’ trenches. At this hour of the night none but the sentinels were stirring, and, as my guide well knew, the guard hereabout was negligent and unwary.

We crept softly as foxes toward the wall, and as we crawled up the glacis a voice challenged us, and I heard the click of a firelock. My guide made answer in a whisper, and immediately after two rope ladders were let down from the wall, upon which we nimbly mounted to the parapet. There we were confronted by a posse of the burgher guard, armed at all points, and my Dutchman presented me to their captain, saying, according to my instruction, that I was come on business of great moment from Prince Maurice.

The Captain would have led me instantly to the presence of the Burgomaster, but on my assuring him that my errand was not so urgent as that I should disturb that worthy gentleman’s rest so unseasonably, he offered to find me a comfortable lodging for the night. We went together, my servant following, through the dark and silent streets, the Captain telling me that I should lodge in the house of the widow of the late Burgomaster, who had been slain in a skirmish the year before. When I said that I was loth to intrude upon the lady at so late an hour, the Captain declared that Meffrouw Verhoeff would deem it in no wise an intrusion; indeed, he said that I should find a table ready laid, my hostess having a son among the guard for whom she watched on all those nights when he was abroad.

Within a little I found myself at the entrance of a house wherein a lamp shone. At the Captain’s knock the door was opened, and a voice asked, “Is it you, Jan?” the speaker not perceiving at the first who we were. The Captain presenting me as an envoy from Prince Maurice, and an Englishman, a soft hand caught mine, and drew me into the house, and I made my salutation to a little old lady, very comely and personable, with a widow’s cap and snow-white ruff, who greeted me in English and bade me very heartily welcome. She would hear no excuses upon the lateness of the hour; but led me into her parlour, then left me while she bestowed my servant, and returning, entreated me to do honour to the viands with which her table was sparely spread.

Mistress Verhoeff entertained me as I ate with many particulars of the siege. I was not long of discovering that her small body was the seat of a very fiery and unquenchable spirit; and in truth, while she spoke of the brave deeds done in defence of the city, her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled so that she seemed young again. There had been much suffering, she told me; but her folk had learnt to suffer, and of a surety could endure even more grievous afflictions than had yet befallen them.

At these words methought there was trouble in her voice, and I wondered whether she was aware of the rumours whereof Prince Maurice had made mention in his letter to Sir Francis Vere.

She spoke of her dead husband, and of her living son, who was this night on guard at the wall.

“Had his father but lived,” she said, “my boy had beyond question held great place, in the field or the council chamber; but now, alack! he trails a pike among the common men.”

While we were yet conversing, there was a step without, and a young man entered to us. He stood amazed to behold a stranger with his mother, but upon her making me known to him, he gave me a courteous salutation and sat himself at the board. Now I never lose the remembrance of a face once seen, and at the first glance I could have avouched that this young man was the same that did me service two days before. Yet the form of his countenance was something changed, and his apparel was wholly bettered, and when he made not the least sign that he knew me, I was tempted to doubt my memory had for once cozened me. We spoke of indifferent matters, and then, with the intent to put him to the test, I said bluntly—

“Sir, have you knowledge or acquaintance of one Mynheer Van der Kloof?”

“I know no man living of that name,” he answered me.

“I crave your pardon, sir,” said I, “but truly I would fain meet that same mynheer again, that I might renew my thanks for a timely service he rendered me.”

“What was that, sir?” the lady asked; and her son seemed to wait upon my words with mere curiosity.

I related my adventure of two days before, and my hostess averred that Mynheer Van der Kloof was no man of Bargen, seeing that neither was there any family of that name in the city, nor could any force of burghers have been without the walls, the place having been straitly invested for two months past. This in my secret thought I took leave to doubt, but I could not in courtesy urge my opinion, and we left speaking of the matter. Shortly thereafter the lady herself conducted me to my chamber, where I was soon comfortably established between the sheets, as white and fragrant as ever I slept in.

III

On the morrow, very early, I was waited upon by a sergeant come express to conduct me to the Burgomaster, whom the Captain of the Guard had informed of my arrival. I must acknowledge that in the cold and sober light of morning I felt myself to be in something of a pickle. I had announced myself as an emissary from Prince Maurice, but I had no letter of commendation in his hand, nor, in truth, had I so much as set eyes on him. Furthermore, I was a stranger to all in the city, and being little more than a boy,—my years were twenty-two, though, like Portia in Will Shakespeare’s play, I was elder than my looks—being little more than a boy, I say, I doubted of the reception I should meet with among the grave and solemn burghers of the city council. I could but trust to a bold front and mother wit to carry me through my enterprise, and I took some comfort from the reflection that Hollanders were said to be somewhat dull and heavy. Accordingly, having trimmed myself with exceeding care, and donned the fresh and sumptuous apparel, meet for an ambassador, which my servant had brought, I set forth with assured mien and measured gait, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left upon the gaping onlookers that had gathered in the streets.

Being ushered with much solemnity by the sergeant into the council-chamber, I found myself in presence of a round dozen burghers clad in brave attire, and seated at their table in order of precedency, as I judged. I cast a swift look round as I gave them salutation, at the first taking particular note of none but the Burgomaster at the head of the table, whose aspect tickled me with secret merriment. He was a round pursy little man, clean shaven, with double chins resting on his chain of office, and moist and vagrant eyes that did not meet my gaze steadily. I judged him to be pompous and self-conceited, withal of little stability of mind, and, as we say in our homely way, fussy. With hem and haw he addressed me in French, his voice being thick, and speaking as there were a pebble in his mouth.

“Sir, you come from the illustrious Prince Maurice of Nassau?” he said.

For answer I bowed.

“You bring a letter under his hand and seal?” he proceeded.

I hold that to speak truth is ever the best course; wherefore, attuning my voice to a confident serenity, I replied—

“Sir, I bear no letter, but I will in a few words explain to the worshipful council my presence in your city. His illustrious Highness, tendering your welfare, and moved by your stout and manful resistance to the Spaniard, hath writ to my General, Sir Francis Vere, requiring him to send to you one of his captains, both as a witness of his Highness’ satisfaction, and with the intent to lend you aid and support. The choice fell upon me, Christopher Rudd, unworthy though I be, by reason of some slight knowledge in warfare gained in the service of His Majesty of France. Such small skill as I am master of, therefore, is yours to dispose of, albeit the measures you have taken up to this present are so aptly conceived and so doughtily executed that I deem my part to be that of admirer rather than counsellor.”

This pretty speech appeared to give the burghers some satisfaction, but I perceived that the Burgomaster’s right-hand neighbour, a lank beetle-browed fellow of swarthy hue and Castilian cast of feature, shot me a keen and questioning glance out of his narrow eyes. “This fellow is worth the watching,” I thought; but I let not my eyes dwell upon him beyond the moment.

After some further debate I was made partaker in their deliberations. From one and another I gathered information about the course of the siege and the measures of defence they had concerted, and I was not long of discovering, by hint and suggestion, the rift that Prince Maurice had suspected. The most part of the council were true men, bold and stout of heart; but there were two or three that let fall doubts and wagged their heads, with sighs and doleful looks. And I began to perceive a certain method in this despondency, more especially on the part of the lank man aforesaid, for which reason I found myself intently observing all that he spake. He was most bitter and vehement in denouncing the Spaniards, and prated very big about withstanding them to the last breath; yet these heroical counsels of his were ever accompanied with a croak and quaver, as that famine was a fouler enemy than the sword, and that all those that escaped from the one or the other would surely be hanged by the Spaniards. By this means, I perceived, he at once cunningly magnified his own steadfastness and resolution, and instilled dire apprehension and dismal foreboding into the minds of his weaker brethren.

While I thus noted the strange policy of this man, I took a certain amusement from the mien and conduct of the worthy Burgomaster. Now he was at the top of resolution, now in the depth of black despair; now breathing out fire and fury, now lamenting the scant provision of victuals and munitions, and questioning whether any man’s life was worth a doit. The change from one mood to the other was so sudden, as the deliberations of the council swayed this way and that under the dexterous handling of the lank man, that I set the Burgomaster down as a weakling, a reed shaken in the wind, and made some question in my mind whether the destinies of the town were safe under his governance.

Upon the breaking up of the council, I was conducted by the Burgomaster and the Captain of the Guard around the defences of the city, being accompanied also by the lean and black-browed councillor of whom I have spoken. When I had taken note of all, it was dinner time, and the Burgomaster bid me make that meal with him in his own house. This I was very willing to do, since I found the little man a continual entertainment. The lank fellow and the Captain of the Guard were my table-mates, and we fared as handsomely as you could expect in a beleaguered city. In truth, it was not a sumptuous repast; but the meagreness of the fare was in some sort countervailed by the bewitching presence of the Burgomaster’s daughter. Remember, I was but young; a bright eye and a rosy cheek, when matched with a gracious mien and a sweet and tuneable voice, cast a spell upon me; and the fair beauty of Mistress Jacqueline had made amends for meaner fare, even for dry bread and indifferent water.

I perceived that the Burgomaster’s lanky friend bent an amorous eye upon the damsel, spoke her fair and softly, and sought every way to render himself pleasing in her sight; and that the Burgomaster watched this underplay with great contentment. But I perceived also—and I own it gave me a joy quite beyond reason—that Mistress Jacqueline received these attentions with a serene indifference, which I told myself would have been a positive coldness and scorn but for dread of her father’s displeasure.

We walked away together, the Captain of the Guard and I, and as we went I informed myself discreetly on sundry matters whereon I had some curiosity. The lean lank rascal—so I called him already—was named Mynheer Cosmo Volmar, a Spaniard on his mother’s side, president of the gild of locksmiths in the city, and keeper of the stores. He was known to be paying his court to Mistress Jacqueline, and had her father’s good will. The lady had, however, been betrothed aforetime to Jan Verhoeff, son of the late Burgomaster and of the widow lady, my hostess, and the match had been broken off by her father when it was discovered, on the death of Mynheer Verhoeff, that he had left but a paltry heritage. Of all the burgher families in Bargen, the Verhoeffs had suffered the most grievous loss during the war; yet the exceeding smallness of the late Burgomaster’s estate was a cause of wonderment in the city. The young lovers bore their parting very hardly; and though Mynheer Volmar’s suit was approved and furthered by her father Mynheer Warmond, the present Burgomaster, Mistress Jacqueline had as yet looked upon it but frostily.

These particulars were pleasing to me, for I saw that I had come into a coil wherein affairs of state and domestic matters were close interwoven. I was never so well pleased as when I had a tangle to unravel; and the enterprise I had taken upon myself in merry sport bade fair to give me unlooked-for entertainment.

IV

On the afternoon of that day, the Spaniards made a very hot assault at a breach in the wall hard by the north gate of the city. From the commencement of the siege this had been the chief mark of their ordnance, the which had cast upon it as many as a thousand shot a day. But the burghers had diligently repaired by night the mischief wrought in daytime, so that the damage was but small; and the assaults which the besiegers had already made upon the breach had been repelled with no great difficulty.

Nevertheless, on this day the attack was exceeding fierce. The Spaniards swarmed into the breach, and endeavoured mightily at push of pike to bear down our defences. Our burghers met them with heroical courage, and quit themselves well in the close fighting upon the wall. I was not sorry that the assault had been delivered so soon after my entrance into the city, for I had thereby occasion to win the good favour of the burghers by lending them aid, thereby getting me a shrewd knock or two. There was no question of generalship or high strategy; it was sheer journeyman fighting. In this I observed that the Captain of the Guard played a right valiant part, and I saw with a good deal of satisfaction that young Jan Verhoeff pressed ever into the thickest of the fray, and plied his pike with commendable spirit. The tide of battle carried me more than once to his side, and I marked his face alit with the joy of the true warrior. We beat back the invaders, though not without losing many of our ripest pikemen and calivermen, a heavy toll upon our success.

It had not escaped my observation that the city fathers were scarce so forward at this critical moment as loyalty and good example required. I saw neither the Burgomaster nor Mynheer Volmar, but I learnt that certain of the council had posted themselves very valiantly at such parts of the defences as were not at that time threatened. As I returned with Jan Verhoeff to his mother’s house I overheard two burghers speaking together of this witness to their rulers’ valiancy, and Jan shot a look at me that seemed to question whether I nourished doubts of the worthy fathers. I said nothing on that head, but spoke of the tough work we had been through, the which I hoped would discourage the enemy from attempting another assault for some time. I said too that since he must be very weary, he would be loth to serve among the night watch, whereupon he told me that he was free for that night, his turn of duty coming upon every second day.

I mention this because, in the middle of the night, as I lay cogitating a scheme I purposed to put next day before the Captain of the Guard, I heard the young man, whose room was beside mine, descend the stairs and go forth of the house. This circumstance caused me to wonder somewhat what his errand might be, for after the fatigue of the day it must be a thing of moment that could draw him from his bed. But being deeply concerned with matters of my own, I gave over thinking of him, and only remembered his going forth when I saw him pale and hard of eye at our breakfast in the morning. The good lady his mother asked if he had not slept well. “Passably,” he answered, and said no more, whereby I knew that, whatsoever his errand had been, it was to be kept secret from his mother.

I lost no time in seeking out the Captain of the Guard, to acquaint him with the fruit of my cogitations in the night. He had already confessed to me that he had but small training in the arts of war; wherefore, being already assured of his fidelity and of his doughtiness in fight, I had no squeamishness in offering him my counsel, which a more tried warrior might have taken amiss.

I first pointed out to him certain weak places in the defences of the city; to wit, the neighbourhood of a mill, where the city wall had not been strengthened because of some fancied assurance that the mill race was protection enough; and also the rampart by the church, where a thick clump of trees without the wall offered good cover to the enemy resolutely assaulting. The Captain was very quick to see these deficiencies when I had mentioned them, and perfectly ready to make them good.

From this I proceeded to a further matter.

“Sir,” I said to him, “your men did right nobly yesterday; yet methinks we should not be content merely with having beat back the Spaniards. To endue them with a true respect for us, and our men with a true respect for themselves, it needs to repay them in their own coin: I mean, to sally out and fall upon them unawares, at some convenient spot of their camp.”

He turned upon me a troubled countenance, and said—

“Sir, I doubt not of the soundness of your reasoning, nor of the good that would spring from a successful sally; but I question if we should prosper. My men are stout of heart, and behind their walls fight with sturdy resolution; but they are not bred to war, being in the main simple burghers that have taken up arms by mere necessity: and beyond the walls I fear lest their skill should not match with their courage.”

Whereupon I set myself with patience to overcome his diffidence, confirming my arguments with instances from the wars of King Henry of Navarre. Having brought him to my mind, we repaired together to the council chamber, where the council met every morning, and I laid my scheme before the assembled fathers, employing a rhetorical manner of exposition for which I was beholden to my study of Cicero his orations. The little Burgomaster took fire from my rhetoric, and, to my secret amusement, began to deliver himself of sundry fine sentiments in tune. He swore that, were he captain, he would do this and that, force a footing here and seize a place of vantage there, and smite those Amalekites (so he termed the Spaniards), even as Joshua, the son of Nun.

This was my opportunity. While his face was still red with warlike ardour, and the fumes of his valiance filled the air, I addressed him in words wherein I sought to infuse deference mingled with admiration.

“Worshipful sir,” said I, “happy is the city whose head is of so valorous and undauntable a spirit. With joy I hail you as leader of our foray, whom to follow will make me proud, as I doubt not it will make also the Captain of the Guard and every man of this devoted garrison.”

At this the Burgomaster bridled and looked round upon the councillors with an assured and dauntless mien. The eyes of the Captain of the Guard twinkled, but for me alone; and on the dark countenance of Mynheer Volmar I observed a sneer.

My plan was devised, in fact, to procure, if we could, a quantity of food from the Spaniards’ camp, such as, in our present dearth, would be exceeding acceptable. I advised that our attack should be made at dusk, when the enemy were cooking their evening meal, and upon that part of their camp where the cooking was chiefly done, if we might judge by the number of the fires in that quarter. It was also, as I had perceived, the quarter least amply defended, and most easily assailable from our side. By my scheme, a strong muster of the burghers should engage the attention of the Spaniards on the ramparts near the church, while an elect body of two hundred and fifty, with a support of equal number, should sally forth at the mill, fall swiftly upon the camp, lay hands on all that we could, and retire into the city under cover of the support.

I will not try your patience with relating in gross the history of this enterprise or of the many others, small and great, wherein I had a part while I sojourned in Bargen. I mention it for no other reason than because it was the first of those that I devised, of which some came to less happy issues, when the Spaniards grew more wary. In truth, my remembrance of the most of these is but dim, and this the first would hardly be so clear in my mind were it not close inmeshed with the behaviour of Mynheer Warmond the Burgomaster, who from that time established for himself a name for valour which his less courageous doings thereafter could not wholly dim.

For all his brave words at the council, when it came to the point the little man set forth sundry doubts in respect of his fitness to lead our sally. Being a man of full habit, and one that went heavily upon his pins, he feared lest his tardiness of gait should put a check upon us more nimble footers. Whereto I answered that, stayed up and furthered by two sturdy burghers of proved celerity, one on either side, and fired with his own lusty spirit, he would out of question not lag a yard length behind the nimblest of us. Whereupon he confessed that he was never equal to himself in the dark, and my answer was that he had but to keep his eyes steadfastly fixed on the lights in the Spaniards’ camp before him. In short, to every objection of this nature I had my answer ready, nor would I allow that we could have any assurance of success unless he were our leader.

’Twas falling dusk, and mirky, when, all things being ready, we issued forth of the gate in utter silence, the Burgomaster toddling with scant breath at my side. We made such haste as that we were nigh upon the Spanish trenches ere we were discovered. Having swiftly dispatched the few sentinels that held watch at this quarter, we sped over the trench and ran, as though ’twas a race for a prize, across the space of open ground that sundered it from the camp. Here there were but few of the enemy afoot, and they busied for the most part with cooking, the main of the force being gathered in front of the gate by the church, where the burghers had been mustered with blare of trumpet and tuck of drum to deceive them. These busy cooks, as soon as they espied us, took incontinently to their heels, sending up a great cry and clamour for help; whereupon some companies of the enemy, which had been standing to arms at no greater distance than two or three furlongs, came towards us at full stretch of legs, kindling their matches as they ran. I posted fourscore of our party to deal with them, while the rest of us made diligent perquisition in the enemy’s pantry. Thus we gained time enough to seize as much victual as we could carry, which done, at a blast of my whistle we turned our backs upon the camp and made all convenient speed towards our own walls.

Being cumbered with divers big and unwieldy burdens, even with making the utmost expedition we were not able to compass our safety before the vanward of the enemy burst upon us. With the fourscore men aforesaid, some pikemen, some arquebusiers, I held our rearward, having by me the worshipful Burgomaster, whom indeed I had been at pains to hold within reach. At our first coming to the camp, when the cookmen fled, the little Burgomaster was like to split with his heroical valiance and untameable fury. Crying havoc upon the Castilian dogs he brandished his tuck with no small peril to his own party. But when it came to plundering, his warlike ardour was assuaged in admiration of the flesh-pots. He caught up a long chain of bag-puddings, such as had not been seen in Bargen for many a day, and cast it in a merry sport about his neck, as it were insignia of his office. Then, still holding his tuck bare with his right hand, he seized with his left a monstrous hog’s ham, and so laden was ready to decamp with his booty.

The Spaniards hotly pursuing us, I perceived that the Burgomaster’s valour was now all melted away, and that he was beset by a shaking fear and trepidation. The ground over which we ran was exceeding rugged, and the little round man puffed and gurgled as he tripped upon hindrances, striving to keep pace with our covering party, but perilously encumbered by the dangling puddings and the massy ham. Beholding his plight, one of the burghers in mere kindness, or peradventure out of a licorous appetite, sought to aid him by relieving him of this part of his load; but the Burgomaster clung to it the more closely, protesting vehemently that he would not be robbed, and beseeching us to succour and sustain him.

Running thus in the twilight, he struck his foot upon a tussock of grass, and fell headlong, and lay groaning and shrieking for help, unable to rise by reason of his hands being engaged, the one with his sword, the other with the ham; for even in this extremity he clave manfully to his weapon, and covetously to his provender. I stayed my steps to lift him up, and by this delay saw myself overtaken by four or five of the Spaniards, who came about to overwhelm us. Summoning to me two of our pikemen that were happily within call, I faced about with them to beat off this attack upon our rear, knowing well that if we could not scatter them we must needs fly immediately for our lives, since we could hear the shouts of a numerous body hasting towards us from the camp.

At this pass did the Burgomaster achieve high and imperishable renown. The foremost of the Spaniards, charging full upon us, thrust out his sword towards the breast of Mynheer Warmond, and had surely then let out his life but that by good hap I interposed my own blade, and struck the Spaniard’s weapon from his hand. But the fury of his onset threw him clean upon the Burgomaster, who, letting his sword fall, but cleaving valorously to the ham, flung his arms about the Spaniard’s neck and brought him heavily to the ground. Behold then a spectacle whereat the gods might laugh; upon the ground a marvellous medley of legs, arms, bag-puddings and ham, out of which issued a most admirable discordance of Spanish and Low Dutch.

Being joined at this time by others of our party, we were able to hold the pursuers at bay while I sought to disentangle the Burgomaster from his adversary. This was no light achievement, for the little man, clasping his foe in strength of malice and with the tight embrace of one drowning, yet never loosing the ham, could scarce be persuaded that he was not in the article of death. Being at length put asunder, they were both got upon their feet, and we hurried them at a good round pace towards the wall. Here our supporting party was drawn up, the which directed a volley of bullets over our heads at the pursuers; and these being further discomfited by the shot from sundry culverins parked within the ramparts, the pursuit was checked, and we got safe within the city, having lost but two or three.

Right merry were the citizens at the success of our enterprise. Some ran to the church tower and set the bells a-ringing; others fired off cannon until the Captain of the Guard peremptorily forbade that wastage of powder. Our plunder was carried to the market square, and given in charge of an officer appointed to dispense it for the benefit of all. From this ordinance the Burgomaster’s ham and bag-puddings were exempt, they being considered meet and convenient rewards of his prowess; moreover, he straitly refused to give them up, and marched through the street in a glow of triumph, bearing proudly his spoils.

The Spaniard who had fallen victim to Mynheer Warmond’s puddings and ham was proved to be a captain of some note; and none having seen the manner of his capture save myself, who held my peace thereupon, the Burgomaster won great praise for that he had taken with his own hand, on the field of battle, one of the enemy’s captains. He showed himself a very glutton for applause, and I was careful to feed his appetite to the full, because I saw that, having this large conceit of himself, and a reputation to maintain, he was the less likely to become subject to the timorous and faint-hearted members of the council. A hero in his own despite, he vexed me often with his thrasonical airs and vainglorious trumpetings of his own virtue; but I bore with him, believing that in so doing I should best serve my cause.

V

For some while I have said nothing of Mynheer Volmar, not because he holds any lesser place in this history, but because he had no part in the enterprise that I have just recounted, the which nevertheless concerned him dearly, as you shall see.

Mynheer Volmar had spoken of our enterprise as a hair-brained adventure, the device of a very madman, and a mere courting of disaster. A prophet, whether of good or ill, likes not that his predictions should belie and mock him; and Volmar, when his prophecies fell out so wide of the mark, looked upon me, the begetter of the design, ever more sourly than he was wont. And when the Burgomaster at our next council leant rather upon my opinion than upon the opinion of his familiar, I perceived by some sixth sense, as it were, that Volmar entertained a violent ill-will against me, albeit he was at great pains to cloak his hatred under a guise of careless indifferency.

For this reason I deemed it fitting to improve my knowledge of that councillor. I learnt from my friend, the Captain of the Guard, that Volmar was well-reputed in the city, having much goods laid up, and yet being open-handed. He was charged with keeping the stores of munition and with the defence of a certain portion of the walls, and was very diligent in these offices. It was his custom, every Sunday forenoon about nine of the clock, that day and hour having been commended to him by one well skilled in astrology, to fire off a culverin upon the Spaniards from the parapet of his own ward. The Captain of the Guard, upon my asking what purpose might be served by this quaint device, assured me with great gravity that, a shot being fired at a moment shown as propitious by the conjunction of the planets, the Spaniards would never stir that day, and the burghers might pay their devotions in church without fear of disturbance. I marvelled at so strange a mingling of heathenish superstition with Christian piety, but I forbore to speak my mind upon it, deeming every man entitled to believe as he listeth.

On the night but one following our sally I was returning at a late hour, and alone, from making a round of the defences. When I came near the house of Mistress Verhoeff, where I still made my lodging, I heard the scuffling of a hurried footstep, and espied, though dimly, a man slinking into a narrow alley upon the further side of the street. I saw this, without considering it; and I might have thought of it no more but that I heard my hostess’ son stealthily quit the house maybe an hour after. Then putting the one thing with the other, I began to wonder, and cogitate, and question whether there were not something in the wind. It came into my mind that the man I had seen afore had been disturbed at my coming, and slunk away to escape me; and I began to suspect that Jan Verhoeff and he were partners in some secret night work, I knew not what.

I was in my own room, but not yet abed; and, smelling a matter for inquiry, I crept down the stairs, carrying my boots, and these I donned at the door, and then followed the young man up the street. I had taken but a few steps when I was aware that two figures were in front of me, the one dogging the other close like a shadow. They were proceeding towards the walls, to that place where a breach had been made and was now repaired in part. The sky being clear and bright with stars, I held the two men in sight until they came near the breach aforesaid, where the foremost vanished away, and the latter stood fast, at some little distance, as he were keeping watch. So did I likewise. There I stayed some while, until the man, as though weary of waiting, turned about and walked back by the way he had come, and then, with the intent that I might see him more closely, I hid myself behind a jutting mass of masonry which the man must needs pass by.

I was now able to perceive, as he came towards me, that he was lofty of stature, and, passing me within a yard or two, his gait seemed to me to be that of the lanky councillor Mynheer Volmar. This was a whet upon my curiosity, for I weened it strange that this man should be spying upon his vanquished rival, whom in the fallen state of his fortunes he had no cause to fear as pretender to the hand of Mistress Jacqueline.

When he had gone beyond earshot, I took my way to the wall, and there I was immediately challenged by the sentinel. On my giving the word the man recognized me, and made me a decent salutation. I inquired of him whether he had taken note of any strange movement or stirring among the Spaniards, or of any roaming person on our side of the wall; and he declared that neither on the one side nor the other had he seen aught, nor any person save only the sentinel next to him on the defences. Whereupon I returned to my lodging, not a little perplexed.

On my descending next morning to break my fast with Mistress Verhoeff as my custom was, I found the good dame in sore affliction and distress. It had just been told her that her son was at that time lying a prisoner in the bailey, having been seized in the middle of the night by a posse of halberdiers. It was charged against him, so ’twas reported, that he was a spy for the enemy; for he had been discovered making his way over the wall, and being searched, papers were found upon him that gave colour to this accusation.

This news, following so sudden on what I had seen overnight, set my wits a-jogging, and I began to smell a rat, as we say. But my consideration of the matter was broken in upon by the piteous outcry of my hostess, who with many tears and lamentable entreaties besought me to save her son. She declared that the young man’s honesty was beyond impeachment; that it was some monstrous error; that he was a true man, like his father before him; and when I asked what had taken him abroad at so unseasonable an hour, on a night when his duty did not call him to the ramparts, she protested that some enemy must have lured and enticed him forth, of set purpose to undo him. I gave her my honest opinion that the young man was innocent, and engaged to do what I could on his behalf, yet owning that I was at a loss what means I might conveniently take.

After some deliberation I determined that I must first visit the prisoner, and inquire for myself into his case. To this end I repaired to the Burgomaster, by whose allowance alone would the gates of the bailey be opened to me. I was not overmuch astonished when he denied my request, averring that the young man was a villainous rascal, whose guilt was manifest, and whom he would assuredly hang as a warning to all traitors. By this I perceived that the Burgomaster had judged the prisoner aforehand, the reason whereof was his established misliking. In my course through the world I have oft-times observed that a man that has wronged his neighbour will scarce pardon him; and I held that the Burgomaster had done the lad a wrong in crossing his love for no cause save a worldly misfortune that time might cure. I made bold to inform Mynheer Warmond that in my country a man is held to be innocent until he is proved guilty; and then I was not a little incensed when he, shifting his ground, roundly declared that the less I meddled with this matter the better for me. There were already whispers against me, he said, and the having taken up my abode in the widow’s house would incline some to suspect that I was privy to the son’s iniquity. Indeed, he counselled me to seek a new lodging without delay.

At this I could scarce hold my patience; but reflecting that angry words could avail me nothing, having also a shrewd notion as to the fountain-head whence this slander and calumny sprang, I swallowed my wrath, and by dint of coaxing and wheedling got from the Burgomaster the authority I sought. So armed, I hasted to the bailey, and being admitted, found the young man herded with as pretty a set of rogues as ever I saw. The warder gave me leave, after the passing of a trifle of money, to speak with the prisoner in a room apart, and thither we betook ourselves.

Now I did not love Mynheer Jan Verhoeff. We had had little communication; in truth, he shunned me, and when we met at table he seldom opened his lips save only to engulf his food, whereby I had come to look upon him as a morose and lubberly fellow. Furthermore, I misliked his goings and comings secretly by night, and his denial of the service he had done me; for I was firmly persuaded that Verhoeff and Van der Kloof were one and the same. Wherefore, when we were closeted in that little room of the bailey, and he opposed a sullen and stubborn silence to my proffer of help, I was ready to wash my hands of his affair and let him hang. But remembering the widow lady his mother, and bethinking me that his ungracious bearing perchance were nothing but the austerity of an honest man wronged, I curbed my impatience and set myself to reason with him.

I showed him how his secret sallies by night, whatsoever their purpose might be, must needs breed suspicion in the minds of those burdened with the defence of the city, and that if his intent were honest, to reveal it could at the least work him no harm. And, hinting that I myself harboured certain suspicions, the which he might aid me to resolve, I at length prevailed upon him to make full confession and disclosure. And this is what he told me.

Being near the Burgomaster’s house one evening (for what purpose I forbore to inquire), he had seen Mynheer Volmar issue forth, and, instead of making straight for his own house, stand a while looking heedfully around, and then proceed towards the ramparts, in the furtive manner of one that avoids observation. Bearing him ill-will as his supplanter in the graces of Mistress Jacqueline, and suspecting he knew not what, Verhoeff dogged him circumspectly to the wall, and there beheld him sit upon a culverin and gaze intently towards the trenches of the enemy. A sentinel was pacing up and down, and to him Volmar addressed a few words in a whisper, whereupon he stood fast, and Volmar hastened to the embrasure of the parapet. Immediately thereafter, Verhoeff caught the sound of a low whistle, followed eftsoon by a faint answer, as it were an echo, from below. Then Volmar drew some white thing from his pocket, wound a cord about it, and, as it appeared to Verhoeff, let it down into the moat. In a little there came again a dull and hollow sound, and Volmar withdrew himself and returned into the city, murmuring a word to the sentinel as he passed.

On the morrow Verhoeff took pains to inform himself of the name of the sentinel at that place, and was not astonished to find that he was of Mynheer Volmar’s household. In that time of trouble every man, whatsoever his rank and condition, had his part in the city’s defence.

From that day Verhoeff kept diligent watch upon the councillor, and discovered that he hied him stealthily to the ramparts every Wednesday, and in like manner let down what was doubtless a paper, the which was received by a man in the moat beneath, and conveyed by him, swimming, to the further side.

Here was treason, of a surety. Verhoeff debated with himself whether he should broach it to the Captain of the Guard or the Burgomaster; but he bethought him that he had not as yet sufficient proof, and that, moreover, the charge might be set down to the spleen and malice of a beaten rival. Wherefore he determined to hold his peace until he had gotten some clear and manifest proof of the treason he suspected.

One Wednesday night, therefore, he slid into the moat, and swam to the other side, intending to lie in wait for the receiver as he returned with the letter, and wrest it from him. But making wary approach to the spot over against the gun whereon Volmar was wont to sit, he was nonplussed to find three or four Spanish footmen, awaiting their comrade. Verhoeff kept himself close until the swimmer joined them, and then, recking nothing of his peril, followed the party as they stole silently back to their lines. While they jested with the sentinel that challenged them, he crept into the camp, and watched in secret what should befall. The footmen proceeded together a few paces; then all but one turned aside, they bidding him good-night, and he continuing on his way towards a large tent, the which, after a brief parley with some one within, he entered. Verhoeff swiftly stole to the back side of the tent, designing to cut a hole in the wall and spy upon what was done; but a light shone from beneath a flap in the canvas, which raising, he beheld a man in shirt and hose sodden with water, standing before another in a long night-robe, who was reading by the light of a candle a paper which had beyond doubt been brought by the swimmer from the city. Having finished his perusal, this man said—

“Good. Our friend within is diligent. To-morrow you will convey this to the Lord General Verdugo. Take your accustomed party, and have a care, for this paper must not miscarry; I know what a lusty fire-eater you are.”

The swimmer laughed and made a salutation, and so departed.

Verhoeff itched to lay hands on that paper, yet durst not follow the man through the camp. But a device came into his mind whereby he might perchance obtain it. He crept and wriggled out of the camp, which was not guarded so needfully as it behoved to be, and when he was beyond the outward trenches he betook himself with all expedition, not to the city, but towards a hamlet where his father had held an estate in the days of his prosperity. There he gathered half a score of trusty men that would serve him faithfully for his father’s sake, and with them took post in a wood which the Spaniard must pass next day when he carried the paper to his general. And ’twas by the happy accident of his lying in wait there that he was able to render me service that day. In despite of the captain’s warning, the messenger was tempted by the smallness of my party to attack us, whereby Verhoeff’s plan to seize upon the letter was discomfited, for my plight made him show himself sooner than he had intended.

Being foiled, then, and baulked of his purpose by the Spaniards’ flight, he was fain to wend his way back to the city, and entered it at dead of night by a secret way known to him. At my appearance on the morrow thereafter he was somewhat discommoded, being desirous that his doings should not be published among the burghers, and yet too high-stomached to entreat my silence. Hence he sought to brazen it out with me, and had since held himself aloof.

From that time he kept a most vigilant watch upon Volmar’s doings, by night and day; and it seemed that his patience would be rewarded, for on this last night, having swum the moat, he had found the Spaniard, that was go-between, unattended, and after a fierce struggle had overcome and slain him. Searching among his garments he discovered a leathern pouch, the which, on his slitting it, yielded up a paper. This he bestowed in his pocket, and crossed the moat, but upon climbing the parapet fell clean into the hands of a party of the burgher guard, drawn thither either by the sound of his struggle with the Spaniard, or, as seemed more like, placed there advisedly by Volmar.

While he stood among his captors, protesting and almost persuading them that he was a true man and no traitor, Volmar himself appeared and feigned great astonishment to see him. One of the guard related the cause and manner of the arrest, whereupon the councillor declared roundly that there had been some error, and proposed that the matter should be put to the proof by searching Verhoeff. This being done, the letter was brought to light, the which Volmar then tore open and read by the aid of a dark lantern. He put on a grave and sorrowful look, and gave the letter into the hand of the officer of the guard, and he likewise read it, and immediately cried out that Verhoeff was proved a villainous traitor. Upon this Verhoeff in a fury declared that he had wrested the letter from a Spaniard who had brought it from the city, and from Volmar himself, a saying that provoked a burst of scornful laughter from the officer of the guard and a look of pity from the councillor. The officer commanded that he should be instantly conveyed to the bailey and placed under a strong guard, and Volmar bestowed the letter in his doublet, avouching that he would lay it before the Burgomaster and council on the morrow.

This was the story in brief as Verhoeff told it to me, and I made no doubt he spoke the truth. But I saw that in youthful heat and imprudence he had committed a grievous error in launching an accusation against the councillor, more especially because he was wholly ignorant of what the letter contained; he had not read it, nor had it been read aloud. Moreover, the secrecy and stealth of his own deeds, the quitting of the city without leave asked, gave strength to the suspicion and mistrust of the officer of the guard. Yet I confessed that in my heart of hearts I did not doubt Volmar was a villain and had entrapped Verhoeff for his own ends; but how to bring his villainy home to him, when he held all the cards, as we say, it outdid my wit to determine.

Nevertheless I engaged myself to do all that in me lay on behalf of the young man, and bidding him be of good cheer I betook myself to the council chamber, where the matter would without doubt be deliberated upon.

VI

The burghers were in full session when I entered the chamber, and I perceived that thunder was in the air. At my entrance they cast very lowering looks upon me; there was some whispering among them, and the Burgomaster shot me a crooked glance, and seemed to return a mute answer to something that Volmar, his neighbour of the right hand, had just said. Feigning blindness to these signs and tokens of trouble, I moved with easy gait to my place at the table, cast my hat upon it, and inquired of the Burgomaster what was the news of the day.

“Sir, sir,” said the little man, his pendent chin shaking like the wattle of a turkey-cock, “this levity ill beseems you. You are aware that we have a traitor in our midst, a viper warmed in our bosom; you have even now come from speech with him. I pray the villain has confessed his sins.”

“Why no, Mynheer,” I said smoothly, “the villain is impenitent, and professes that he has done nought save in love and loyalty to the city. Surely the good repute of his family might dispose you, sirs, to hesitate before you condemn him unheard.”

“His family, his family!” stuttered the Burgomaster, whom I perceived to be in his most exalted and arrogant mood. “Hold, sir; peruse this epistle, and say then whether he be not deserving of the extreme penalty.”

The letter came to me by the hands of the six or seven councillors that sat between me and the Burgomaster, of whom some scowled, some glared, some looked compassionately upon me. I took the paper and cast an eye upon it, and immediately I understood that Jan Verhoeff was in even worse case than I had supposed. ’Twas a very brief epistle, with no superscription nor any signature at the end, written not by any man within the city, but by an enemy without. It warned the nameless receiver that the customary messenger having been slain, by Dutch peasants as ’twas thought, and his dispatch stolen, the last message had not come to the general’s hand; but the writer opined that the city could not endure many days longer, and urged the receiver to employ all his arts upon he knew whom, and furthermore to certify that person that when by his good offices the city should be delivered up, his goods should be spared to him, with a share of the general booty.

“Sir,” said the Burgomaster, when I had read the letter, “you behold a manifest proof of the traitor’s villainy. He sends word of our hapless state to the enemy; he employs cunning machinations upon some ill-affected person in our city; he is sowing treason in our good field.”

I made bold to say that there was no proof of the letter having been intended for Mynheer Verhoeff, whereupon he bade me look upon the cover, and when I did so I perceived, very faintly inscribed there, the letters J.V.

As I was considering this, suspecting that those letters had been inscribed upon the paper since it was wrested from Verhoeff, Mynheer Volmar spoke. He said that, clear though the testimony seemed to be, he would plead for mercy for the young man. His fortune being so much diminished from that whereto he had been born, he had without doubt been put to a fierce temptation. “And since,” he proceeded, “I myself suffer at his hands, inasmuch as he sought to cast suspicion on me, whose whole concern is the welfare of the city, I may most fitly raise my voice in beseeching my brethren to remember the services rendered in time past by the young man’s father, and, mindful of them, to deal mercifully with the son; not to bring him to trial and put him to open shame, but to hold him safe in ward while the city is still compassed about, and then to banish him without scandal to the common weal.”

Perceiving the drift of this, and divining that Volmar had his own good reasons for cloaking the matter, I said with some bluntness that ’twas time to show mercy when guilt was proved. Volmar took me up insolently, declaring that I had no right nor title to speak on such a matter, and that being a stranger, come among them uncommended, and a house-mate with this abandoned traitor, I had best walk warily and manage my tongue, lest I found my own neck in jeopardy.

At this discourse, and the murmurs of approval that broke from certain of the councillors, I was pricked to indignation, and might have said more than wisdom warranted had not the Burgomaster, plainly ill at ease, interposed himself as peace-maker. I had reason to bless his intervention, because I was thereby hindered from saying in my haste that which I should assuredly have repented at my leisure. For it happened that the Burgomaster calling for the next business, Volmar brought forth the list of stores that it was in his duty to lay before the council every week. This he read out, the councillors harkening with gloomy countenances to the tale of diminished victuals and munitions of war. When he had made an end, the document strayed about the table, and presently came to the hand of the burgher next me, who held it in such manner that I was able to see it clearly. And then within my soul I cried blessings on the Burgomaster, in that he had checked my tongue, for so soon as my eyes fell upon this paper, I knew in a moment that the handwriting was the same as that upon the paper which John Temple had taken from the Spaniard, and which I had, even now, folded in my pocket.

I veiled my eyelids, lest my eyes should betray the joy of my discovery, for this did not rob me wholly of my caution, and I knew that I must first satisfy myself beyond doubt that the writings were the same. This could only be achieved by setting the two papers one against the other for comparison, and I saw not any means of doing this secretly. But within a little, chance gave me the opportunity I sought. The councillor that had the paper set it down upon the table, and joined with the others in talking of the trial to which Jan Verhoeff was to be brought on the morrow. While they were thus engaged I laid my hand upon the paper, and possessed myself of it; then, affecting a perfect indifference to the matter of their discourse, I rose from my place and went to the window, and there, turning my back upon the company, I drew from my pocket the paper John Temple had given me, and set it side by side with the other for just so long as sufficed me to compare them, and prove the writings to be in the selfsame hand. Which done, I took a turn about the chamber, and coming in due time to my place I laid the second paper where it had been before, and soon after departed.

I saw myself now deeply engaged in a matter after my own heart. “’Tis Time’s glory,” saith Will Shakespeare, “to unmask falsehood and bring truth to light”; and here was I a fellow-worker with Time. I considered within myself what course I should take. I might at once make disclosure of my discovery; but Volmar was so slippery a fellow that I might easily trip unless I had some further evidence of his villainy to lay before the council. Without doubt he would have ready some plausible explanation, the which might recoil upon me, being a stranger and one not held in high esteem. I resolved therefore to bide my time and say nought until I had my evidence all compact—unless indeed Jan Verhoeff were in extremity of peril.

The young man was brought to trial at the time appointed. I was not present in court, deeming it best to hold aloof until I could employ my apparatus to good effect. The only testimony that I myself might have given, touching the charge made against Verhoeff, was that I had seen him steal to the walls by night with Volmar at his heels, and this could not have turned to his favour. The evidence against him was so slight and thin-spun, that in time of peace, and before a just tribunal, it would not have been held sufficient to hang a dog; but his present judges being the magistrates of the city, with the Burgomaster as president, and all men’s minds being sore troubled about the city’s welfare, the verdict was given against him, and he was sentenced to be hanged on the tenth day thereafter.

The news was brought to me in my room by the young man’s mother, who was utterly broken with grief and shame. She had never a doubt of his innocency, and besought me with many tears and supplications to save him. I had much ado to refrain from giving her positive assurance that her son should not die; but I deemed it better for my purpose that she should suffer ten days of suspense and anguish than that we should come under any suspicion by reason of her serenity and ease of mind. I put her off, therefore, with unsubstantial words of comfort. But my policy was undone that same evening, for about the hour of supper there came to the house a female figure close enshrouded in hood and cloak; and asking speech with me, she was admitted to the chamber wherein I sat with the widow lady, and casting off her hood revealed the wan, sorrowful face of Mistress Jacqueline, the Burgomaster’s daughter.

“Oh, sir,” she cried, flinging herself upon her knees and clasping her hands piteously, “oh, sir, save my lover! My father condemned him, but he is, I know, the cat’s-paw of wicked men. Sir, I beseech you, save my lover!”

I raised her up, and my resolution utterly melted away. I did for the sweetheart what I had refused to do for the mother, assuring her that Jan Verhoeff should not die, I myself would prevent it; but it was necessary, for the due punishment of those that conspired against him, that none should so much as guess at anything being adventured on his behalf. At this the women were mightily cheered, but the widow bore me a grudge in that I had before withheld this solace from her; and I cannot say but that I deserved it.

I had no certain plan for establishing the treason of Mynheer Volmar; but I was resolved to keep a close watch upon him, deeming it likely that in mere self-confidence he would take a false step. While with exceeding care I held myself in the background, I contrived to learn all that was requisite about his doings. On Sunday I made one of the throng of spectators that witnessed his discharge of a single shot upon the Spanish lines, the which, as the Captain of the Guard had told me, was the charm whereby the city was protected for that day. I observed that the shot was brought from the store by Volmar’s own servant; Volmar himself loaded the culverin, trained it, and set the match to the touch-hole. The burghers, with their wives and children, looked on as at a mystery, and when the shot fell upon some loose earth near the trenches, casting up a cloud of dust, they nodded and smiled, and some clapped their hands; and then they all went forthwith to church, Volmar leading the way.

I was on the point of following them, thinking no little scorn of such mummery as I had just witnessed, when, on casting my eye over the parapet, I observed a Spaniard move slowly towards the spot where the ball had fallen. He stood for a brief space as if contemplating the effect wrought thereby, and then returned within the camp.

Now there was something in the Spaniard’s mien that bred a certain doubt in my mind. He had moved slowly, in the manner of a loiterer; and if this was the true measure of his interest, why, I questioned within myself, had he issued from the trenches at all, to observe the spot where a ball had fallen harmlessly, as one had fallen many a Sunday before? His demeanour was not that of a man truly curious. I sought in my mind for some likely explanation of his strange action, and the more I thought upon it, the more puzzled and suspicious I became. But there was nothing to be done on the instant, so I spoke to the sentinel on the parapet, bidding him acquaint me if he saw any further movement among the Spaniards, and then I found the Captain of the Guard, whom I asked to issue the same command to the men that should keep watch in turn for the rest of the day.

At eventide, nothing having been reported to me, I resolved to go forth myself so soon as it became dark and examine the place where the shot had struck. It was an enterprise, I knew, that stood me in some danger, for I might be captured by the Spaniards, or by the burgher guard on my return, and this would bring me under suspicion, and was like to land me in the selfsame nobble as that wherein Jan Verhoeff already lay. I thought for a while of securing myself by acquainting the Captain of the Guard aforehand with my purpose, but seeing that I could have given him no reason for it save by making a clean breast of my suspicions, the which I was loth to do, I held my peace, resolving to take my risk.

Jan Verhoeff had disclosed to me, when I spoke with him in the bailey, the means whereby he had left the city. In the repairs that had been made hastily in the wall battered by the enemy, timber had been employed, and at one place there were two massy logs with a narrow space between, through which he had squeezed himself, and so come within a few spans of the moat. Thither I made my way by a roundabout course as soon as it was dark, and, choosing a moment when no sentinel was within hearing, I slipped into the moat, having left my boots at the foot of the wall, and swam across as quietly as an otter might have done.

On coming to the other side I bent my body low, and crept towards the Spanish lines, holding my dagger in my right hand. I had observed that the shot fell within a short space of the end of a garden wall which had been almost razed to the ground by the burghers’ shots in the first hot days of the leaguer. To the right of this stood the stump of a tree. These were my landmarks, for the shot had come to earth somewhere between the tree and the end of the wall. In the darkness I could not hope to see the pit that the shot had made, but must find it by the touch of my feet.

I crept along by the wall, noiseless in my stockings, and coming to the end of it, bent myself yet lower and groped towards the tree. This I attained without having made any discovery, whereupon I turned about and went back, taking a course somewhat nearer to the moat, and so came again to the wall, having discovered nothing. Yet once more I sought the tree, now choosing a course nearer to the trenches, in which direction I heard the dull murmur of voices, yet not so near as to cause me any present disquietude; and so I groped along the ground until I came to a little hollow, where I halted, thinking it a likely place. There I dug away the earth with my hands, making no more noise than a mouse, and anon my fingers struck upon something hard and cold and round, the which, after a little more digging with hands and dagger, I unearthed, and found to be a round shot, as I had hoped. With this in my hands I stole along towards the shelter of the wall.

Hardly had I come there when I heard voices, somewhat louder than those I had heard before, and immediately after footsteps, coming towards me. I dare go no farther, but crouched behind the brickwork, which was no more than three spans high, holding my breath, and peering over the jagged edge of the wall. And I beheld three men as black blots moving in the darkness towards the very spot I had lately left. One of the three held a dark lantern, by whose light, turned from the city, the others began to search the ground. I heard them utter words of satisfaction when they came to the hole, and then I could not forbear chuckling, for the men, probing with their pikes, and finding nothing, let forth cries of astonishment, together with an oath or two. They consulted one with another, and one proposed that they should search around; but this the man that held the lantern scouted, declaring that he had no manner of doubt the place where they then stood was the end of their quest. Nevertheless his comrades prowled and probed, now to the right, anon to the left, and once came so near me that I gripped my dagger tight, ready to buy my safety with good steel. But they withdrew, and stood for some while talking together of this strange thing, and presently gat them back to their trenches, in marvellous puzzlement.

Thereupon I crept back to the moat, carrying the shot, and having swum across and recovered my boots, the which I could not pull over my wet stockings, I clambered up between the balks of timber, looked about to certify myself the coast was clear, and hastened by the same circuit to the widow’s house.

There my servant was in wait for me, according to my bidding. I took him to my room, and setting the round shot before him, commanded him to examine it. He was a handy fellow, and had the rudiments of more trades than one. It was not long before he discovered, in the surface of the iron, a knob or boss, exceeding small, the which being touched, a narrow channel was revealed, wherein lay a short tube of the thickness of a finger.

“’Tis good locksmith’s work, sir,” he said with admiration, putting the tube into my hand. I looked therein, and discovered a small roll of paper, the which, upon my spreading it out, I saw was covered with writing in the Spanish tongue, and in the very hand of Volmar, but with no name either at head or at foot. I read the writing with a vast curiosity and eagerness, and what I read was this—

“The victuals will last but one week longer. One of my foes will be hanged; the Englishman I go about to remove. Attack the wall over against the market. I vouch that in ten days the city will yield.”

Here was proof of as pretty a piece of villainy as the mind of man could conceive. Verhoeff was to be hanged; I myself to be removed; the wall over against the market was that which the Burgomaster had in charge, and the attack was to be directed thereupon with the intent to harass him and bring him to a frame of mind meet for surrender. A pretty plot indeed, and one that I rejoiced to have the means of circumventing.

I dismissed my servant and sat myself down to consider my ways. ’Twas necessary to my purpose that Volmar should be utterly confounded. I could brook no chance of his wriggling out of the full exposure of his guilt. Wherefore it seemed to me inexpedient that I should at once carry the traitorous letter to the council, for he had many friends therein, whom he might easily persuade that the writing was but a cunning imitation of his own, done by myself out of the despite and enmity I bore him; nor indeed could I explain how I had come by the paper, but by owning that I had gone from the city without authority, a thing he would find means to twist to my disadvantage. The end of my cogitation was that I resolved still to bide my time, not doubting that within the week something would happen to point my road clearly.

When I went abroad next day I perceived that black care had seized upon the people. The scarcity of victuals was known of all, and as the meaner folk felt the pinch of hunger more dearly they broke forth into murmurs and complaints. Dark looks were cast upon me as I took my way to the council chamber, and still darker met me there. Mindful of Volmar’s intent to have me removed, I looked for some instant charge to be brought against me, as though I were a Jonah in the city; but nought was said openly, and I concluded that I must be on my guard against some secret machination—a knife in my back, or a stray bullet did I but show myself upon the ramparts. I was heedful, therefore, that day and the days succeeding, to go only in the middle of the street, and to keep within the house after nightfall, not deeming it any mark of valour to jeopardize the happiness of three good folk and the safety of the city by running into any needless danger.

As day followed day, I became aware that the people’s discontent and queasiness was being fomented by the agents of Volmar, though that two-faced villain was most fervent, at the meetings of the council, in admonishing the burghers to endure to the end. Day after day the Spaniards plied their artillery upon the walls, chiefly upon that portion where the Burgomaster was in charge of the defences. The masonry was sore battered, many of the burghers were slain or maimed, and the Burgomaster himself, who endeavoured still to sustain the reputation he had achieved in that night sally, was struck upon the elbow by a fragment of stone, whereby the little man was afflicted more heavily in mind than in body. In his one ear, so to speak, Volmar whispered counsels of despair under a mask of encouragement; in the other I spoke words of comfort and good cheer, assuring him that, could he but resist a little longer, Prince Maurice would come to his succour, as he had promised. My influence, I knew, was sapped by Volmar’s guileful insinuations, and I could not doubt that finally I should be worsted unless I could prove Volmar to be the traitor he was.

As the straits of the citizens waxed more grievous, secret messengers were sent forth, to implore aid of Sir Francis Vere and of Prince Maurice; but these men never delivered their messages, as was afterwards discovered, and doubtless Volmar had found means to acquaint the Spaniards with their errand, albeit by means that never came to light. Though I kept as good a watch upon him as I could, and my servant did likewise, we could not find him out in aught that would give us a handle against him, and with the passing of time I grew discomfortable in mind, fearing lest Jan Verhoeff’s ten days’ respite should slip away before I had my proofs ready. And I was the more uneasy because I perceived that the ill-will of the burghers towards me increased and spread day by day. Their good favour, which I had at the first procured by my diligence in assisting the defence, had now given place to mistrust and malignity, fostered by Volmar’s minions; and I knew that this canker was eating ever more deeply into the souls of the populace.

VII

On the night of Saturday, a device came into my mind whereby I might bring the truth to light in a manner that could not be gainsaid. It was high time, for a great assembly of the citizens had been holden that day, whereat sundry burghers of good standing openly advised that terms should be made with the enemy. There wanted but three days of the period set by Volmar for the surrender of the city, and on the Monday morning Jan Verhoeff was to die. At this assembly, when I essayed to speak to the people, there arose a great uproar in one quarter of the square, where I perceived certain of Volmar’s creatures to be gathered. Amid the clamour I heard cries of “Spy!” “Traitor!” and sundry other scandalous appellatives; and a stone being cast at me, the Burgomaster commanded me to withdraw out of the throng, lest a general riot should ensue. Therefore, I say, it was high time I did somewhat, and a device came in happy hour into my mind.

To perform it I must needs make an accomplice, albeit unwitting, of the Captain of the Guard. He was a man of a most steadfast courage, diligent in his duty, a staunch friend to me, and one that would never yield to the enemy save at the uttermost extremity: a pattern of that loyalty and stubborn valour whereby his nation has won liberty and immortal fame; a man withal simple of soul, as witness his belief in the astrological foolery whereof I have made mention. I resolved to turn this very simplicity to account.

I repaired to his house, where he was supping after the fatigues of the day, and after reminding him that the next day was Sunday, I declared that I had discovered a flaw in Mynheer Volmar’s talisman. I affected to have a certain skill in reading the stars, and my study of the heavens had shown me that the customary Sunday truce could only be assured by firing a shot of silver, instead of an iron ball as was wont.

“I thank you, sir,” said he, accepting my statement with the faith of a child. “We must acquaint Mynheer Volmar withal; for there is but little time to make the silver shot before the Sabbath breaks.”

“By your good favour, sir,” said I, “this matter must be held a secret ’twixt us two. By the opposition of Jupiter with Mars, and the quartility of Saturn with Venus, I apprehend that the imparting of this matter to any wight whatsoever save only yourself will let loose upon us and the city a myriad evil influences, and all the good we may have of it will be utterly undone.”

This I enforced with a long discourse in which I mingled the jargon of the astrologers with a noble array of tags from my Latin grammar, knowing that the captain had no skill in that tongue.

“We will keep it close,” he said, having heard me gravely. “Let us go forthwith and cast a silver ball in the armoury. I will employ thereto some of my own plate; nothing of all my goods would I withhold from the service of the city.”

We went at once about this task, and the ball having been cast, the Captain of the Guard took it home with him, promising to bring it forth at the due moment on the morrow.

“We must be ready to encounter some opposition from Mynheer Volmar,” I said on leaving him. “He is like to take ill aught that may seem to bring in question his reading of the stars.”

“Beshrew that,” answered the captain. “All that pertains to the defence of the city is in my charge, and things must be done as I command.”

“Without doubt, sir,” said I. “Yet you must look for wrath, yea, even stout resistance on the part of Mynheer Volmar, and I know not what ill consequence may ensue if he has his way.”

And so I wrought the simple captain to a strong resolution to defy Volmar, and bear down any opposition he might make.

On the morrow I set forth betimes for the ramparts. Among the concourse of people going afoot to witness the firing of the Sunday shot I espied the Burgomaster and his daughter, and accosted them with a civil salutation. The Burgomaster looked exceeding ill at ease, shunned my eye, and presently turned me a cold shoulder, conversing with a neighbour. Thereupon Mistress Jacqueline lightly touched my sleeve, and I fell back a pace with her. I observed that her face was very wan and haggard, and was moved to pity her.

“Sir,” she said in a whisper, “shall Jan die to-morrow?”

“Courage!” I said, in her tone. “All will yet be well.”

“I have a thing to say,” she proceeded. “Last night I heard my father talking with—you know whom. To-morrow the order will be given to the Captain of the Guard to arrest you.”

“So ho!” I said under my breath. “I thank you, mistress. Time will show.”

We said no more, but went on among the others.

When we came to the ramparts, Volmar’s man was even then bringing a shot from the storehouse, and Volmar himself stood waiting by the culverin. But the Captain of the Guard, so soon as he saw me, stepped forth with the silver shot in his hand, and entered upon a discourse with Volmar, acquainting him with his purpose and the reason thereof, but not naming me as the author. While they conversed a dark and wrathful look lowered upon Volmar’s swarthy countenance, and he protested stoutly against any meddling with the course indicated by the stars; but when the Captain of the Guard showed himself resolute, Volmar shrugged his shoulders with an air of disdain and stood aside, as one that disavows all part and lot in an act of folly. Seeing his man standing there still holding the iron shot, he bade him set it down, and smiled upon the gaping throng that gazed as upon some high and mystic rite.

Now it was necessary to my purpose that nothing should start a suspicion in Volmar’s mind or render him in any way uneasy; for which reason I had up to this present held myself backward among the press. But it was also necessary that I should possess myself of Volmar’s shot; wherefore, while all eyes were intent upon the Captain of the Guard ramming the silver shot into the culverin, I whispered my servant to go privily and scratch a double cross upon the iron ball where it lay, the which he accomplished without being observed.

The Captain of the Guard, doing all things with a portentous gravity of demeanour, had now charged the culverin, and, to the great wonderment of the populace, he beckoned me forward and placed the burning match in my hands and bade me fire the gun. I had no skill in artillery work, but I accepted the task with becoming modesty, and trained the piece as near as I could upon a flag that waved on the Spanish trenches. Then putting the match to the touch-hole, I stood back, the shot flew forth, and the sight of all was obscured by the thick smoke. But a moment after a great shout broke from the assembled multitude, and looking to see what occasioned it, I beheld with amazement that the flag no longer flaunted it upon the trench. My shot, fired at a venture, had, I suppose, stricken the flagstaff in two.

The Captain of the Guard made me many compliments on my skill, and the folk that stood around looked on me somewhat more kindly, taking the fall of the flag as an omen of good. Volmar darted upon me a look of venom, and then glanced in the manner of one fearful and uneasy towards his own shot; but seeing it lie where the man had placed it, he had no more qualms or misgiving. Then the good folk departed cheerfully to church, and Volmar, bidding his man carry the iron shot back to the storehouse, joined himself to the throng and walked by the side of Mistress Jacqueline, who cast down her eyes and said no word in answer to his soft speeches.

I went beside the Captain of the Guard, and entered the church among the rearmost; but during the singing of the psalm I slipped away quietly to the storehouse, found the shot by means of the mark that my servant had made upon it, and conveyed it to my lodging. Upon opening it, I discovered a small roll of paper, with this writing—

---

“The Burgomaster is come to a reasonable frame of mind. To-morrow the Englishman will be arrested; on the next day in the Council I shall declare that our scarcity of victuals and munition forbids a longer resistance; and a trusty friend will make formal proposition that we yield the city.”

---

Having now the game in my hands, I ate my meagre dinner with a good relish, and immediately thereafter set forth to visit Mynheer Cosmo Volmar. He had just risen from his meal, very comfortably replete, for notwithstanding the general shortness of provisions he had contrived to procure himself a sufficiency of good food and wine. Secure in his approaching triumph, he smiled in his beard when I was ushered in, and bade me seat myself with a courtesy that he had never shown me heretofore.

“Mynheer,” I said gravely, “the city is in parlous case. The Prince is tardy in coming to our succour, and I fear we can scarce hold out another week.”

“Why, sir,” said he, “are you become chicken-hearted?—you that came hither expressly to encourage and sustain us! Little you know the spirit of our burghers if you suppose that, even in this darksome hour, they will yield up the city.”

“Truly the spirit of the most of them is undaunted,” I said; “and I could well believe that, but for the malign presence and pestilent contriving of traitors, they would endure even yet.”

“Ah! Traitors!” said he. “Well, we hang a traitor to-morrow, and his fate will teach a wholesome lesson to any that be like-minded.”

“It may be that others will hang with him,” said I, fixing my eyes upon him. “Will you lend me your ear while I relate a story? It chanced that some few weeks ago, being set upon in the country yonder by a troop of Spaniards, I and my little company were only saved by the timely help of certain peasants, whereby we put the enemy to rout. But a man of my party, pursuing them, overtook and slew one of them, and possessed himself of a paper that he carried in his doublet.”

Here I made a pause.

“Proceed, sir,” said he, smiling. “I protest the beginning is very well.”

“That paper,” I continued, with measured gravity, “I hold now in my pocket, together with two others, the which have come into my possession in strange wise since I entered your city; and most strange, they are writ in the selfsame hand as the first. Moreover, they are one and all of the same tenor, to wit, dwelling on the dire straits whereinto this city has fallen, and furnishing hints concerning a party within the walls—a party of one or mayhap two or three—that is plotting to render up the city into the hands of the enemy.” While I spoke I fastened my eyes intently upon him, and I saw the fashion of his countenance suffer a change, and in his eyes a look of hate and terror commingled. I went on:—“Sir, they are simple souls that believe the stars order our lives and destinies, and it were easy to persuade such that a shot, whether it be of silver or of iron, fired under planetary influence, should cast as it were a spell even upon a ruthless foe. Yet methinks their simplicity would suffer a rude shock did they know that a round shot may carry a message, not from the heavens, mystically, but——”

And here my speech had a sudden end, for Volmar, his face livid with rage and fear, leapt from his seat, whipped out his sword, and flew upon me with the ferocity of a wild beast. But that a stool stood between us, a stumbling block to him in his fury, I had peradventure been pierced to the heart or ever I could draw my own weapon. That obstacle gave me a bare respite. My sword was out and met his clashing, and for the space of five minutes we thrust and lunged, parried and riposted, in the middle of the floor, over the table, by the mantel, in the corners, as the stress of combat carried us. I had always the advantage of him in that I was calm and master of myself, whereas he was drunken with rage, maddened by hate, and desperately fearful of the gallows he had set up for Jan Verhoeff. In mere swordsmanship he was not far from being my equal; had he been in truth my equal, his skill might have prevailed even over his fury. Suffice it to say that after a hot bout of some five minutes I struck his sword from his hand, and pinning him down upon a chair, with my blade at his throat, I bade him sternly give heed to certain conditions on which I would spare his vile and wretched life.

These were, first, that he should write, at my dictation, a full confession of his guilt and treasons, such as should at the same time clear Jan Verhoeff from the accusation made against him. Second, that he should quit the city that night by seven of the clock, and until then keep within doors. The clemency of these conditions wondrously astonished him; and perceiving that he was utterly at my mercy, he accepted them without demur. Within an hour I had his confession, sealed, in my pocket, together with the other papers in his hand.

You may wonder that I showed mercy to so heinous a villain: hear my reasons. I might have slain him; but then I should have had no confession, such as I needed to right Jan Verhoeff. I might have extorted the confession from him, and then delivered him to the council for formal trial and meet punishment; but then many things would have come to light that it were best to keep hidden, especially the questionable part played by the Burgomaster, the which for the sake of the city, and more also for the sake of Mistress Jacqueline, I would fain leave enshrouded. Furthermore, I had now the hold upon goodman Burgomaster that I needed to assure the happiness of two young souls.

Leaving Volmar a shrunken heap in his chair, and being fully assured that Bargen would be no more troubled with him, I made my way to Mynheer Warmond’s house. As I came to the door, there issued forth the Captain of the Guard, whose countenance put on a most sorrowful look when he beheld me. He halted upon the threshold, heaved a sigh, then took me by the sleeve and said—

“Sir, I hold a warrant for your arrest under the hand and seal of the Burgomaster, and to be executed at seven of the clock to-morrow morning.”

“Let not that trouble you,” said I, and had he been my own countryman, in my gaiety of heart I should have poked him in the ribs; such a pleasantry is inexpedient with a Dutch burgher. “Come for me here within a half hour, and I avouch your warrant will be annulled.”

He left me, wondering.

I entered to the Burgomaster, who fell a-trembling when he saw me, and demanded with a stammering tongue what my business was with him upon the Sabbath. I told him very shortly, and never in my life have I seen so piteous a spectacle as that little round rubicund man at the hearing of my story. His conscience pricked him sore, in that he had harkened to ill counsels and dallied with the thought of surrendering. His lips quivered, his limbs shook as with palsy, and with the back of his hand he brushed away the tears that coursed down his fat cheeks. He besought me very earnestly to advise him what he must do, mingling together in lamentable outcry his good name and his daughter that loved him.

“Mynheer,” said I, “there are two things you may do. The first is, to keep silence. This unhappy business is known wholly to none but you, Cosmo Volmar, and myself—and in part to my servant and Jan Verhoeff, who have their reasons for holding their peace. The second is, to undo the wrong you have done your daughter and her promised husband. Thus you will both preserve the reputation for courage you won at the point of the ham bone”—(I could not withhold this quip)—“and win a new renown for fatherly indulgence and magnanimity of soul.”

Upon this the Burgomaster looked somewhat more cheerfully; but again his face fell, and he turned away his eyes, as with a faltering voice he told me that he had ordered my arrest.

“And here is the Captain of the Guard,” said I, as I heard his clanking step without, “come for the cancelment of your warrant.”

The Burgomaster was overcome with humiliation when aware that I knew already of the warrant. He tore the paper passionately across, and wept hot tears when he placed the captain’s hand in mine and bade him cherish me as an honest man. There was ever something of the play actor about goodman Burgomaster.

And now I have told my story. You may like to know that the city did not yield to the Spaniards, but held out for a good month beyond, and was then relieved by Prince Maurice, who advanced through a fierce rainstorm at the head of a large and well-furnished army. I was presented to him on his entrance by Sir Francis Vere, who with a grave countenance related how he had chosen me, as one expert in war and cunning in counsel, to assist the burghers in their extremity. When the Prince had thanked me in the name of the United States of the Netherlands, and invited me to continue in his service, Sir Francis drew me aside and said in my ear—

“Thou’rt a cunning rascal, and be hanged to thee.”

But I leave you to say whether ’twas cunning that served me best.

The praises and blessings heaped upon me by the two ladies, the mother and the sweetheart of Jan Verhoeff, were dearer to me even than the commendation of Prince Maurice. Methinks it is better to make two or three happy than to take a fenced city. In the spring of the next year Jan wrote me word that he had been made councillor and town clerk of Bargen, and was now the husband of pretty Mistress Jacqueline.

I had almost forgot to say that such pricks of conscience as beset me for permitting Volmar to escape a traitor’s doom were stilled but a few days after he in secret quitted the city. His dead body was then discovered in the moat. Whether he was drowned in swimming, or removed (as he would have said) by the Spaniards for that he had failed them, I know not; only I believe in my heart that justice was done.

Interim

Many a time and oft did my grandfather sing the praises of Prince Maurice of Nassau, whom he loved as a man, revered as a prince, and admired as a warrior. He told me that this stout and worthy Prince had studied the art of war from a boy up, and made many innovations in the practice thereof, for the which this age is to him much beholden; namely, he armed his horsemen with the carbine instead of the lance, and taught his soldiers the true use of the spade in siege work. Before his time men of war were wont to scorn that humble tool, and to look upon such as handled it as boors and rascals. My grandfather was with him in the three months’ siege of Groningen, and beheld with admiration the work of his sappers and miners, how they drove mines in the shape of the letter Y beneath the walls of the city, and springing them one night, the north ravelin was blown up into the air with forty of the garrison, of whom one was cast alive and sound at his very feet in the besiegers’ camp.

He told me too how in the summer of the year 1595, he came very near to losing his life. Prince Maurice had raised the siege of Grol, drawing back before the troops of Christopher Mondragon, a little old man of ninety-two, who had practised war from his youth, yet without receiving a wound. The Prince laid an ambush for this marvellous warrior, and set his cousin Philip to accomplish it; but the old man heard of what was toward, and took measures to counter it, so that when, about daybreak, Count Philip sent forward a handful of men to pounce upon the enemy’s pickets, they saw themselves faced by a great number of Spanish horsemen drawn up in order. Whereof when tidings were conveyed to Count Philip, he donned his casque, and drew his sword, and putting spurs to his horse, galloped into the lane that divided him from the Spaniards, being followed at the first only by four of his nobles, and then by others of his horsemen, among whom my grandfather was one.

And when they were shut in that narrow pass, up started the Spaniards on the watery pasture lands on either hand, and fired their guns at them very hotly. Count Philip was shot through the body from a harquebus, which, by reason of its closeness, set his clothes a-fire, and the flames could not be quenched save by rolling him, all wounded as he was, among the sand and heather. When he sought to mount his horse and ride away, his strength failed him, and he fell to the ground and was taken prisoner and carried away dying. My grandfather, following in the charge, was thrown from his horse in the disorder and confusion, and only saved himself by crawling through the hedge, and swimming the river that ran by the margin of the field.

A matter of three months thereafter, my grandfather was with Sir Francis Vere when that valiant captain was sent by Prince Maurice to take the castle of Weerd. Upon Sir Francis demanding that the warden of the castle should yield it up, that doughty commander refused him with scorn, albeit he had no more than a score and six men at his back. But when Sir Francis opened upon the place with his artillery, these folk fell into a panic and laid open their gates. Their captain claimed the honours of war, but Sir Francis made answer that he should have no honours but halters for the stiff-necked simple men that had dared to defend their hovel against ordnance. Whereupon he made the six and twenty draw lots with black and white straws, and they that drew the white were immediately hanged, save only the thirteenth, to whom his life was given after that he had consented to do hangman’s work upon his fellows. The noose was cast first about the neck of their captain, but the rope parting asunder, certain of Sir Francis’ men held him under the water of the ditch until he was drowned. My grandfather fell out with Sir Francis upon this matter, deeming his truculency to be unworthy of a gentleman; and when the troops went into winter quarters, he took ship and returned to England, bearing a richly gilt sword, the gift of Prince Maurice.

He then took up his place in the Queen’s Guard, but had accomplished scarce four months in the royal service when that adventure befell which follows next in order. It was known that King Philip was making ready a fleet of sixty sail to invade Ireland, and Sir Walter Raleigh was instant that the Queen’s ministers should destroy that fleet in Spanish waters, saying that “expedition in a little is better than much too late.” At that time the Spaniards were rejoicing in that Hawkins and Drake had come to grief in their enterprise against Panama, and were dead of a broken heart. Sir Walter’s counsel was deemed good, and the Queen, enraged with the King of Spain for that he was abetting the Irish rebel Tyrone, fitted out ninety-six sail to convey 14,000 Englishmen to the harbour of Cadiz, setting over them Lord Admiral Howard and the Earl of Essex, and granting to Raleigh the command of twenty-two ships. Contrary winds delayed their setting forth, the which, as Sir Walter affirmed, caused him deeper grief than he ever felt for anything of this world. And Providence so fashioned it that my grandfather performed a hardy feat in Cadiz harbour a good month before Sir Walter set sail, as you shall now read.