Citation
Shut in

Material Information

Title:
Shut in a tale of the wonderful Siege of Antwerp in the year 1585
Series Title:
Tales of history
Cover title:
Tale of the siege of Antwerp
Creator:
Everett-Green, Evelyn, 1856-1932
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
London ;
Edinburgh ;
New York
Publisher:
T. Nelson and Sons
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
491, [4] p., [3] leaves of plates : ill., maps, port. ; 20 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Sieges -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Parent and child -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Courtship -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Bridges -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Betrayal -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Persecution -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile fiction -- Antwerp (Belgium) -- Siege, 1584-1585 ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1894 ( rbgenr )
Everett-Green -- Authors' presentation inscription (Provenance) -- 1894 ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre:
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
Authors' presentation inscription (Provenance) ( rbprov )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Added engraved title page and title page printed in red and black.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue follows text.
General Note:
Baldwin Library copy inscribed by the author: "Reginald Barnicott, Esq. with compliments of the author, 1894."
Statement of Responsibility:
by E. Everett-Green.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026682670 ( ALEPH )
ALG6173 ( NOTIS )
225125679 ( OCLC )

Downloads

This item has the following downloads:


Full Text



The Baldwin Library

University
RmB x2
Florida









Regmala Barnicott Log

Vith (tes Com pliiu er 3
of ni Author,
/ 804



emul 1 N

ACSA TES Ol

THE -WONDEREUL: SIEGE-OF
ANTWERP
M DLXAXXV



ALEXANDER: FARNESE
PRINCE: OF PARMA =

THOMAS: NELSON:-AND:SONS






Soo ff

A Tale of the Wonderful Siege of Antwerp
an the Year 1585

By

&. EVERETT-GREEN

Author of “In the Days of Chivalry,” ‘* The Church and the King,"
“The Lord of Dynevor,”

&e. oe

ff
9 od) 5
AS}

Di Nek LL SiO2N AND StONis:
London, Edinburgh, and New York

1894






Il.”

IIL.

Iv.

v.

VIL

VII.

VIII.

Xi.

XII.

XIII.

XIy.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

CONTENTS.



» A TURBULENT CITY,

A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD,
EVIL TIDINGS,

THE COMING STRIFE,

IN PARMA’S CAMP,

INTO THE CITY,
PRISONERS,

LIFE IN THE CITY,

THE DAWN OF LOVE,
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE,
BOIS-LE-DUC, wee
A DEAD MAN’S HAND,
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN,

A DARING SWIM,

A GENEROUS FOE, ese
BRIGHTER DAYS, bee
THE FIRE-SHIPS,

A TERRIBLE NIGHT,



vili CONTENTS.

XIX, LOVE IN WAR, tees wees wees cee 385
XX. ANTWERP AROUSED, _ .... wees vee wee 406
XXI. THE GREAT DIKE, ae es wee vee 426
XXII. AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET, te we coe 448
XXIII. THE DEATH OF HOPE, cee sees wee 467

XXIV. CONCLUSION, ree pees a tees 484



SHUT IN.





CHAPTER I.
A TURBULENT CITY.

7 UT the dike! drown the whole country! Was

C ever such madness heard of? Burgomaster or
no Burgomaster, we'll not stand by to see ourselves ruined.
Cut the dike, forsooth! What next will they say?”

“Cut the dike! And what does he think will become
of our twelve thousand fat oxen? And if all the beasts
perish, how is the city to be fed? Pugh! the Burgo-
master has left his senses behind him at Delft, but he
will not find that all the city has gone mad with him.
We others shall have somewhat to say before we are all
ruined; and the colleges will be all with us. The
Schepens may say what they will, but the Broad Council
will override them.”

“ Ay, verily; we will see that it does. We will beat
up the whole town. Every man with an ounce of sense
in his pate will be on our side. Hemel! I cannot think



10 A TURBULENT CITY.

what has come over the Burgomaster that he should dream
of such a measure, and carry it through the Board.”

The speakers were, for the most part, great brawny
fellows, wearing the distinctive dress of the butchers’
guild, their long, shining knives slung at their girdles.
Their broad Dutch faces were flushed with excitement and
indignation. They also spoke in angry tones, and seemed
to carry the crowd with them. There was a large crowd
gathered in the open space about the beautiful Cathedral
church of “Our Lady ”—the church that had suffered so
cruelly twenty years before from the wild fury of the
Iconoclasts. Some exciting piece of news had plainly
been brought into the city, and all Antwerp was moved at
it. In those days of bloodshed and warfare, when it was
known that that military genius Alexander Farnese, Prince
of Parma, was threatening Antwerp, and making prepara-
tions for a determined siege of that most important strong-
hold, it was like enough that news was greedily listened
to whenever it got about, and that there were continually
these gatherings at street-corners and in open places to
discuss the latest item of intelligence brought in. After
twenty years of dire struggle, and the innumerable vicis-
situdes of fortune which inclined sometimes towards the
tyrant of Spain, sitting spider-like in his cabinet hundreds
of leagues away, sometimes towards the noble champion
of religious liberty, William, Prince of Orange, who for
years had been the true head and right arm of the party
of freedom, it was natural, perhaps, that even the thought
ot a coming siege should not arouse quite the dread and



A TURBULENT CITY. II

sense of unity that it would have done a generation before.
At the first outbreak of a storm, men gather together and
stand shoulder to shoulder against a common foe; but
after long years of fighting, it often happens that minor
issues creep in and promote disunion and jealousy. It
had been so, alas! in the Netherlands during the past
years. The first warm and generous love for liberty and
religious freedom had in many places either died away
in dull despair or been exterminated by fire and sword.
Brabant and Flanders were all but lost already to the
cause of liberty ; and of that ring of five important cities
—Ghent, Dendermonde, Brussels, Mechlin, and Antwerp—
which the Prince of Parma had vowed to subdue, the first
two had already fallen, and it was well known that if
Antwerp likewise fell, the other two must fall with it, and
all the lower Netherlands return to their old obedience to
the tyrant of the Escorial.

Holland and Zeeland were holding out nobly, the spirit
of the great William living, as it were, within them; but
in the lower provinces Spanish gold and French guile were
doing their paralyzing work. Some great persons, some
important strongholds, had literally been bought back by
Philip of Spain ; whilst numerous others, leaning more and
more upon the belief in the French alliance, and the hope
that from France a prince and deliverer would arise for
them, looked on with an approach towards apathy at the
struggles of the moment, disposed rather to temporize and
to wait than to stand shoulder to shoulder in the fight
as they had stood long years before, when the yoke of



12 A TURBULENT CITY.

Spain had been in a fair way of being broken from off
their neck.

And now Antwerp was threatened. The Prince of
Parma had vowed himself to the task of its reduction, and
the Prince of Orange had equally vowed himself to save
it from the destroying hand of Spain. It was well known
that with Antwerp fell the whole of the lower Nether-
lands. The Spaniards recognized this fact as fully as the
people themselves.

“Tf we get Antwerp, you go to mass with us,” they
said, in words that had grown to be almost a proverb;
“and if you save Antwerp, we go to conventicle with
you.”

Antwerp was well aware of her own importance, and
not a little proud of it; but the city was in itself a tur- ~
bulent little republic, and of late years a republic which
had been fast lapsing into anarchy. It had its Burgo-
master, it is true; and at this time the Burgomaster was
none other than the talented and famous Marnix, Lord of
Sainte Aldegonde, orator, soldier, statesman, poet, and
scholar, who had accepted this post (far humbler than
many he had previously occupied) at the personal instance
of the Prince of Orange, who knew that the city needed
a great man at its head, and had persuaded his friend to
try to fill that office at this crisis in its history. But
though there was a Burgomaster, he had but one vote on
the Board of magistrates or Schepens,—and as it was a
Board governed by a majority, measures were continu-
ally passed against the wish of the Burgomaster. Then



A TURBULENT CITY. 13

there were innumerable other boards or colleges, as they
were called, of militia-colonels, ward-masters, deacons, and
so forth, to say nothing of the important city-guilds such
as that of the butchers; and all these hydra-heads were
represented at the weekly meeting of the Broad Council,
before which anybody could force any matter to be
brought. The confusion and wrangling here beggars all
description, and might well drive to distraction any Burgo-
master who desired to impose the wise will of the Prince
of Orange upon the turbulent city.

The name of the Prince, however, was the one name
which still acted as something of a talisman in Antwerp.
It was his name which had enabled the Burgomaster to
induce the Board of Schepens to decree that the Blaw-garen
should be cut and the great Kowenstyn Dike submerged.
But it was one thing for the Schepens to decree this wise
and politic step, and quite another for the city to ratify
that decision.

Every moment the crowd was growing larger in the
open space, and eager questions were being passed from
mouth to mouth. Those who did not fully understand
the bearing of the question were asking information of
those who did; and in the centre of one group stood a tall,
fine-looking man of some five-and-thirty summers, who
wore the dress of a militia-colonel, and who appeared to
have gathered about him some of the most orderly and
intelligent of the crowd.

“My friends,” he said, “if you will listen to me for a
few minutes I will tell you the meaning of this order, and



14 A TURBULENT CITY.

explain to you its wisdom. The very fact that the advice
‘comes from the great Prince himself should be enough for
the people of Antwerp.”

A murmur went through the crowd—it was not easy
to say whether of assent or of discontent; but at least the
sound of that name imposed silence upon the group in
the immediate neighbourhood of the speaker, and though
shouts of defiance and derision went up still from the
knots around the burly butchers, the colonel was able to
speak unchecked to his ring of listeners.

“My friends and fellow-citizens,” he said again, “it is
time for us to face the fact that a great peril is before us.
We stand in the forefront of this great fight for our re-
ligion and our liberty; and if Antwerp falls, the whole
cause for which hundreds of thousands of lives have been
laid down dies in this land, and the Inquisition, with its
racks and its fires and all its infernal machinery, will be
set up again. Say, my fellow-citizens, do you wish for
this ?”

A shout, a howl of execration was the reply, and the
ring closed more closely round the speaker. There were
plenty of Roman Catholics still in Antwerp, plenty who
revered and supported the “old faith,” as it was often
called, and who did not personally dread the fury of the
Inquisitors; but they did abominate the tyranny of the
institution almost as much as those who had embraced the
reformed doctrines, and if there were not unity of religious
belief within the walls of the city, there was unity in detes-
tation of Spanish tyranny and the power of the Inquisition.



A TURBULENT CITY. 15

“Good!” continued the speaker, having got the reply
he desired. “I see that in this matter we are well agreed.
Wherefore at all costs Antwerp must be saved, and it
behoves us most seriously to consider how best we may
save her. The great Prince knows as well as we can do
how great a thing the welfare of this city is to the cause
of freedom; and I am willing to believe that with his
great wisdom and judgment, and his experiences of twenty
years of warfare, he is better qualified to judge what
measures it is for us to take than we on the spot can
settle for ourselves. We have trusted him with many and
great matters before; can we not trust him also with
this ?”

There was another murmur which sounded like one of
assent; and a voice from the crowd asked,—

“ But why should the dike be pierced? why should the
whole country be made desolate? A day’s toil would
serve to pierce the dike, but it will be the work of a
generation to reclaim the land again when once it has
been submerged. Why are we to submit to such loss and
damage ?”

“Verily, because the loss of the city would be tenfold
greater ; whilst the Prince of Parma—the greatest general,
after our own Prince, that the world has ever seen—has
vowed himself to the task of its reduction, and it is for us
to thwart him, even at the cost of present loss, that the
cause of freedom may not be for ever lost to us and our
children.” .

“ But the reason—the reason ?” asked many voices; and



16 A TURBULENT CITY.

the colonel, taking his sheathed sword in his hand, pro-
ceeded rapidly to make a rude diagram upon the sandy
ground on which they were standing, the people pressing
round to see.

“Here, my friends,” he said, pointing, “is the city of
Antwerp within her walls, standing upon the great river
Scheldt, which flows between its great dikes to the sea,
Here, guarding its right bank, is the Blaw-garen Dike, and
at right angles to the Blaw-garen, and starting from it, is
the Kowenstyn. Here again, nearer to the city, between
her and the sea, has the Prince of Parma made his camp,
and what he threatens to do is this: to build a bridge
across the Scheldt, and thus cut off supplies, not only from
Antwerp, but from Brussels also, and starve us into a
surrender ; for, as you well know, we can get little by land
from provinces which have with craven fear returned to
their old allegiance to Spain, and it is to Holland and
Zeeland we must look for the relief and help we shall soon
begin to need.”

“ Bridge the Scheldt!” called out a voice from the crowd,
in accents of deep derision. “Verily we shall hear next
that the Prince of Parma has bridged the great gulf that
divides Dives and Lazarus!” And the laugh with which
the crowd greeted this sally showed that the general feeling
was one of derision at the proposed scheme.

“ My friends,” answered the spokesman, “I well under-
stand your feelings. We know the depth and swiftness of
our river, its great fall of tide every twelve hours, the huge

ice-floes which come down in winter, and the thought of
(444)



A TURBULENT CITY. 17

closing it by a bridge seems well-nigh a chimera. But
then there is this to think of, on the other side—our great
Prince does not so regard it. Had he thought the task to
be beyond the power of man, would he have counselled
our Burgomaster to order the piercing of the dikes? No,
most assuredly not. What he says is this:—Pierce your
dikes, submerge your pasture-land and outlying villages,
and the sea will roll up to the very walls of Antwerp, and
render a blockade impossible. The fleet from Zeeland will
scour these waters, routing the enemy and bringing corn
for the needs of the citizens. Antwerp will be for the
time an island, and will laugh to scorn the fear of famine
or siege. Once make this patriotic resolve to sustain
present loss of goods, and the Prince of Parma must retire
discomfited ; but think first of the cattle and second of the
cause, and the day may come when we shall bitterly re-
pent our folly, and find that repentance comes too late.
For we have a marvellously skilful foe against us, and if
we despise him at the outset, we are like to repent our
folly in dust and ashes in the days to come.”

The people listened in silence, half convinced, and yet
unable or unwilling to believe that their peril was as great
as this soldier would make out. To bridge the Scheldt in
such a way as to blockade the city seemed the wildest of
wild chimeras to the inhabitants of Antwerp, who knew
something of the character of their great river, and its
depth and volume of water. If the Prince did manage to
construct a bridge in the teeth of the opposition of the

united fleets of Zeeland and Antwerp, the first of the ice
(444) 2



18 A TURBULENT CITY.

coming down would sweep it away like a child’s toy.
Such was the opinion of the majority of those gathered
round the diagram in the sand, discussing the situation
and hazarding all manner of opinions. The speaker him-
self was now standing aside in thoughtful silence. A burly
butcher came up and looked at the drawing, and heard
what was passing from mouth to mouth in the crowd.

“Bridge the river, quotha! starve the people into
capitulation! And yet the first step to avoid starvation
is to drown twelve thousand fat oxen! A pretty method
that!”

“Could not the oxen be slain and the meat salted down
for use during the siege?” suggested one practical juffrouw;
but the butcher only sniffed scornfully.

“And why eat salted meat when fresh may be had day
by day ?—just for the bogey terror of a few dreamers!
Let this wonderful Prince of Parma build his bridge if he
can! How does he think he will do it, with all Antwerp
looking on on one side and Holland and Zeeland on the
other? Only a fool or a traitor would believe such a
thing! Listen not to yon foreigner, good folks—Antwerp
has had something too much of foreign treachery already—
listen to your own good citizens, who have no aim but the
public weal !”

And the burly Dutchman cast a defiant look upon the
officer, who raised his head at the challenge to his loyalty,
and said,—

“Yes, my friends, I am an Englishman by birth. I
have never striven to pass as any other. But I came into



A TURBULENT CITY. 19

this city as a child, and here have I dwelt as one of its
citizens. My own country is unknown to me. My life
has been bound up in Antwerp. My wife is one of your
daughters, and for the cause of Antwerp and liberty I
would gladly lay down my life. I have shed my blood in
the strife before, and I am ready to do so again. Treachery
and enough has there been within the walls of Antwerp—
foreign treachery, and treachery at home. But which of
you can lay that charge against me? If he do but prove
his words, smite off my head as I stand here! I will not
resist the stroke.”

There was a murmur in the crowd, and several men
cried shame upon the butcher.

“The Heer soldier speaks well. He has ever been true
to the cause of Antwerp. He is no traitor.”

“Then let him hold his peace, and no more talk of
cutting the dikes!” growled the butcher sulkily; “for I
hold that all who strive for such a thing are traitors to
the commonwealth.”

“Then the Prince is such a traitor,’ said the officer, in
a tone of fine scorn; “for it is the special charge laid by
him upon our Burgomaster, who has had personal con-
verse with him at Delft, that the dikes be pierced, and
Antwerp saved from the miseries of another siege, and
from the peril with which she is menaced.” And so saying,
the colonel turned on his heel and walked rapidly away,
whilst the tumult in the crowd rose again as before, all
sorts of arguments being bandied about, but the prevailing
feeling throughout being against the proposed measure.



20 A TURBULENT CITY.

For many days the city was in a ferment, and from
house to house went emissaries from various boards and
colleges urging the people to refuse to submit to the drastic
measures proposed to them. The citizens had immense
power in Antwerp, for the main bulk of the troops con-
sisted of the burgher militia, which was very well trained
and always ready to fight; but it lacked the necessary
element of submission, and was a turbulent and undocile
body when not under arms, and was, of course, governed
almost entirely by the will of the citizens from whom it
was drawn. There was a regiment of English in the place
under Colonel Morgan; but there had been mutiny in the
regiment, and two of the captains had been hanged.
Antwerp was in a strangely distracted state, and was rent
by faction within her walls—a thing which William of
Orange knew and grieved over, and which added tenfold
to his fears for the ultimate result of the struggle he knew
to be impending. Had he lived to give his weight and
authority to the counsels of prudence, perchance many of
the gigantic blunders which characterized this struggle
might have been averted.

The days flew by, and nothing was talked of in the city
but the proposed destruction of the great Blaw-garen Dike,
and the strenuous resistance to be made at the next Broad
Council against the step. The butchers were the most
rancorously opposed to it, but the bulk of the citizens
shared in their dislike to the submerging of the surround-
ing territory, and stormy scenes were daily enacted in the
streets. The Burgomaster was not unfrequently hooted as



A TURBULENT CITY. 2I

he rode abroad, and lampoons were posted up on the
churches and other public places ridiculing the plan and
its projectors, and asking what was to become of the
miserable inhabitants of the villages to be submerged, and
whether Antwerp would be saddled with the maintenance
of all these homeless creatures in addition to all she had to
do for her own people.

Of course there are always two sides to every question,
and the step proposed was undoubtedly a serious one.
Much of the reclaimed country of the Netherlands was
already again under water. Again and again for military
and strategical purposes dikes had been ruptured and
whole tracts of country submerged. To add another im-
mense area of water to what had already been given back
to the hungry sea might well arouse anxious fears, and
numbers of the citizens declared that nothing in that way
ought to be done, at least until Parma’s bridge had become *
something other than a figment of his imagination.

“Time enough when the bridge is built,” was what the '
greater part of the citizens were saying, keeping an air of
judicious neutrality. They did not abuse the scheme like
the butchers, nor advocate it like the small minority who
trusted in the sagacity of the Prince. But they took up
the ground that there was plenty of time to see how things
turned, and that it would be worse than folly to desolate
their country unless the need should become much sorer
than it was at present.

This theory sounded so very plausible that it carried
away the bulk of the inhabitants, and it was pretty well



22 A TURBULENT CITY.

understood even before the Broad Council met that the
citizens would absolutely refuse to permit the undertaking,
and that they would carry the day against the Burgomaster
and his few friends and supporters. Deputations without
number had waited on Sainte Aldegonde already, and it
was confidently known throughout the city that he him-
self had been shaken by the arguments brought to bear
upon him.

Shortly before sunset, on a bright evening at the close
of this memorable June, the same colonel of militia who
had addressed the crowd a few days previously was slowly
and thoughtfully wending his way in the direction of
Hooch Straet from the great public assembly, which had
met, as usual, for the discussion of municipal affairs.

Lionel Wilford had left early. His voice was of no use
amongst the tumultuous tongues all wagging together at
the Broad Council. He had waited to see the issue of the
day, though to him it had been from the first a foregone
conclusion; and when he saw that nothing could shake the
people’s resolve to let the dikes remain as they were, he left
the council-room and made his way slowly home, wondering
within himself what would be the outcome of all this, and
whether his townsfolk would not live bitterly to regret
the obstinacy of the present moment, when it might be too
late to take the step urged upon them now.

Lionel walked onwards till he found himself in the wide
street in which his home lay, and looked up with some
natural affection at the great timbered house, with its
shining windows and quaint gables and chimneys, in



A TURBULENT CITY. 23

which he and his kindred dwelt in almost patriarchal
fashion.

Once this building, with its carved beams, queer little
balconies, and its outer stairway to the first-floor rooms,
had been two houses—the one occupied by Lionel’s father
‘and mother, Thomas and Joan Wilford; the other, by the
family of Hermann and Barbara Van der Hammer, mer-
chant partners of the Wilfords, whom in the days of the
Marian persecutions the Wilfords had come across the
water to join. A close friendship and intimacy had sprung
up between the two families, and when, some ten years
since, Lionel had married Roosje, the eldest daughter of
the Van der Hammer household, the two houses had been
practically thrown into one, and the two families grew up
together almost as one, each speaking equally the language
of the other, and sharing together good fortune and ill, as
those must needs do who live in such stirring times, and
have been through so many vicissitudes of fortune together.

These had been terrible years for the Netherlands and
for Antwerp—these past twenty years of desperate warfare
with the richest and most powerful sovereign of the world.
Scarce could the Wilfords have told why they had not long
ago returned to their native shores, to escape the horrors
of which they were sometimes daily the witnesses. They
had barely escaped with life during the “Spanish Fury”
in Alva’s day, and looked back yet with a shudder to that
fearful time, when it seemed as though the very gates of
hell had been opened upon them.

And yet here they were still, living in their peaceful



24 A TURBULENT CITY.

home in Hooch Straet, and at the present time enjoying
the fruit of their industry and successful trading. It is a
strange thing how the Provinces thrived and grew rich in
the midst of the terrible struggle for existence which they
waged so long against their tyrant, and how entirely and
completely ruin followed any submission to the Spanish
crown. Antwerp, in spite of all it had gone through, was
rich and prosperous at this time, and none amongst her
merchant princes were more highly esteemed for upright-
ness and just dealing than those of the house of Wilford
and Van der Hammer.

Lionel had taken his share in the business dealings of
the house ; but he had combined this with good service in
the burgher militia, as indeed almost all able-bodied men
strove to do in those days. Lionel had thought of retiring
from his military duties, to relieve his father of some of
his work, when this new peril of siege threatened the city.
This hardly being the time to unbuckle his sword, he had
volunteered to remain for another year at least in the serv-
ice, and to organize a small new band of young men from
the burgher classes, to act as a volunteer reserve for the
militia in this time of coming peril. These youths would
remain in their own homes, as did many of the burgher
contingent, coming forth as required for drill or for fight-
ing. And the band thus got together promised to be one
of the best the city had yet seen. Lionel was personally
much respected and liked, and his own brothers and
brothers-in-law formed an admirable nucleus for the con-
tingent.



A TURBULENT CITY. 25

Up the outer staircase trod Lionel with his steady step,
and a light form sprang out upon the balcony to meet him.

“Tt is he!” eried a clear young voice. “Brother, come
in and tell us all. Father is wishing so much to hear, and
so is the vader too.”

It was the way in that house to call the elders father
and mother indiscriminately, whether they were Wilfords
or Van der Hammers, the English term being given to the
former, and the Dutch to the latter, by all the young folks
alike. It was his own sister Maud who had sprung out to
welcome him—the only girl on the English side of the
house. She was a sweet-faced maiden of twenty summers,
with blue eyes, and abundant hair of a rich golden-brown
colour. Lionel felt an almost fatherly affection for the
sister so much younger than himself. Indeed, as the three
children who had been born after him had died in infancy,
a great gap of ten years divided him from his next
brother, Harold, and he felt almost as though he belonged
to the older generation, and was accorded by all a certain
measure of respect, as though the rest of the double family
recognized this distinction. As a married man, too, he had
some claim to authority, and his father had long ago re-
signed the reins of domestic government into his hands
and those of his wife.

“Yes, come and tell us the result of the Broad Coun-
cil,” said the voice of the elder Wilford from within the
room; and Lionel stepped across the threshold of the door-
window, to find himself in the midst of a regular family
gathering.



26 A TURBULENT CITY.

This pleasant room, with its five large windows facing
the street (the middle one of which was the door which
opened upon the wooden balcony), was the general living
and feeding room of the large family party. It ran through
both houses, and was quite forty feet long and twenty
wide. There was a great stove at either end, neither of
which was lighted this warm June day; and a long table
occupied the half of the apartment, with two arm-chairs at
either end, and benches down the sides.

The floor of the room was boarded, and the boards liter-
ally shone like mirrors, and those who trod upon them
went carefully by long practice, as they were almost as
slippery as ice. The windows, too, shone with the same
wonderful cleanliness, and not a speck of dust was to be
seen in the whole place. One wall was almost entirely
composed of quaint, carved shelves, on which the earthen-
ware and china vessels used at table were arranged with
the greatest care. The bottom part of this great cabinet
(if it could so be called) consisted of cupboards, in which
the wooden trenchers and knives were stored, and these
were as white and spotless as constant scrubbing could
make them. All the furniture shone with the polishing of
willing hands, and the whole air of the place was one of
spotless cleanliness and brightness. One or two pictures
on the wall, and a few small squares of carpet (laid down
like islands in the midst of a shining sea), gave a look
of simple comfort to the room, which was otherwise
rather severely plain in its fittings; but the home-like
aspect made amends for much, and the family party as-



A TURBULENT CITY. 24

sembled there could not fail to attract admiration and
interest.

Lionel’s father was a very fine-looking old man of some
sixty summers, with curling white hair, and a face that
seemed like an elder edition of that of his son. He sat
near to the unlighted stove, in a place that was plainly
always his own, with his feet upon one of the carpets,
and his hands grasping the carved arms of his big chair.
Beside him was a dainty-looking old dame, with bright
blue eyes and a picturesque cap that was not like the
ones most often seen in Antwerp. She had clung to
the recollection of the coif her mother used to wear in
England, and always made her own on the same pattern.

Opposite to this pair of old folks sat another couple, in
another brace of high-backed chairs. But Heer Van der
Hammer was very different in appearance from his old
friend. He was some five years younger, and would not
have had any appearance of old age had it not been for
the sufferings he had been through during the course of .
the past years. Once he had been in prison, twice he had
been badly wounded, and from the effects of the last
wound he had never entirely recovered. It had so far
crippled him that he was forced to remain for the greater
part of his time a prisoner in his chair; and though he
looked stout and hale yet, he was not fit for active em-
ployment, and his main work lay in the examination of
his books, and in the correspondence needed with foreign
lands; for he could wield a pen as well as a sword, and
that little table at his right hand was almost always heaped



28 A TURBULENT CITY.

with books and papers. He was big and burly in figure,
and had a shrewd eye and a loud voice. Mr. Wilford was
the more refined and handsome of the pair, but there was
considerable power in the face of Van der Hammer.

His wife was of the fine Dutch type—dark-eyed, sweet-
faced, and with a pretty, shrinking manner. She seldom
lifted up her voice in the assembled family circle; yet she
was universally beloved, and was the grandmother towards
whom the children gravitated almost as a matter of
course. .

Dame Wilford loved the little ones well, but she was
far more strict with them than was the juffrouw Van der
Hammer.

With the exception of Maud, the pretty girl who had
welcomed Lionel back, all the Wilfords were sons; Harold
and Malcolm following their brother in his soldier-like
calling, and Philip, the youngest, being as eager as the
rest, though only lately considered man enough to take
part in military tactics.

On the Dutch side of the double family there had been
more equal division of sexes. Roosje, the eldest of the
family, had been a happy wife and mother for many
years now; but Otto and Joris, who came next to her,
had shown no disposition towards marriage, and _pre-
ferred to lead the lives of burgher-citizens, dividing their
time between military training and their father’s merchant
offices on the Hoy Kay, as the bulk of the youth of the
town did in those stirring days, They were strong-built
young fellows, of twenty-five and twenty-four summers



A TURBULENT CITY. 29

respectively, and were always together, and the best of
comrades and friends.

Gertrude, a tranquil maiden of two-and-twenty, came
next, and it was confidently expected that she and Harold
would be married as soon as the country was in a more
settled state. The attachment had grown up from child-
hood, and nothing had disturbed its even course. Maurice,
a beautiful lad of twenty, and Coosje, a wilful and charm-
ing child of eighteen, concluded the quiver of the Van der
Hammer parents. And now, having introduced its various
members, I leave the personages in the household to speak
for themselves and develop in their own way.



CHAPTER II.

A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

& ELL, my son, what news dost thou bring?

V V How goes the decision at the Broad Council ?”

“Dead against the counsel of the Prince,’ answered
Lionel, as he uncovered and made a reverence to his
parents (as was his invariable custom on entering the
house), and unbuckled his sword, which he handed to his
young brother Philip. “I had little hope from the first,
after I heard the manner in which our Burgomaster re-
ceived the deputations of the butchers. Bah! they would
sell the whole city of Antwerp for the sake of a few
hundred oxen !”

“Blind fools! blind fools!” spoke the elder Van der
Hammer, with a solemn shake of the head. “Heaven
send we do not bitterly repent our folly! What said the
Burgomaster at the Council? He was eloquent enow at
the Board of Schepens but a week ago, and so moved
them that they voted as one man (a thing sufficiently
strange) for the destruction of the dike. Where was his
eloquence to-day ?”

Lionel shook his head with grave disapprobation.



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 31

“ Methinks our brilliant and most patriotic Burgomaster
is something too fine a tool for the use to which he is now
put. We want a sledge-hammer to dash opposition in
pieces, and carry all before it with its own force and
weight. The Lord of Sainte Aldegonde is as a finely-
tempered weapon, which in its right place can achieve
wonders, but which is like to be shivered to fragments
if used for work to which it is not made. To put the
matter in plain words, our Burgomaster sees too clearly
both sides of the question; he puts himself too readily
into the position of those who oppose him, and sees the
matter with their eyes. This may be the gift of a great
genius, but it may be a fatal gift to a ruler in times
of peril such as encompass us now. When the townsfolk
represent to him that it would be folly to destroy all
the meat for the city just at the time when famine be
threatening, he sees clearly that they have there a point
in their favour; and when others get up and say that it
will be time enow to pierce the dike when the Prince of
Parma has built his bridge, then again he wavers and
inclines to see that point too.”

“And is there not reason in that, son Lionel?” asked
the mother, who was anxiously listening to her son’s
report; for all Antwerp was keenly interested in the
result of to-day’s council. “Why should we not wait,
before devastating the country, until the need thereof be
more pressing than at this moment ?”

“ Because, my mother, we have a wary and sleepless foe
to deal with, and we know not how long we may hold



32 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

the command of these two dikes—the Blaw-garen and
Kowenstyn. ‘The Prince of Parma is scattering his forts
up and down the land. He swoops down like an eagle on
some unprotected or but feebly-protected spot—if possible,
upon some dike—and lo! in a few days, sometimes in a
single night, a fortress springs up as if by magic, with
the red-and-yellow flag of Spain floating over it. The
Sieur of Kowenstyn was at the Council this day, and
urged upon our Burgomaster the need of piercing the
dike, and letting the waters of the Scheldt roll to the
very walls of Antwerp, mingled with the salt sea waves
of the ocean beyond. He urged upon us that the time
was ours now, but that no man might know how long
we might hold the dike, with the veteran Spaniard
Mondragon and his iron followers in such close proximity.
Methought he made a wondrous telling oration, and I
had hoped his counsel would have carried the day; but
alas—”

“Oh, what?” cried young Maurice, with sparkling eyes,
and cheeks that were flushed with excitement. “Brother,
who did make answer to him? And what did they say
to such an appeal ?”

“ Marry, they gave such an answer that I tingled with
shame for mine own class and calling. Three of our
colonels of militia rose one after the other, and in language
that was little short of insulting proclaimed that it would
be useless for the Sieur of Kowenstyn or for the Burgo-
master himself to think of ordering the piercing of the
dike, for that they and their bands would stop the work



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 33

by force if it were begun, and that none but cowards
would think of ruining their land for a bogey terror like
that of Parma’s bridge !”

“Those were ill words for Antwerp’s soldiers to speak
in the open council!” said Van der Hammer, with slow
deliberation. “It is the duty of the soldier to obey his
officer, and for the officer to obey the lawful authority
of those who bear rule over us. If this be the spirit
of our city, God help us! I fear her doom is already
signed !”

“It was in part the jealous ill-will of the citizens
towards the Lord of Kowenstyn. Thou knowest, my
father, how many of our burgher class delight in a gibe at
those born to rank and affluence. A sneer at his courage
was not to be foregone; and he knew it right well, and
answered by marching from the council-chamber in lofty
dudgeon, his sword clanking as he moved, and his eyes in
their deep sockets flashing fire. He turned at the door to
make his bow to our Burgomaster, and methought there
was something sinister and fearsome in his aspect. There
was derision in the deep bow he made to us; and it
seemed when he had vanished from the room as though
some momentary uneasiness fell upon the whole assembly.”

“And didst thou raise thy voice, son Lionel?” asked
his father. “I trow this be no time to keep silence when
there be words of sound wisdom to speak.”

“T did put in my word there,” answered Lionel. “I rose
to my feet in the silence which followed the clang of the

door, and I addressed our Burgomaster in mine own name
(444) 3



34 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

and that of my band of volunteers, saying that not only
did I not endorse the words of the colonels who had
spoken before me, but that I here tendered him our
loyal service for the work of the destruction of the dike,
if he still desired that work undertaken; and I would
have gone on to urge that the counsel of the Sieur of
Kowenstyn should be well weighed and considered, when
I was hissed down by a multitude of angry voices, all
calling me foreigner, traitor, and English spy—as is the
way of those who know themselves in the wrong, and will
not have the right way set before them.”

“Ay, verily, it is ever so in this unhappy city,” said
Van der Hammer, in his slow, ponderous way. “Methinks
they would sooner hand it over to the Prince of Parma
than learn to agree amongst themselves. Heaven send
we do not have cause bitterly to repent our insensate
folly! And how spoke the Burgomaster then ?”

“He knew not what to say. He reminded us that the
counsel he had given at the Board of Schepens was the
counsel of the great Prince of Orange, whose name is still
held in reverence, even here in Antwerp. That reminder
told for a moment, but selfish fears soon drove it out
again; and when the voting came, there were scarce a
third to follow the wishes of our great William. The
only hope for the city in this matter is for him to come in
person to urge it. Were he in our midst, methinks the
thing could yet be carried; without that personal presence
we shall walk on blindly till we find ourselves caught in
our own net.”



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 35

“But, brother,” said Gertrude, with a timid appeal,
“surely before the Prince of Parma can even begin his
bridge, the French will have come to our aid! Methought
the King of France was to have been made the king of
these lands ere now. When we have France to help us
in our struggle, surely we need not fear!”

“ When we have it,” answered Lionel, with something
_of bitter emphasis in his tone, “then it will be time to
talk of relaxing our efforts. Ach! it sickens me to hear
this perpetual talk of France, France, France! Did we
not: have enough of France, I say, with that traitor of
Anjou? Has Antwerp already forgot the French Fury,
that she is holding out her arms again to France, and
seeking protection beneath her sceptre? The time will
come when she will bitterly repent her folly and credulity,
and will curse the apathy with which she has let the
precious time go by, thinking always that help and
succour are coming to her from France! And when
her eyes are opened at the last, she will find, I greatly
fear me, that they are opened too late.”

“O brother, art thou not a prophet of evil?” asked
Maud, with some natural shrinking in her eyes. “All
the world speaks of the French alliance and what will
be done for us then.”

“ Ay, they speak of it, and whilst they speak they let
time pass, and dally with danger; but Parma does not
dally and sleep, nor would the great Prince of Orange
countenance such folly. But to trust in France, to my
thinking, is like, in days of old, putting faith in Egypt.



36 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

It is like a reed which, if a man lean upon it, it will
pierce his hand. Yon dressed-up doll upon the French
throne, whose favourite pastime is to put on the garb of a
woman and paint his face and adorn himself like a har-
lot, is he the man to whom these Provinces shall turn
for help in the hour of dire necessity? And behind the
throne of that painted fop stands that woman Jezebel,
at whose doors lies the tragedy of St. Bartholomew.
Is she one to help on the cause of religious freedom ?
And the Balafré—the dark Duke of Guise, the idol of
the people—is he to be trusted to fight in the cause to
which we are bound ?”

“But there is Henry of Navarre,” put in Maurice
eagerly; “and if the King of France dies childless, as seems
like, all men say he will be the next king; and he—”

“Well?” questioned Lionel briefly. “And what is he?”

Maurice did not reply, but looked to his father, who
said,—

“Henry of Navarre is at least a man and a soldier, and
they say of him that his heart is in the cause of the
reformed faith. More than that I know not myself; but
I do say this, that since the Prince of Orange hath ever
been the warm friend of the French alliance, I cannot see
why we humbler folk need ery scorn of it. Surely one
who dwells in high places as he does can better see
and judge than humble burgher-citizens.”

Lionel slowly seated himself in his accustomed chair,
and rested his chin upon his hand. His face was grave
and thoughtful



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 37

“JT know that well,” he answered. “The Prince 7s the
advocate of that alliance, and he has ever been our best
counsellor and guide in these troubled times; and yet
mine own heart misgives me. I cannot but wish it were
to England’s Queen rather than to the King of France
that we were looking now.” .

“What—to little England! and with the next in
succession the bitter foe of the reformed faith—the
captive Mary Stuart, whom half the nation have sworn to
rescue and make Queen!” exclaimed Van der Hammer,
who shared the prevailing and not unnatural opinion of
his country that England would be a very helpless ally
for the Netherlands in their present crisis. “Nay, son
Lionel, I can scarce go with thee there, albeit I have
ever thought well of England and the English, as I
have good cause to do;” and the Dutchman and English-
man exchanged bows with each other, whilst Lionel an-
swered thoughtfully,—

“Tt may be but fantasy on my part, and yet I have ever
longed to see us banded with England in this struggle.
Methinks that she will have to be one day our ally,
and make common cause against a common foe. I hear
it whispered abroad, by those who know the secrets of the
Spanish court, that when that tyrant has crushed these
Provinces beneath his iron heel, he will next descend upon
the shores of England, and bring that land again beneath
the sway of Rome. Wherefore I would fain see our two
countries standing shoulder to shoulder in the fight against
the tyrant of Spain. But with these long-drawn negotia-



38 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

tions with France I have neither patience nor sympathy.
We have seen something too much of French treachery
and double-dealing of late. England’s Queen may be long
in making up her mind to enter upon a quarrel against a
foe so powerful as Philip of Spain, but at least she will
not betray a trust once undertaken by herself and her
people.”

“TI myself think with thee, my son,” said the elder
Wilford thoughtfully. “The Princess Elizabeth was but a
girl when I left the country, and her jealous sister kept
her in what was little other than imprisonment; yet even
so it was said of her that she had inherited a wonderful
measure of the spirit of her sire; and well do I remember
what England was under the rule of the great Henry. If
she be her father’s daughter, she be more of a man than
the weakling who wields the sceptre of France. I would
fain believe that England would stand forth the champion
of this down-trodden land; but so long as our rulers look
first to France, we cannot hope that the royal Elizabeth
will be eager to befriend us.”

“Men say she regards us with friendly eyes,” said Lionel,
“but covets not the task of standing betwixt us and Spain.
She would sooner that we received aid from France. But
the presence of Colonel Morgan and his soldiers within the
walls of our citadel here shows plainly that England is
with us in this struggle.”

But the discussion of the greater questions of the day
did not hold the younger members of the family as breath-
lessly attentive as the recital of what was actually going



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 39

on within the city walls. The families of Wilford and
Van der Hammer were better instructed in the politics of
the day than many burgher households, owing perhaps to
their facilities for obtaining news through their trading
vessels, and to the fact that they represented two nation-
alities in their own household; but even so, it was far
more interesting to the younger members of the family to
hear of local rather than of national affairs; and although
they were too well trained to interrupt their elders, they
listened with eager pleasure to the sound of ringing foot-
steps upon the polished stairs which led upwards from
below. These footsteps were accompanied by sounds of
martial import—the clash of a sword striking against the
edge of the stair, and the ring of mailed gloves thrown
down upon the table without.

“Tt is the jonkhers returned from their drill,” remarked
Wilford, with his eyes upon the door; and Coosje sprang
forward and opened it.

Together entered four stalwart youths accoutred in the
military fashion of the day—Otto and Joris, looking like
twin brethren, so exactly were they alike in figure and
face, leading the way, Harold and Maleolm bringing up the
rear. The Van der Hammer brothers were more strongly -
built, and had greater depth of chest and strength of limb,
than their English comrades ; but Harold was the tallest of
the four, and was a very handsome fellow, giving promise
of being very like his brother Lionel as he grew and
matured ; whilst Malcolm was slight and of medium height,
though as sinewy and muscular as a race-horse. He had



40 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

fair hair and gray eyes, and a face of quick and keen
intelligence. His movements were singularly rapid, and
he was noted already in his troop as being the swiftest
runner, the best swimmer, and the most agile climber
amongst them. In the amphibious and strategic warfare
of the Middle Ages, especially in such countries as Holland
and Belgium, these points were of no small advantage,
and Malcolm had several times distinguished himself above
men of stronger mould. He was when at home the life of
the house, having always some amusing story to tell or
some joke to crack with those about him. He was the
light of his mother’s eyes, and never went forth or came in
without the exchange of some caress or fond word—albeit
that kind of affectionate intimacy between parents and
children was something unusual in those days.

He crossed the room now with his light, springing step,
and bent his knee before his mother’s chair. She laid her
hand softly on his fair head as she said with a smile-——

“So thou hast returned safe and sound, my son ?”

“ Yes, verily; but none so glad of heart for the news
abroad. I had hoped to hear that on the morrow we
should be all turned out to mount guard over the sappers
and miners, who should be making breaches in the Blaw-
garen and Kowenstyn dikes. But the fools are ringing
the bells, forsooth, because there is to be nothing done, and
because the beasts may fatten and batten in peace! In
peace, quotha! If we do not look well to it, men and
beasts will alike perish by thousands on those fertile plains
where the salt waters ought to be rolling. Methought our



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 41

Burgomaster would have been a match for those fat, greasy
butchers !”

Coosje uttered a soft laugh at this description of her
townsmen, whilst the three little children of Lionel and
Roosje, who had come in at the sound of the soldiers’
return, and were gathering round the Van der Hammer
grand-parents as usual, looked curiously at their tall uncles
to ask,—

“Are they going to make our town into an island ?
Mother said perhaps we should soon see the great waves
rolling all round it. We should like that. Are they going
to make the sea come to us?”

“JT fear me not, my children,” answered the grandfather,
“T fear me not. A wise head has counselled; but there
be other heads and blunter wits at work, and I fear me the
voice of the many foolish wili prevail over that of the few
wise. Were our city to be turned for the nonce into a
great island, whither the fleets of the brave Zeeclanders
could come and go at will, and where our ships, in con-
junction with theirs, could muster together for one great
battle with the Spanish Prince at Kalloo, I trow he and
his picked soldiers would soon find they must run for their
very lives before us, and we should drive them back
whence they came, and prove to them that Antwerp is too
hard a nut for them to crack. If the Prince of Orange
would come himself to Antwerp, and meet the citizens
face to face, methinks he might even now persuade them.
But none other than he would be equal to the task.”

“Vader,” said Maurice, suddenly rousing himself from a



42 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

deep reverie into which he had fallen, “I had a dream
yesternight; it has weighed upon me all this past day.
Heaven send it come not to pass!”

All in the room turned to look anxiously at Maurice.
The dreamy-eyed lad with the thin, sensitive face, the quick
colour that came and went in his cheeks, and the brow
that spoke of imagination and enthusiastic devotion, had
possessed from childhood a strange and “uncanny” gift.
He would from time to time be visited with a dream-like
trance, in which certain things passed before his sleeping
senses ; and these dreams had invariably been followed by
disaster to the person whom he had seen whilst under the
spell of that strange sleep. During these past years of
stress and peril and warfare, many dear friends and near
kinsmen had been snatched away by the hand of death,
although the double household itself had been marvellously
preserved from loss of its members; and many times before
some misfortune had happened to one that they knew and
loved, Maurice had told his mother or some member of the
family of a strange dream, in which he had seen that same
person move and play a part, but always with a black halo
about his head. The boy had grown to dread his own
dreams, and when visited by one would feel depressed and
ill at ease. It had been some time now since he had been
visited by one, and he had hoped the spell was broken;
but it seemed that this was not so, and all in the room
turned to look at him, the women clasping their hands
and murmuring words of prayer that their own family
circle might not be broken up.



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 43

“My son,” said Van der Hammer slowly, “if thou hast
said so much thou hadst best tell us more. It may be
that these visions are granted to thee to serve as a warning
to those thou lovest. When thou speakest of a dream,
thou dost mean one of those strange visions of thine which
differ from an ordinary dream ?”

“Ay, as light from darkness. Father, I vowed I would
keep it to myself and say naught to disturb the peace of
the house, for no face of any friend or kinsman came
before me. I seemed to see into some great room where
men of rank and noble birth were met together for discus-
sion. JI saw amongst the assembly the face of our Burgo-
master, the Lord of Sainte Aldegonde. He was sitting
near to a man of noble presence and eagle eye, and I knew
that this man was none other than our great Prince of
Orange; and I bent my gaze upon him closer and closer,
striving to catch the words he spoke,—for his lips moved,
and I knew that he was speaking. And even as I watched
I saw the black halo form itself about his head, and I gave
such a cry that I awoke out of sleep, for it was as though
I had seen the death-angel drive his sword into his heart.”

There was an inarticulate murmur in the room. Several
of the women turned pale, and Maud sprang to her feet,
white and trembling.

“Not the Prince—not our great Prince! Ach, Maurice,
say that it was not he! If he were to be taken from us
the cause of liberty would be lost for ever.”

It was strange, perhaps, what consternation was pro-
duced in that room by the recital of this lad’s dream; but



44 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

so if was—even the children cowering together at their
grandam’s knee and looking with frightened eyes into
her face.

“T would I could say it were not he,” answered Maurice,
in a low tone; “but I know that face too well to be
mistaken. And the dream was repeated thrice, and each
time the black shadow about the head was deeper and
denser. I would not let myself sleep again, but rose before
the dawn to wander forth through the sleeping city and
strive to forget the horror of it. Father, where is the
Prince now? ‘There is little fighting of import going on.
Can he be in any grievous peril ?”

“The Prince is at his house at Delft,” answered Van der
Hammer. “His little son has just been christened there;
and our Burgomaster was present, as you know, at that
ceremony, and has returned thence with this urgent counsel
from the Prince anent this matter of the dike. Methinks
scarce ever in his stormy career has the Prince been more
safe than at this time.”

“And I may think of my dream as but an idle fantasy,”
cried Maurice, with impetuous eagerness—‘ the fantasy of
a fevered brain; for all these past days we have been
thinking, thinking, thinking—first of the city, then of the
dikes, then of the Prince and his words—till it has fairly
got upon my brain. Say, mijn vader, may I think of it
as a diseased fantasy of the brain ?”

“My son,” was the grave response, “there be some
matters upon which it behoves us not to speak with too
great assurance. There be mysteries surrounding this



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 45

little span of our human life into which we must not seek
too closely to pry. The good God has given to His chil-
dren various gifts, and it is not for us to despise or
disregard these same gifts, even though we might fain
have been without them. Thou knowest how even now,
through a dream of thine, great hurt to the family of our
good friends Meetkercke was averted, and many lives
saved. Wherefore seek not too much to fight against
what gives thee pain to see. I would we could send a
message of warning to the Prince, that some peril he recks
not of may lie athwart his path; but I fear were we to
speak only of the dream of a jonkher like our Maurice, he
would but receive it with a smile.” ;

“ He has lived a life of peril so long that danger seems
his meat and drink,” said Lionel. “He has escaped so
many thrusts that men say he bears a charmed life; and
yet I would Maurice had seen any head but his with the
black halo about it.”

“My children,” said the elder Wilford, with something
of solemnity in his tone, “if we may not have the power
to do aught by a message of warning that would scarce be
listened to if it reached the ears of the intrepid warrior-
Prince, we may yet help him by our prayers. And here
in the city of Antwerp we have still liberty to meet
together to pray to God in our own tongue, and to hear
the holy words of promise and comfort given in the Scrip-
tures. If calamity be hard at hand; if the hand which
guides the helm of state is to be taken away; if dark
clouds are settling over the horizon, and our right to meet



46 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

together in our own houses for prayer and praise be
threatened, let us not lose our privileges whilst they are
still ours. Let us call together our best friends, and ask
them to join with us in an especial manner to pray for the
Prince, and for the righteous cause in which the best years
of his life have been spent. We can at least do that, if
we can do nothing else; and it is meet and right we
should make known our requests unto God, as He has
bidden us.”

There was a unanimous and eager assent to this proposi-
tion, and before long a goodly number of burgher-citizens
had assembled in the long family apartment in Hooch
Straet. Such assemblies were by no means rare in that
house, for a copy of the entire Bible in the native tongue
was to be found there; and those who possessed only
fragments of the Scriptures, and had not all skill to
read what they possessed, gladly came to hear them read
and expounded by those better instructed; and both
Thomas Wilford and the elder Van der Hammer were
excellent readers, and had a decided gift both for exposi-
tion and prayer. .

And now, when the city of Antwerp was once again
seriously threatened by the fires of the Inquisition and
the cruel tyranny of the Spanish rule, it seemed natural
for the people to desire to meet often together whilst they
might, to read and to pray, and to discuss those very
subjects about which to think might soon be death. The
more thoughtful of the inhabitants of the city, knowing the
strength of Spain, the relentless tenacity of purpose that



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 47

characterized Philip the Second, and the brilliant genius of
the Prince of Parma, by no means shared the turbulent,
defiant spirit of the bulk of the citizens, and were far more
disposed to listen to counsels of prudence, and respond to
any suggestions from their great champion, than to trust
blindly in their own strength and believe themselves in-
vincible. Many hundreds of them remembered too well
the bloody Spanish Fury under Alva. Although the
Prince of Parma had shown himself a man of vastly
different calibre from his bloody predecessor, it was yet
impossible to forget that the soldiers under him were of
the hated Spanish race, and that a general could not al-
ways hold their savage passions in check, however much
he might desire it. Antwerp had fallen once; it was
impossible, therefore, to deny that it might fall again. And
though the wise minority were overborne in the present
by the turbulent and hot-headed majority, they had not
given up hope of being able even yet to bring the bulk of
the citizens to a more reasonable frame of mind. Mean-
time to meet together for prayer, and to appoint a day
of fasting and humiliation to be observed by those who
realized the gravity of the situation, seemed a right and
natural thing; and the room in Hooch Straet was quickly
crowded with grave-faced men and women, all deeply
conscious that the times in which they moved were times
of deepest importance and of very great peril.

Earnest indeed were the prayers offered up for the
distracted country, and for the great Prince upon whose
life so much seemed to hang. Maurice’s dream of evil



48 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

import was whispered about from one to another, and
heads were gravely shaken, for many there present had
reason to remember some strange and fatal fulfilment of
a like dream.

“Tf the Prince were to be taken away, the cause of
freedom and religion must surely be lost to us,” said more
than one voice; but as that whisper reached the ears of
the Wilford father, he rose up in his seat with intent to
speak, and a hush fell upon the room.

“My friends,” he said, speaking in the Dutch tongue,
which was as familiar to him as his own language, “I
scarce think that that is the fashion in which our God
would have us think or speak. Has He not given us
command not to put our trust in princes nor in any child
of man; nay, not though He Himself raise up those
princes to be our help in times of trouble? They are
instruments in His hand, and as such we value and revere
them; yet we must ever remember that they are but
instruments, and not learn to look upon them as the
saviours of the people. There is one only Saviour, one
only Prince and Lord. The King of kings is our shield
and defence, and to Him we must look when the clouds
and tempest seem most ready to overwhelm us. That is
the thought which should ever be present with us when
we think with shrinking and fear of seeing our earthly
rulers taken from us. In our prayers we are ready enough
to acknowledge that God is our refuge and strength, a
very present help in time of trouble. We boldly stand
forth and declare that we will not fear though the tempests



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 49

rage and swell, and the mountains be removed into the
midst of the sea. We declare with one voice that the Lord
of Hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge. And
should these words be heard only in our acts of prayer and
praise? Ought not their spirit to be breathed forth in
our daily life? Ought not we to exhibit day by day, in
face of all peril which may come to us, that steadfast
confidence in the Lord’s sovereign power we are so ready
to testify to with our lips? Is our testimony to be of the
lips only? Is our faith only assumed whilst we kneel and
pray to God? Is it not strong enough to go forth with
us into the stress of the world without, and to keep us
calm in the midst of many terrors? We know not what
God’s providence may have in store for us—we know not
what trials He may see fit to send us; but so long as we
look first to Him, and only secondly to those men He has
raised up in His mercy to be our rulers and counsellors,
then we need not lose heart or courage whatever may
betide us. He is the Lord of earth as well as of the
heavens. Upon Him should our hopes and our hearts be
set, and then most assuredly we need not fear though our
earthly props may be taken away, and we may seem for a
moment to be as a bark without a helmsman. God will
not desert us as long as we trust in Him. That should be
our help and stay even in the darkest hour of the night.”
These words were received with a murmur of assent,
and the little meeting broke up cheered and comforted.
It needed some such reminders from time to time to keep

even these members of the reformed flock from sinking
(444) 4



50 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

down into a blind trust in their leaders, rather than in the
justice of their cause and the support they always looked
to receive from God. The past few years, during which
they had enjoyed freedom of religious opinion, had not
been years of unmixed advance. There had been time for
divisions and jealousies to arise between the different
factions even amongst those who held mainly the same
views, and though in moments of danger they would mass
together as of old, there was a good deal of bickering at
other times, and a decided tendency towards that luke-
warmness which had led so many of the lower Provinces
to permit themselves to be placed again beneath the
Spanish yoke, even after they had tasted something of the
sweets of freedom. The weariness of the long struggle
sapped away the resolution of some, belief in the delusive
’ promises of Spain blinded the eyes of others, and treachery
within the walls had given back many a fair city to
slavery that had won its way to freedom through rivers
of blood.

Would Antwerp show a like spirit? That was the
question ceaselessly exercising the minds of the most
thoughtful of her citizens. Her position was critical to
the last degree, even more so than she realized herself;
and with her would fall the whole of Flanders and
Brabant, leaving only Holland and Zeeland to oppose a
frail bulwark to the resistless might of Spain. And should
another blow fall upon the devoted Provinces in the death
of their great Prince, whose life was being ceaselessly
sought by the tyrant of the Escorial, it might well be that



A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 51

despair would paralyze the whole population, left suddenly
without their head; wherefore it was well that men should
remind each other of the too-often-forgotten fact that in
God’s hands rest the final issues of all such struggles, and
that men are but His instruments, to be used for the
furtherance of His great purposes.

“T am glad thou didst speak so, brother Wilford,” said
Van der Hammer, when their guests had dispersed, and
the women were laying the long table for supper. “For
whether or not there be trouble coming upon us, it is well
from time to time to hear such words. We are all frail
creatures, prone to forget God in man. It is right that
we should be reminded that though we are all called
upon to do our utmost in the righteous cause, yet that
God is in our midst, working for and with us. If we
should either now or at some future time lose our great —
champion, we must not yield to despair on that account ;
and we must strive to do all we may to infuse courage
into those about us. Son Maurice, thou shalt be set a
task before the next Sabbath, when our friends will meet
with us again. Thou hast a pretty gift for music. Thou
shalt make us a new hymn to sing; and thou shalt take
for thy theme these stirring words, ‘The Lord is a Man of
War; Jehovah is His Name’ ”



CHAPTER IIL.
EVIL TIDINGS.

“ AR’S END, forsooth!” sneered the little wizened

old man with the dark Italian face who sat
poring over a great tome by the light of a lamp of extra-
ordinary brilliance. Call it rather the Folly of Antwerp ;
for it is the biggest folly they have committed yet, and
that is not saying a small thing.”

“ Well, Signor Gianibelli, I only tell you what is told me,”
answered Malcolm Wilford, laughing. “All the city says
that when once she is afloat she will chase the Spaniards
out of the land, and put an end to the war. I went to
have a look at her lying in the dock. She will be a
monster when she is finished; and is to be made shot-
proof, so that no hurt can come to her from the fire of the
enemy. Her own guns will riddle the foe, whilst none
can touch her. Her bulwarks are ten feet thick, and she
will be able to carry one thousand men upon her.”

The sneer slowly deepened on the subtle face of the
weird-looking old man.

“And she will cost money enough to victual the city
for months; and when she is done she will but prove the



EVIL TIDINGS. 53

folly of her contrivers. Bah, boy! talk not to me of your
clumsy Antwerp devices. Your citizens have as much
brain amongst them as would serve one hen to bring up
a brood of chickens! War's End, forsooth! The Beginning
of Blunders would be a better name.”

Malcolm laughed. He dearly loved “drawing” the
irritable little Italian mechanician, with whom he had
somehow contrived to establish something like friendly
relations. This queer old foreigner, who had lived several
years in the city of Antwerp, was a man of wonderful
genius; but was accounted by some a dreamer, and by
others a sorcerer, whilst his very existence was unknown
to the world at large, though a day was at hand when
every soul in the city should have heard his name. He
was a man of invention and of extraordinary ingenuity ;
but had met the usual fate of his class, had been sneered
at and flouted, and had had the mortification of hearing
his treasured schemes made light of and his inventions
thrust incredulously aside. He had been a great traveller,
and had been not long ago as far as the Spanish court
at Madrid, striving to get audience of the King; but
disgusted by the treatment he received from the proud
courtiers, he had at length retired in dudgeon and despair,
and was now living quietly at Antwerp, brooding over his
wrongs, wrapped up in a hundred various ingenious plans,
and steadily resolved to be revenged upon the Spaniards
if fate should give him his chance. He had no love for
the people amongst whom he lived. He sneered at the dull
wits of the Dutch as much as he raved at the proud insolence



54 EVIL TIDINGS.

of the Spaniards’ There was no spark of patriotism or
love of liberty in the man. He would strike a blow for
Antwerp when the time came, if he could, but from private
pique rather than public spirit He had made many
enemies in the town and hardly one friend. His neigh-
bours feared him, accounting him a wizard, and were ,
polite out of sheer fear. But Malcolm was the only being
who came in and out of that queer little triangular house
wedged in between Closter Straet and the narrow thorough-
fare of Crommenellebogh, hardly a stone’s throw from his
own abode in Hooch Straet, though it seemed almost a
different world, so dim and dark was it, and full of strange
odours and mysterious tools.

The old man always sitting over his books, or with
some strange bit of mechanism before him, was in himself
a study, and one which a painter would have delighted to
portray on canvas, as the light from the lamp threw the
eager face into intense relief from the blackness that sur-
rounded him. ,

It was a strange face, full of subtlety and power—the
parchment-like skin drawn tightly over the sharp features,
and puckered into a network of minute wrinkles about
the eyes and temples, the sunken cheeks, the glittering
eyes as black as night and full of sombre fire, and the
cold, sneering mouth, thin-lipped and compressed, seeming
to speak of an iron will and powers of immense concentra-
tion. The hair was not grizzled, but was raven black
sprinkled freely with silver. It grew very luxuriantly,
and gave a leonine wildness to the aspect of the head.



EVIL TIDINGS. © ee

Self-controlled and sneeringly calm as was this man gener-
ally, he was subject to wild outbreaks of passion when his
wrath was stirred—fury-fits that once witnessed were
never forgotten. Something in the expression of the face
suggested the idea of fierce passions kept under stern
control ; but Malcolm never talked long to the old Italian
without being reminded of a voleano that might look
peaceful and harmless to the outward eye, and yet would
suddenly spout forth burning lava and fierce flames.

To tell the whole truth, Malcolm might scarcely have
striven as he had done to win his way with this strange
old man had it not been for the fact that Gianibelli pos-
sessed a daughter, the one and only being he appeared
ever to have loved (for of his wife he never spoke, and
even the girl had never extracted a single word from him
about the mother she could not remember), and for whom,
in his peculiar wayward fashion, he certainly entertained a
considerable amount of affection—that is, when his occu-
pations left him time to think of the domestic side of life.

Veronica was a girl well fitted to make the sunshine of
her strange and lonely home. She was a wonderfully
radiant young creature, with something of her father’s
intense brilliance of eye, but with features all her own,
sweet as well as noble, winsome as well as dignified. She
had a broad, thoughtful brow, exquisitely-chiselled fea-
tures, a complexion of a clear olive tint that in moments
of excitement took a rich damask bloom, and lips that
quivered and varied’ in expression with every varying
emotion, and seemed made for kisses, as Malcolm failed



56 EVIL TIDINGS.

not to tell her, when once he knew that his ardent love
was returned, and that the heart he had so long striven
to win was truly his own.

But things had gone no further with the young people.
than a mutual confession of love. It was scarce the time
to think of marrying or giving in marriage in these stormy,
troubled days, and Veronica well knew that her father
would simply fly off into one of his wild fits of fury if
Malcolm were to ask her hand in wedlock. Indeed, she
plainly told her lover that she saw no hope of ever being
able to be his; but of course the ardent youth was in no
wise daunted by such a fear, and plainly told her he would
serve for her like Jacob for Rachel, but that he would
have her at the last, father or no father.

And she listened with a smile, making light, as did he,
of the needful days of waiting,—strong in their hope, their
happiness, and their love. It seemed so easy to wait when
they might see each other daily. And as Malcolm passed
day by day down the Closter Straet on his way to the
Citadel, he never failed to catch the sparkle of Veronica’s
bright eyes, and knew that she was looking for him, and
was proud of his martial air and soldier-like trappings.

Whether the old father knew what was passing be-
neath his very eyes the lovers neither knew nor cared.
Malcolm was weleome to drop in for a chat whenever he
chose, and there was a seat at the frugal board for him if
he chose to remain for the simple meal of vegetable and
soup which was the ordinary repast of the Italian and his
daughter. Veronica was a cook of no small skill, and



EVIL TIDINGS. 57

beneath her hands the simple viands took a flavour which
often made Malcolm marvel.

“We shall fatten when you are all starving,” the old
man would say sometimes, with his grim, sneering smile.
“You fat, greedy Dutch must live always like fighting-
cocks, else your courage ebbs as fast as the tide of the
Scheldt. Wait till Parma has built his bridge, and you
will see.”

Malcolm never argued with the subtle Italian, always
knowing he should be worsted if he tried, though he might
have cited many noble cases where starving cities had held
out in the teeth of fearful privations against the tyranny
of the Spanish arms. But the youth himself was not so
confident as he would fain have been as to the temper of
his own townsmen. There was something selfish in the
democracy of Antwerp, as had been abundantly shown
before now. Fight they might, and fiercely and well;
but suffer? Ah, there was the rub! Malcolm was not
sure how they would behave should famine and dearth
stalk abroad through the streets. .

But that Antwerp was not going to submit tamely to
the foreign yoke was exemplified in a dozen different ways ;
and now all the citizens were running wild with enthu-
siasm over this great floating monster, which was already
named the War's End, and was to be strong enough to
bombard Parma’s chimerical bridge (when it should be
built) and scatter it to the four winds of heaven.

Even Malcolm, who had had his doubts as to the sea-
worthiness of this monster ship when first he heard of



58 EVIL TIDINGS.

it, had been carried away by the idea that it would
really serve some great purpose, and he argued the point
still with the Italian, though in a jocular fashion. Veron-
ica passed in and out of the little chamber, coming in for
a snatch of talk between her various household duties,
when suddenly they became aware of some excitement in
the streets, and Malcolm stepped out to find everybody
running helter-skelter.down the Crommenellebogh in the
direction of the Hoy Kay.

“What is it?” asked Veronica, with her hand upon his
arm. “What is happening thus to move the people?
Malcolm caro, run not into peril, if peril be abroad; or
take me with thee an thou goest. I would know myself
what has befallen.”

It was no very unwonted thing for there to be seen
these eager crowds of hurrying citizens hastening down
towards the river’s edge. In times of ceaseless skirmish-
ing, and of attack and menace, hardly a day passed with-
out something to arouse excitement, were it but for an
hour. There had been the sound of guns heard in the city
that day from the direction of the forts of Lillo and Lief-
kenshoek—twin fortresses held by the patriots, facing
each other some way down the river, built upon the great
dikes, and guarding the city from the approach of hostile
vessels. The brave Teligny commanded the former place,
and Colonel John Pettin of Arras the latter. The posses-
sion of these two forts was, as may well be seen, of the
first importance to the city of Antwerp, and it was no
surprise to the citizens to hear firing from their neighbour-



EVIL TIDINGS. 59

hood. There was ceaseless skirmishing warfare kept up
by the belligerent armies drawing their circles closer and
closer about the central spot—the queenly city upon whose
fate so much depended—and the sounds alone had not
aroused any alarm in the breasts of the people.

But that some news of no small importance had been
brought in now was evident. On all faces was stamped
a look of expectation and of dismay. It was plain that
evil tidings had reached the place.

“What is it?” asked Malcolm anxiously of one and
another; but nobody seemed able to answer the question,
and the only word he could catch as it passed from mouth
to mouth through the hurrying throng was—

“ Liefkkenshoek ! Liefkenshoek !”

“ Heaven send we have not lost Liefkenshoek!” cried
the youth, with a face of grave anxiety, as he turned
towards Veronica and gently pushed her within doors.
“Stay there, my beloved. I will down to the quay and
learn the news, and will return with it to thee anon. Thy
father would not wish thee to mingle with yon hurrying
crowd. I will not be long in coming back to thee.”

Veronica reluctantly let him go. She would not have
feared had she been at his side, but she was fearful
of peril for him when she was no longer able to see
him. With that high courage which often accompanies
a sensitive and imaginative spirit, she would have dared
any danger, so that they shared it together. She wished
in her heart that, if the net did close around Antwerp,
its women as well as its men might join in the defence,



60 EVIL TIDINGS.

as had many times been done ere now during the years of
bloodshed that had just rolled by. By Malcolm’s side she
would face anything. It was seeing him go forth alone
to danger and perhaps to death that she found so un-
speakably hard.

“What is all that coil in the streets, girl?” asked the
old man’s voice from within. “Stand thou not there by
the open door, Veronica. Thou art no longer a child;
thou must learn modesty and discretion. Come in, and
close the door and the shutters; yon tumult disturbs me.”

Veronica obeyed, though with reluctance. She was
keenly interested in every vicissitude that befell the city of
their adoption. She had lived five years in Antwerp, and
the greatest happiness of her life had come to her there.
Roman Catholic by training though she was, she was an
ardent advocate of the cause of liberty ; and since Malcolm
had begun to talk with her upon the matters connected
with his faith, she had begun to weave together the old
traditions and the new, and to find in them almost as much
of harmony as of discord; rather to her own surprise, for
she had been brought up to look upon them as creeds at
deadly variance.

“What new folly is on foot now 2” quoth the old man,
with his ready sneer. “When we live in a city of fools,
we must put up with these nightly and daily outbreaks of
folly. What are they saying now, child ?”

“I know not, father; I can only hear them speak of
Lietkenshoek. I misdoubt if the people who cry out know
what has befallen. Why, padre mio, what ails thee 2?”



EVIL TIDINGS. 61

For the old man had risen quickly from his seat with a
strange glitter in his eye.

“Fools! fools!” he cried aloud, in his mocking voice,
“Did not I say so? did not I warn them ?”

“Warn them of what, my father ?”

“That their fortifications there were incomplete; that
upon the Flemish side a breach could easily be made; that
if the place were to be held against the great Parma, more
work must be done there. Yea, I told it them—and they
laughed. Fools! fools! they ever do laugh when words
of wisdom be spoken to them. Have they not ever derided
me when I have opened my lips, even as they are scorn-
ing now the counsel of the one man in this distracted
country of fools whose word is worth listening to? If they
have lost Liefkenshoek, they have but themselves to thank.
Ho, ho! if this be the way Antwerp sets to work to
repel the besieging foe, a fine spectacle will she give the
world before all be over! If these things be done in the
green tree, what will be done in the dry?” And the old
man’s subtle face took a look which made Veronica shrink
slightly ; for although she loved and reverenced her father,
she did not love this wild vein of scornful cynicism which
always seemed to make him delight in the misfortunes
that overtook others, even though those others were nomi-
nally his friends.

“Tt may not be so bad as that,” she answered gently,
“Perchance there has been some attack upon Liefken-
shock. But Malcolm promised to come back anon with
the news.”



bs EVIL TIDINGS.

Gianibelli grunted as he returned to his heavy tome,
but was not displeased at this, for he was eager after news,
even though assuming indifference towards it. Veronica
listened intently for the sound of returning footsteps, and
sprang to open the door before Malcolm had had time to -
knock for admittance. She knew his step amongst a
hundred, and her quick ears gave her warning of his
approach before he reached the threshold. He came in
looking very grave, his face pale with anger and mortifica-
tion. Veronica saw at a glance that he was the bearer of
evil tidings.

“Tt is too true,” he said in a low voice: “the Spaniards
have carried Liefkenshoek at a blow. Scarce twenty men
out of the eight hundred there have escaped to tell the
tale. O my God! what have we done to deserve such
terrible misfortune? Liefkenshoek—darling’s corner! Well,
our darling fortress has cost us dear—eight hundred of
our bravest soldiers put to the sword, and the Spanish flag
waving above the ramparts !”

“I knew it! I knew it!” cried the Italian, in a strange
tone of mingled exultation and scorn. “Did I not say
that the fortifications were incomplete 2”

“Ay, verily you did,” answered Malcolm, with a bitter
sigh; “and it only adds a poignancy to the blow to know

that the fault lies at home. It was that weak place,

which was known to but ignored by our foolhardy bur-
egg: that has been our undoing. They say that the
Prince of Parma reconnoitred the fort in person; and to-

day the Marquis of Richebourg, with a hundred picked



EVIL TIDINGS. 63

veterans, made a dash upon the weak spot, took it by sur-
prise, and was quickly followed by the whole regiment.
All who were not slain within the walls were chased along
the dike and either killed by the sword or drowned in the
sullen waters. Scarce twenty men have escaped, wounded
and bleeding, to tell the evil news in the city. They say
that the brave Colonel Pettin has been carried to the Prince
of Parma. But there is a rumour rife that the Marquis
stabbed him to the heart with his own hand. Heaven
help this distracted city if troubles like these are to fall
upon her, and no head wise enough to direct her or hand
strong enough to hold the reins!”

“In sooth it needs a strong hand to hold the reins when
there be a team of wild horses to drive, all pulling different
ways!” said the Italian, with his peculiar sneering smile.
“There is but one hand which could accomplish that task ;
and if Antwerp be wise, instead of the city of fools she
loves to show herself, she will send an earnest deputation
to the Prince of Orange, imploring him to come in person
to her, if but for one week, to examine into all things
personally himself, and try to set matters going in the
right direction, without this everlasting conflict of opinion,
which will be the ruin of the cause if it be not suppressed.
Indeed I would he would come; it would give all Antwerp
hope and enthusiasm to see his grave face and stately
figure again.”

There was a malicious gleam in Gianibelli’s eyes as he
went on with his speech, which was rather a monologue
than an attempt at conversation.



64 EVIL TIDINGS.

“You lovers of freedom, who will naught either of King
or Pope, but will think for yourselves, govern yourselves,
worship for yourselves, are finding out, by slow and sure
degrees, that you are but changing one tyrant for many;
one faith for a thousand petty beliefs, no two alike; order
for confusion, rule for anarchy. Oh yes, my young friend,
you may colour and bite your lip, but you will find my
words are true. Look at this distracted city. She owns
the sway neither of King nor of Pope, and what has she
gained thereby? She is governed by a hydra-headed
monster that knows not good from evil, light from dark-
ness, wisdom from folly. She is swayed by a maddened
and inflamed crowd, all thinking differently, all acting for
self and not for the public weal. Mark my words, young
soldier of the republic, Antwerp will fall, and she will de-
serve her fate. No man ever yet was fit to rule who had
not learned how to submit himself first to the powers that
be. Antwerp will fall because that she strives to run ere
she can walk; she throws off the rightful rule of those
above her ere she knows one fragment of the art of self-
government. Blind in her folly, mad in her arrogance, she
is courting her own destruction; and unless she summons
to her aid the one man who could save her from herself,
she falls !”

Malcolm walked homewards in no small depression of
spirit, with these words of evil omen ringing in his ears.
It was not that he believed, as some of his townsfolk cer-
tainly did, that Gianibelli was a sorcerer, and had dealings
with the devil which gave him power to read the secrets



EVIL TIDINGS. 65

of the future. But he was well assured that the subtle-
minded and keen-witted Italian possessed gifts both of
insight and judgment far in advance of the majority of
men; hence anything which passed his lips came with a
semblance of authority, although in his moments of excite-
ment and rage he generally spoke a good deal more than
he meant.

“Antwerp will fall! Antwerp will fall!” The words
seemed to ring like a knell in his head; and when he
reached home he found that the evil news had already
preceded him. Grave anxiety was upon every face. The
two fathers were talking together in low and anxious
tones ; the women were pale and tearful; Lionel’s face was
set and stern; whilst Otto and Joris were working away
polishing their arms with a look of resolve upon their
‘faces that seemed to imply some settled purpose; and
Maud came forward as Malcolm appeared, her face flushed
and excited, erying as she took him by the arm,—

“O Malcolm, hast heard the news? Liefkenshoek has
fallen to the enemy; and to-morrow Joris and Otto and
their company go to Lillo to join Teligny’s young bachelors
there. Every one is saying that Mondragon will storm
Lillo next ; and if that falls too, Antwerp is lost indeed !”

“Join Count Teligny in Fort Lillo! marry, a good
thought,” cried Malcolm, whose young blood was tingling
to be up and doing. “I will forth with them too.—Harold,
art thou not going likewise? I would I could be in half
a hundred places at once, so I could meet the Spaniards

face to face in all!”
(444) 5



66 EVIL TIDINGS.

“Gently, lad, gently,” answered Lionel, smiling as he
patted his impetuous brother’s shoulder; “we must not
rob the city of too many of her most willing soldiers.
With the enemy safely ensconced at Kalloo, and his forts
rising, day by day, as if by magic around us, we must be
ready for assault at home as well as abroad. We must
not too greatly drain the resources of the city. We are
sending one company to reinforce Fort Lillo, which is
certain to be the next point attacked; and it chances that
it is the company in which Joris and Otto are enrolled.
Thy turn will come another day, my boy; thou mayest be
very sure of that. This siege of our city will not end
before we have all of us fought hand to hand with our
foes, and have tested the mettle of which we are made in
the face of cold Spanish steel.”

“God preserve us all!” spoke the juffrouw Van der
Hammer, as she gave a shuddering glance round at the
circle of loved faces about her. Well did she remember
those awful days, not yet ten years since, when the Span-
iards had wrecked the fair city of Antwerp amid scenes of
indescribable horror. Their own house had escaped as by
a miracle; and the children had been all sent out of the
city before the commencement of the siege, that they might
escape the privations their elders were content to suffer
in the good cause; so that they had not witnessed the
horrors which, however, they had heard so often described
that they seemed to be as well acquainted with them as
their parents. Under the milder rule of the Prince of
Parma, Alva’s atrocities were not like to be repeated, and



EVIL TIDINGS. 67

Antwerp was perhaps something over-secure in her con-
fidence of being able to resist the threatened doom of cap-
ture; but the women quaked and felt a qualm of fear at
every whisper of evil tidings, and to-night all faces were
grave and all hearts heavy. But those who were going
forth to join the fray and stand in the forefront of the
battle showed the most joyous air, and spoke confidently
of winning back the captured fort when once Mondragon
should have been defeated before the walls of Lillo.

“Tf this calamity would but bring the Prince in person
to Antwerp!” said Malcolm; and many were the exclama-
tions of hope that this might indeed be the case.

Alas, alas! they little knew that the strong hand which
was so sorely needed to hold the reins of government was
already stiff and cold in death, and that the noble heart
which had resisted all allurements, scorned all bribes and
all threats, and been true in the noblest way to the cause
of freedom, had already ceased to beat!

Unhappy Antwerp! robbed at the most critical moment
of her history of the one being whose name yet overbore
in some sort the self-will of the selfish masses——whom all
Antwerpers revered and loved; who might, by his personal
presence and influence, have yet conquered her stubborn
short-sightedness and roused her to the true patriotism
which breathed in his own life. But it was not to be.

Karly the next morning, whilst the sun was rising over
the city, the inhabitants were startled from their tardy
sleep, after the excitements of the evening, by the solemn
tolling of the great bell of Our Lady, and the mournful



68 EVIL TIDINGS.

note was quickly answered from the various other churches
scattered up and down Antwerp.

‘As the first of those doleful notes struck on the ears of
young Maurice, who shared the sleeping-chamber of his
comrade Malcolm, the boy sprang up in his bed with a low
ery of bitter despair.

“Tt has come! it has come!” he cried. “The doom!
the doom!” and jumping up, he commenced to-dress him-
self with all the haste his trembling hands could make,
Malcolm following his example without a word.

Hastening out into the street, they found themselves
joined by pale-faced inquirers from many another house.
Nobody knew at first the meaning of the ceaseless tolling,
but that it boded ill to Antwerp none might doubt; and
as the running groups made their way rapidly into the
open space about the great Cathedral, they heard a sound
of weeping and wailing, and came upon a sight that was
never forgotten by any who witnessed it.

A reeking horse stood with drooping head in the centre
of the square, sniffing at, without touching, the fodder
some humane person had brought for it, though the empty
pail beside it showed that its thirst had been assuaged;
and sitting yet in the saddle, as though the energy to dis-
mount was lacking him, was a man in courtier’s garb,
though stained and spotted with the haste of a rapid
journey without due preparation.

His face was white and his eyes were bloodshot. There
was that in his aspect which struck terror and dismay into
the hearts of all who approached him; and as the throng



EVIL TIDINGS. 69

kept shifting and changing, as those who had heard the
fearful tidings moved away to let others take their place,
he kept repeating his story in a strangely dull, mechanical
way, as though even the power of thought were lost.

“Dead! dead! dead! Shot to the heart by the hand
of an assassin! ‘O my God, have mercy on this poor
people !’—his last words, as I can testify, for I was but
ten yards from him as he fell. The Prince, the Prince,
the noble Prince—the father of his people! God in
heaven look down and avenge his death! Gone in a
moment—dead almost ere we could lift him! O my God,
have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us!”

The voice of the crowd took up that note of prayer,
and amidst the tolling of the bell, and the wild, stormy
weeping of men who had perhaps never shed a tear in
their lives before, there went up as with one voice the
supplication of a great multitude,—

“God have mercy upon us! Christ have mercy upon us!” |

The awe-stricken, white-faced throng looked each other
in the face, scarcely able to believe the fearful story true.
Their Prince and leader taken from them—the one man
who seemed able to cope with the tyrant of Spain, and to
guide the troubled bark of national freedom through the
stormy waters which threatened to overwhelm it! Could
it be true? Surely it was all some horrid dream! Mal-
colm felt young Maurice stagger against him, and threw
his arm about the boy, for he had turned as white as
death.

“Come, let us go home,” he said; “we have learned all



70 EVIL TIDINGS.

too much as it is. Ah, Maurice, Maurice, that dream of
thine was but too true!”

“Speak not of it—let us get home!” gasped the younger
lad, altogether unnerved by the tragic solemnity of the
scene he had witnessed; and Malcolm was glad to clear
a passage through the crowd for his companion, and see
him safe to the sheltering door of home.

Doors and windows all down the Hooch Straet stood
open wide, and pale-faced men and women were coming
crowding out.

“Tt is not true! say it is not true!” cried Maud,
dashing forward, as her brother and his companion ap-
peared. But Maurice’s death-like face and Malcolm’s tear-
dimmed eyes told a tale that could not be misread, and
with a low ery as of despair the girl covered her face with
her hands and fled within again.

Strong men were not ashamed to weep for one who had
been as a father, not to them alone, but to the cause to
which their hearts were pledged, and in which their very
beings were wrapped up. Both the fathers of the double
family were striving to speak, though sobs strangled the
words they would fain have uttered, and the women and
children were weeping aloud as though for some near and
dear one. As though by magic, the whole city was clothed
in black. Men who had never spoken before—who were
strangers to each other—stopped in the streets to mourn
together him who was lost, or enter side by side a church
to join in some service wherein the people remembered the
virtues of him who was gone, and implored the help and



EVIL TIDINGS. 71

protection of the God of heaven for them in their hour of
need. The Roman Catholics knelt before their shrines and
prayed to their saints for him who was gone; for hun-
dreds and thousands of these Romanists, though differing
from the Prince in religious matters, were heart and soul
with the cause of freedom, and honoured and revered its
champion as much as those of his own religious principles.
Throughout the place was there nothing to be heard save
the voice of weeping and wailing. It was a day that all
the land had cause to remember, the memory of which
was never obliterated even by the stirring scenes which
followed.

Lionel was out all day on his various duties; but
coming in at night with:a wearied and harassed air, he
brought tidings that had in them something of comfort.

“We are not going to yield to despair—thank Heaven
for that!” he said, as he met the anxious eyes of the two
elder men bent upon him. “There was but one voice in
the Council to-day, and that voice was, ‘ War to the death !’
—war against tyranny and oppression, war against those
whose devilish plots have caused the death of Europe’s
greatest man. To avenge that death shall be our sacred
duty; and yon assassin in his secret chamber, surrounded
by his slaves and minions, shall have reason to tremble,
thousands of miles away, for the rage and fury he has
kindled in the hearts of this people to-day. William
of Orange shall be avenged! a thousand hearts have

1”

sworn it



CHAPTER IV.
THE COMING STRIFE.

EN went about in those days with set, stern faces.
M The blow which had laid the great Prince in the
grave had struck home also to the hearts of the people,
and the universal mourning was a strange and impressive
sight to see. But if the people all mourned as one man,
as one man, too, they resolved not to abandon in despair
the cause for which their “father,” as they loved to call
him, had laid down his life. From every city came the
news of the same patriotic resolve—to stand to their
colours; to avenge the death of their head by a fuller
measure of resistance to the foe against whom he had been
pledged; to rob the Spanish tyrant of the fruit of his
base triumph ; and to show him that though William the
Silent was dead, his spirit yet lived and worked in those
he had left behind him.

When news reached Antwerp of the fearful doom in-
flicted on the assassin, men listened in stern approval ; and
if these things showed that it was not the Spaniards alone
who understood the art of cruelty, there were few who
expressed horror at the fate of the miscreant or blamed



THE COMING STRIFE. 13

his executioners. The feeling of the nation was that no
fate could be bad enough for him who had slain their
father.

But the cruel death of the assassin could not restore
their leader to them; and soon was Antwerp to feel the
loss she had sustained, for there was none now able to
control the lawless passions and turbulent quarrels of the
nobility—the great men upon whom the control of affairs
now fell; and eager as the majority were to forward the
good cause, there were a thousand differences and diffi-
culties continually arising which no one had authority to
arrange or allay.

Antwerp was speedily to feel the loss of the great
Prince in the procrastination and insubordination of Ad-
miral Treslong.

There was now no doubt that Parma meant seriously
to set about the siege of the city, and therefore it was
of the first importance that the place should be properly
victualled. Sainte Aldegonde had intrusted this matter
to the Admiral, knowing that for bravery and reckless
daring that old “beggar of the sea” could hardly meet
his match.

But with the death of Orange private grudges and
animosities sprang up, and Treslong became restive and
defiant. He was jealous of Sainte Aldegonde, and he was
a bitter enemy of the French policy which was strenuously
advocated by the latter. He was in no sort of haste to
do his bidding—first demanding a certain sort of boat for
the expedition; and then, when these were supplied hin,



74 THE COMING STRIFE.

delaying and frittering away precious time, until at the last
he so exasperated his countrymen that they rose up and
threw him into prison.

These things took time to accomplish. But whilst
bickerings and recriminations were being bandied about
between the nobles, Antwerp was waiting for supplies, and
Parma was working slowly and steadily towards his ap-
pointed end; and the citizens looked each other in the
face as days passed by, and asked when the supplies were
coming which should put the city beyond fear of famine.

Still in these days of July the peril was not imminent;
it was believed that Admiral Treslong and his krom-
stevens, laden with golden grain and supplies of all kinds,
might any time be seen sailing into the city. The loss of
Liefkenshoek, the death of the Prince, and Mondragon’s
threatened attack upon Lillo, absorbed the attention of the
citizens; and for the moment it was hoped that the very
imminence of the peril engendered by their great loss
would draw the States closer together and inflame them
with unselfish and patriotic zeal.

The messenger who had ridden the sixty miles from
Delft to Antwerp in one night, to bring the dread tidings
of the Prince’s death to that city, was lodging now in the
hospitable house in Hooch Straet, whither he had been
brought by Lionel after his tale had been told to the
crowd in the street, and reported again before the Council.

The young man was a courtier in the household of
William of Orange, and had been standing near his master
when the fatal blow had been struck.



THE COMING STRIFE. 75

The assassin had been the bearer of important tidings
relative to the death of the Duke of Anjou, and had been
hanging about the house for above a day. He had had an
interview with the Prince ; but this had been altogether
unexpected, and he had not been armed. He had been so
shabbily attired that the Prince had sent orders for him to
have clothing supplied him at his own cost; and Gerard
was wearing these very clothes when he struck down his
benefactor, firing three bullets into his body as he was
leading the way from the dining-room up the staircase
after he and his guests had dined.

The horror of that scene was indelibly impressed upon
the mind of the young man, and impressed itself vividly
upon the minds of his hearers: the exclamation of the
dying man; the prayer for his country—always the first
thought with him ; his death in a few minutes—commend-
ing his soul by an almost wordless gesture into the hands
of his Saviour. There was not a dry eye in that long room
as the messenger in broken accents told his tale; and the
story of his long ride through the country from three
o'clock upon the fatal day till he arrived in Antwerp at
five the following morning, having changed horses many
times along the route, was listened to with breathless
interest. The universal grief and wailing he everywhere
left behind him; the tolling of the bells, which for days
seemed to ring in his ears; the sight of the blanched faces
which had surrounded him at every halt—all these things
were indelibly engraven on his memory; and as he spoke
of them, his listeners felt as though they saw with his



76 THE COMING STRIFE.

eyes and heard with his ears, and would never, never for-
get that terrible tenth of July so long as time remained.

“Tf we have lost our greatest leader, may we not make
one great sacrifice to his memory?” spoke Lionel Wilford
on the next occasion when the Broad Council met. “It is
but a short while since he sent us the message of earnest
import, imploring us to cut the Kowenstyn Dike. He is
no longer here to urge his will upon us; but may it not
be the greatest tribute we can pay to his memory to do
the thing he desired of us, so that if his spirit can know
what passes here below, he may have the satisfaction of
knowing that for Antwerp, at least, his death has done
more than his life ?”

There was a visible impression produced by these words
upon the assembly. A murmur almost like that of assent
began to arise. Perhaps had the Burgomaster arisen and
made one of his burning and eloquent orations, the day
might yet have been carried. But Sainte Aldegonde had
been half convinced by arguments used before of the dan-
ger to the city from so heroic a remedy against possible
famine, and he remained silent; whilst another counsellor
arose and asked why, if a dike must be pierced, the Saf-
tingen Dike upon the Flemish bank would not answer the
same purpose, for there the land was far less rich and
valuable, and yet the mass of water would equally be
brought up to the walls of Antwerp.

This suggestion was hailed as an inspiration by many at
the Council, who desired to appear to wish to work the
will of the Prince, whilst by no means desirous of foregoing



THE COMING STRIFE. 17

their private interests. The Burgomaster, however, made
‘doubtful answer. He said that when he himself had pro-
posed that plan to the Prince, the latter had pointed out
many serious objections; and it was certainly open to the
objection that the Prince of Parma’s camp was on the Flem-
ish side of the river, and that this camp and all its ad-
jacent forts would neutralize to a great extent the value
of the rupture. So in the end nothing came of Lionel’s
move but a vast amount of talk, which ended, as was only
too common, in recrimination and disputings, whilst the
whole question of dike-piercing went again into abeyance,
until the hour was past.

“Tt is useless to strive more,” said Lionel, on his return
home ; “the people are resolved to blind their eyes. They
will see nothing but that which they wish to see. I spoke
my word. I did what I could. But our Burgomaster is
himself discouraged and half-hearted in the matter. And
neither he nor any person in Antwerp yet believes that
Parma’s bridge can ever be built.”

“Gianibelli says it can,” remarked Malcolm, looking up.
“He says it can, and that he could do it.”

“He is a fond dreamer,” remarked Maud, with a little
laugh. “Methinks he believes he could overturn the
world, if great men would but listen to his wild schemes.”

“Not always so wild as thou thinkest, my sister,” an-
swered Malcolm, with a smile. “I have not learning
enough to understand all his talk—may, nor more than
a tithe of it—but there be times when his words strike
home like a ray of light, and I see in a moment things I



78 THE COMING STRIFE.

had not dreamed of before. He is a wonderful man, and
he knows more of those arts of mining and construction
than any soul I have ever seen, or any one in Antwerp, I
take it.”

“ And he is Veronica’s father,” whispered Maud, with a
mischievous smile in her eyes, as she bent over her brother ;
“and so he must needs find a champion in thee.”

A bright colour arose in the young man’s cheek; but he
made no response in words, only flashing at her a glance
of warning—for at present this love of his was kept a
secret in his own breast, only revealed to his sister because
she was very near and dear to him.

“He is a clever man,” said Lionel, “a man of learning
and genius; and yet I mislike him. He has the air of a
mocker against man and God. Still, he knows what he
says, and if he thinks our wide and turbulent river may be
bound by a bridge—as it was plain the great Prince like-
wise did—it behoves us the more to think carefully what
we do, lest we be overtaken in the snare that is set for us.”

“But,” said Malcolm, with a bright, eager light in his
eyes, “he says, too, that if the Prince of Parma builds the
bridge, he can destroy it by one single gigantic blow,
such as shall make the ears of all Europe tingle. And in
all faith I trow he could do that which he says. Me-
thinks it is no idle boast. I verily believe the thing could
be done. He has almost shown me how.”

The girls pressed round him with eager curiosity.

“Nay, Malcolm, but how? Tell us!” they cried, with
bated breath, “Is it by some witchcraft and sorcery ?”



THE COMING STRIFE. 79

“Nay, nay,” answered the youth, smiling. “Do ye not
know that all such tall is idle folly—the folly of men
who know not what they say? Our Italian friend deals
not in soreery—if there be such a thing in the world,
which our parents bid us doubt. He only uses those
things we all of us use day by day and hour by hour,
little knowing what power in them lies. He knows their
properties. He has a mine of lore, which helps him to
constant new discoveries, and each discovery is what he
calls a step towards the goal. But I must not divulge to
you what he has told me. He pledged me to silence, and
my word must not be broken. All I may say I have
said—that if the bridge were to be built, he could shatter
it at a blow; he says it himself, and I believe that it is
true.”

“Heaven send it may be so!” said juffrouw Van der
Hammer, with a slight shudder; “for it is a fearful thing
to be cut off from all one’s friends, and shut within a city
fenced about with foes. We who have been through it
once know what it is like.”

“Ah, but it will never be like that again, grandam,”
cried Philip eagerly. “Why, everybody says the French
king will shortly send a great army and drive the Prince
of Parma out of the country. Now that the Prince of
Orange is dead, they say that he will be King not only of
our lower Provinces, but of Holland and Zeeland as well—
which was the only thing that made the difficulty before
with the envoys. Don’t you know, as long as our Prince
lived, Holland and Zeeland would never have obeyed any-



80 THE COMING STRIFE.

body but him? and the proud French were in a manner
jealous of his influence. But now that their King may
have undisputed sovereignty, he will no longer hesitate,
and we shall soon see the Spaniards swept from the land,
and enjoy our ancient rights and privileges under the pro-
tection of our brothers of France !”

Philip was repeating the talk that was common in the
city, and popular amongst its citizens, who were not over
and above well informed as to the nature of the negotia-
tion on foot, and were absolutely ignorant of the profound
and complicated game of dissimulation and intrigue being
played by the various parties at the French Court, and by
the Spanish potentate himself. The confidence felt through-
out the lower Provinces that France would speedily come
to their rescue, was doing more to paralyze their own
efforts after freedom than any disunion amongst them-
selves could do; and it seemed to many that the death
of the Prince of Orange would tend to facilitate the nego-
tiation, by inducing Holland and Zeeland to throw them-
selves as unreservedly into the arms of the French as
Brabant and Flanders were prepared to do, who had par-
tially submitted themselves again to Spain, but hoped that
France would come forward and drive out the hated foe
from their midst.

The elder members of the Wilford family, however, did
not share the confidence of their townsfolk ; though they
kept their misgivings for the most part to themselves, as,
if they spoke of them openly, it was regarded as a sign
of treachery and their foreign lukewarmness in the cause.



THE COMING STRIFE. 81

Lukewarmness was in reality sapping away the strength
of Antwerp, as the abandonment of Hérenthals plainly
showed. It was another of those extraordinary blunders
that were a marked feature all through this momentous
siege. Hérenthals might not appear very valuable to
Antwerp, but it was of immense value to the Spaniards,
who at once took possession of it.

“It is plain the Prince of Orange is dead,” was the
remark of their leader as he walked in unopposed, and
Antwerp awoke, as usual when it was too late, to see the
folly of her apathy.

As the days and weeks sped by, and there was no news
of Admiral Treslong, save that he was still mutinous and
refractory, and had been openly censured by the States-
General (with the effect only of increasing his defiance and
insubordination), the garrison and citizens alike became
anxious about the question of supply, and prices began to
rise with alarming rapidity.

As soon as this was known, there were plenty of bold
Zeeland skippers to be found ready to run cargoes of corn
and other provisions into Antwerp (though Parma’s vigi-
lance along the left bank of the river rendered the task
both difficult and dangerous), in order to obtain double or
treble the price for their wares that they could get else-
where.

But it was hazardous traffic, as many of them found
to their cost; and had they not been hardy and almost
amphibious creatures, and perhaps the most experienced

sailors in the world for that species of water traffic, the
(444) 6



82 THE COMING STRIFE.

task would have been even more difficult and hazardous
than it was.

‘But the Spaniards were almost as eager after food as
the citizens of Antwerp. Cleverly as they tried to conceal
the fact, supplies. with them were terribly low. Their
master, who expected so much from his soldiers, kept them
villanously ill-paid and ill-fed; and these tempting loads
of eatables passing into the city were a mark for the
Spanish soldiers that they keenly prized. Antwerp was
soon to know what deadly peril their brave allies ran who
were bringing them food in the teeth of Spanish hunger
and Spanish guns.

“The boats are coming! the boats are coming!” Such
was the cry passed up the streets one brilliant August
morning. It was a welcome cry to housewives and pru-
dent citizens, for they were all beginning to make private
preparations against the possible scarcity with which
they were threatened; and at the news of any boats
bearing up with the tide to the city walls, hundreds of
persons would crowd down to the Hoy Kay, where the
usual landings were made, and try to fill their baskets
with such provisions as were to be had. Some boat-loads
were bought intact by the city authorities ; but there were
certain skippers who traded direct with the citizens, and
as it was usual for a number of boat-loads to come in to-
gether—generally on a high tide, which had helped them
to pass quickly beneath the Spanish guns, and to avoid
their boats in the chase—large numbers of persons flocked
down to the quay, all eager to see what quality of goods



THE COMING STRIFE. 83

was arriving, and what share they themselves could ob-
tain.

Roosje was always foremost, if possible, at the arrival
of the boat. She was the practical manager of that large
double household, which comprised so -many members, old
people and tender children, as well as the young and
strong, and it was natural that she should feel anxious
to fill her store-places with all such food as would keep
through the winter months, when provisions might be
scarce and yet more dear. She had begun a private vict-
ualling of her own before the city generally commenced
to trouble about it, and was almost always foremost on the
quay to see the boats come in, her sisters or brothers often
accompanying her to help in the bargains and in the carry-
ing up of the loads purchased.

Sometimes her husband was with her, questioning the
skippers about the doings of the enemy along the dikes,
and the increase or decrease of their numbers. The fall of
Liefkenshoek to the Spaniards had seriously impaired the
food traffic into the city. Formerly there had been little
peril to encounter before the boats reached Kalloo, where
Parma’s bridge preparations were being commenced. Now
they were openly fired on from the fort so ingloriously
lost; and though Lillo did its best to shield and protect
them, several cargoes of grain had been sunk there as it
was, whilst others had fallen into the hands of the Span-
iards, and the unfortunate Zeelanders had been butchered
in cold blood.

News of the fate of the first convoy sent after the fall



84 THE COMING STRIFE.

of Liefkenshoek (before the Zeelanders had realized that
they had enemies there instead of friends) had reached
the city from Lillo a day or two before, and therefore the
arrival of these boats was hailed withthe greater satis-
faction. People had for a few days been really afraid that
supplies might already begin to fail them, and therefore at
the first appearance of this little flotilla there was a general
rush down to the Hoy Kay.

The boats were still some little way off by the time
Roosje, together with Coosje, Malcolm, and Maurice, ar-
rived at the water’s side, and there was quite a concourse
gathered there in expectation of their arrival.

There was a little haze hanging over the river, and the
outline of the vessels was not very clearly seen; but the
slowness with which they approached excited wonder and
curiosity amongst the impatient waiters.

“They are not wont to come thus!”—* There is not
wind to swell the sails!”—* No; but why do they not take
to their oars, as they are wont to do ?”—“ What has come
to them, that they are content thus to drift ?”—-“ Heaven
send this be not another misfortune pending !”—“ By the
Holy Virgin,” cried a woman of the Roman Catholic
faith, crossing herself devoutly, “I fear me they are phan-
tom ships sent hither by the devil to delude us!”

And then a silence fell upon all the waiting crowd, as
though each feared to hazard an opinion as to what this
strange sight might mean.

Nearer and nearer drifted the boats with the rising
tide, and a strange sound of moaning was heard from the



THE COMING STRIFE. 85

foremost. Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Mal-
colm flung off his shoes and his upper tunic and plunged
into the river, followed by a cheer from the crowd. He
struck out boldly, and quickly reached the foremost boat,
into which he adroitly scrambled. For a moment he dis-
appeared from view, stooping down as though to look at
something lying in the bottom of the little craft, and then
he suddenly seized a great paddle, and rapidly propelled
the boat towards the quay.

“A curse upon the Spaniards!” was the one word he
uttered through his shut teeth as he drove the vessel up
against the stone wall; and as it was held fast by a hun-
dred willing hands, many others sprang aboard, and soon
there arose the sound of bitter curses and execrations as
the nature of the cargo became known.

No grain was there, no butter nor cheese, nor any of
those commodities which the women were waiting to receive,
but some half-dozen cruelly-mutilated men and women—
yes, women also; for strange as it may seem, the bold Zee-
land wives often accompanied their husbands on this peril-
ous mission—some already dead, others living yet, but
slowly bleeding to death, mangled past the hope of recov-
ery, so that the truest kindness would have been to put
them out of their misery at once, as though they had been
dumb beasts.

Yes, it was this species of savage warfare that made
the Spanish name so justly execrated in the Netherlands.
Not content with capturing the cargoes of corn, not even
content with butchering the brave Zeelanders who had



86 THE COMING STRIFE.

striven to run these cargoes into the half-beleaguered city,
the Spanish soldiers had amused themselves and sought to
strike new terror into the hearts both of Zeelanders and
Antwerpers by this piece of brutal and gratuitous cruelty.
Every boat as it came ashore in the city out of the circling
mist bore its ghastly burden of dead and dying human
creatures, upon whom these ghastly and fearful injuries
had been inflicted.

No wonder the heart of the multitude was stirred; no
wonder the curses and execrations which arose from the
river-side were deep and loud, like the roaring of the
waves of the sea.

The women with one accord threw down their baskets,
and vied with each other in dressing the fearful gashes and
bleeding wounds, and holding the cup of water to the
parched lips of the dying sufferer—doing all, in fact, that
could be done to allay their pain and make easy the pas-
sage to the death they coveted. Scarce six out of the
whole number ever lived to recover of their hurts, and
deep and wide-spread was the indignation of the city as
this new instance of Spanish ferocity was brought home to
them.

“Better sink with our city into the waves of the sea
than own such hell-hounds as our masters,” was the word
that was freely passed from mouth to mouth. “Sure they
must see that anything is better than the tender mercies
of Spain. Sure they will do anything to keep the hated
foe at bay.”

So said the women in Hooch Straet, as they watched



THE COMING STRIFE. 87

over the one sufferer brought to their house, who lingered
on until evening and then died. It had been for them a
terrible day, bringing home to the minds of the girls the
possibility of horrors of which they had formerly whis-
pered without in any way realizing how fearful they
might become in reality. The face of Coosje, usually so
full of animation and light, was white to the lips with the
horror of what she had that day witnessed; whilst Roosje
could not keep herself from going again and again to fold
her own children in her arms with passionate embraces,
remembering stories told of the Antwerp Spanish Fury ten
years before, when little children had been dismembered
alive before their mothers’ eyes, or tossed on the sword’s
point out of lofty windows, or into the advancing flames
of the burning houses.

“Mother, ought we to let them stay in the city? Why
do we not all fly together whilst there is yet time?” she
asked once, in passionate tones, as she clasped her youngest
little girl in her arms. “Is it right to run such fearful
risks for these innocent little ones? We keep saying that
Antwerp will never fall—that the French will come—that
the Prince of Parma will never succeed with his blockade ;
but who can really forecast the future? Lionel does not
believe in the French alliance. The Prince of Orange
believed that the bridge might be built. Why do we all
stay here, perhaps to perish? Why not fly while we
may ?”

“Courage, my daughter,” said Madam Wilford, with a
smile, whilst the young wife’s own mother looked at her



88 THE COMING STRIFE.

with tender sympathy and encouragement. “There be
many things to think of ere a great household like ours
may be broken up. The jonkhers have their duties here.
It would be an ill thing to take them away in the moment
of peril; and I trow well that thy husband and my son
would not budge an inch from his duty within these walls.
If we go, we must leave our nearest and dearest behind us.
Would that please you, daughter? And again, whither
shall we go? True, we are some of us thinking of a return
to England, where there is for the present peace for all
who think as we do; but our plans are not yet so forward
that we could quit this city without great loss; and I for
one would sooner face a peril all together than see our
happy party split up, some going one way and some
‘another—wife parted from husband and child from parent.
Peril and privation shared together can be sweet, as we do
know. Far, far more terrible is the uncertainty of living
from day to day in doubt of the safety of those we love
best.”

“Yes, yes, I know it,” answered Roosje, with a little
sigh; “we have talked it all over a hundred times, and
have always resolved to stay and brave out all these perils
together. I could not bear to be parted from Lionel, and
I know well that he would not leave his post—belike it
would be wrong for him to dream of it at such a time of
danger. But my children, my little ones! When I think
of what I saw to-day—”

“Hush, daughter!” said Madam Wilford, half sternly,
half tenderly; “I would not have thee even think in such



THE COMING STRIFE. 89

a fashion. God is our refuge and strength, and He will
give us strength for what lies before us. The future is
His. With Him lies the fate of ourselves and of our
country. Let that be enough for us. Let us go on
from day to day, not forecasting the future, but bravely
facing the present. So alone can such times as these be
lived through; so alone must we try to live through
them.”

“Thou art right, my mother. We will have faith,”
answered Roogje, with a great effort after calmness; and
kissing her mother-in-law tenderly, she led her little ones
away to put them to bed, the fierce storm in her heart for
the time being quieted.

Yet every day as it passed brought its modicum of
excitement. Sometimes it was grain-boats really coming
in (for the traffic still continued, though the prices rose
with the peril), and bringing with them news of the world
without, and the progress of the Prince of Parma’s prepa-
rations for bridging the mighty river. Sometimes it was
news from Lillo, brought by Joris or Otto, who from their
great familiarity with the river and the city were not
unfrequently sent with despatches from Teligny to the
Burgomaster, telling of the preparations of the Spaniards
for a grand assault of the fortress, and of the courage and
resolution of the garrison to repel it. The Van der
Hammer brothers declared the place absolutely impreg-
nable, and said that Mondragon and Mansfield and Parma
himself might all coalesce together for its reduction with-
out making any impression. And that news was welcome



go THE COMING STRIFE.

enough to those in the city; for if Lillo were to fall their
case would be bad indeed.

Lionel, coming home from a walk about the city with a
friend, who had visited with him one of the few churches
where the Roman Catholic rites were permitted to be per-
formed (for his friend was a Romanist, like many in
Antwerp still), was aware of a great tumult going on in the
neighbourhood of his house, shouting, and erying, and
threatening voices all raised together ; and hurrying after
the scurrying and howling mob, he heard the words yelled
in every possible accent of rage and hatred,—

“Spanish spies! Spanish spies! Take them alive!
Serve them as they have served others !.”—“ Ay, ay ; they
shall taste what they have made others taste !”—‘“ Hack
them in pieces !”—“ Roast them alive!”—“Pull them in
pieces with horses!”—every savage suggestion being
greeted with a howl of approval from the maddened
crowd; and Lionel, suddenly drawing his sword and set-
ting his teeth hard, plunged through the throng, which
made way for him by instinct, and soon found himself
in the forefront of the commotion.



fort .
Hoboker £

VIRE-SHIP |}

way

BRABANT a oF | RO rie wan's envi, My
vy Bef a oh f [

3 or Victory



PLAN oF THE SIEGE OF ANTWERP,
(From an ad Dutch Print,



CHAPTER V.
IN PARMA’S CAMP.

’ ICTORY! victory! The doom of Antwerp is
V sealed !”

Two tall and stately youths, leaning over the battlements
of Fort St. Mary, and engrossed in conversation together,
turned quickly round at the sound of these triumphant
words, and found themselves face to face with one of their
own brothers-in-arms, who was waving his sword above his
head with a gesture of impetuous exultation.

“Nay, now, Diego; what meanest thou?” they asked,
almost in a breath. “Has the death of the Prince of
Orange brought the rebels to their senses? Methought it
had but hardened their hearts in their impious rebellion.”

“Ay, verily, so it has—dogs of heretics that they
are!” quoth the first speaker, a swarthy, muscular young
Spaniard of some five-and-twenty summers, with fierce,
flashing eyes, jet-black hair, and handsome, haughty
features of a pronounced aquiline type. “But the devil,
their master, is leading them a fine dance! They are
listening to his counsels with greedy ears, and shutting
their eyes fast to the net into which they are being drawn.



92 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

The holy saints and the Blessed Virgin are fighting for us.
They are like sheep led to the slaughter. Bah! how can
those low-bred burghers think for a moment to defy the
picked veterans of Spain, and led by such a general as
our Alexander? Madre de Dios! their mad folly is only
less than their wickedness.”

“Nay, but tell us what has chanced?” asked eagerly
the taller of the two companions who had been thus in-
terrupted in their talk. His face was more attractive
than that of the man he had addressed as Diego. It was
something of the same type, and was thoroughly Spanish
in colouring and general aspect; but the features were
more regular and more finely cut, and the reckless hardi-
hood—almost ferocity—of Diego’s countenance was not
reflected in that of his friend Rodrigo de Castro. He
looked every inch a soldier, but there was nothing brutal
in his aspect. It was easy to picture the one engaged in
scenes of outrage and carnage, loot and plunder; the other
one would rather picture in the battle-field alone, and
would not easily connect him with scenes of brutal re-
crimination.

Still less would the observer suspect his brother and
companion of the like fierce passions. Alphonso de Castro
had the face rather of the dreamer and thinker than of
the soldier, albeit the steadfast look of the eyes and the
firm set of the lips betokened a high courage and iron
resolution. Brought up, as were all noble Spanish youths,
to the profession of arms, and devoted, like all those
who served beneath him, to their great general, the Prince



IN PARMA’S CAMP. 93

of Parma, it had never occurred to Alphonso to be anything
but a soldier. At the same time, he had contrived to
retain much of his gentleness and refinement of mind in
his warlike profession; and even in the camp his spare
moments were often spent in poring over some small
volume carried in his pocket, or in metaphysical or theo-
logical discussion with some companion of a like thought-
ful turn. He had the same delicately-chiselled features as
his brother, but in colouring he was much fairer. His
eyes were a pencilled gray, that looked black in moments
of excitement, but that could be wonderfully soft and
expressive at other times, and were usually tranquil and
thoughtful in expression. His skin had none of the dark
swarthiness which was so common in the Spanish soldier,
exposed as he was to all the inclemencies of the weather,
but was wonderfully smooth and fair, slightly olive in tint,
but with a quick fluctuating colour which sometimes gave
rise amongst his companions to the nickname of the
“muchacha” (the girl). In figure he was slight, but tall
and wiry, very agile at all feats requiring quickness and
dexterity, and an excellent swordsman, though lacking in
the weight which gave the advantage in the field to some
of his companions. Diego de Escolano would have made
almost two of him; but for all that Alphonso was a very
excellent soldier, and had the gift of inspiring in the little
band of soldiers whom he habitually headed in action an
unbounded enthusiasm and devotion, which made them
ready for any service to which he might lead them.

Both brothers had their whole heart and soul in the



94 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

crusade (as it seemed to them) in which they were em-
barked on behalf of King and Church, and they eagerly
desired Diego to explain his words; for if Antwerp fell into
their hands once again, they fully believed, with the rest of
the world, that the whole country, including Holland and
Zeeland, would submit itself anew to the Spanish monarch.

“ Antwerp is as good as ours!” cried Diego once again,
raising his sword and flourishing it over his head. “ What
think ye of this, brothers in arms ?—the great Kowenstyn
Dike is ours !”

“ Pardiez! Sayest thou so?” cried Rodrigo, wheeling
round to look towards the great bulwark in question.
“The Kowenstyn ours—and without fighting, too! How
comes that, good Diego, and how knowest thou it?”

“T know it for that I was in attendance on the Prince
but two short hours ago, when the Lord of Kowenstyn
came to him, and offered for a price to place the whole of
the dike in his hands.”

“ Justo cielo! how the Saints fight for the righteous
cause!” cried Rodrigo eagerly. “Come now, good Diego;
tell us more. Wert thou present at the conference ?
Methought the grim Sieur of Kowenstyn was our deadly
foe. How has it come about that he has become our
friend all in a moment ?”

“That I can also explain in a few words,” replied the
Spaniard; “for, as you well know, our Prince has a won-
derful fashion of drawing out the confidence of all who
come to him. Seeing that this grim old lord was about
to protter friendship, our Alexander met him with every



IN PARMA’S CAMP. 95

courtesy, and at once granted him a private audience, only
some two or three of his gentlemen, of whom I was ‘one,
being admitted to the interview. When they commenced
to talk it was plain enough that the Prince had been
striving to open negotiations with the lord of the dike,
and that his overtures had not been without effect. But
the mischief for Antwerp was, as one might well guess,
done by theinselves ; for a month ago the Sieur of Kowen-
styn was on the side of the rebellious heretics.”

“ And what has passed to change him ?”

“Why, plainly the change in him has been wrought by
their own blind folly. And the death of the Prince of
Orange has finished the work their obstinate blindness
began. The great William had the sense to see that if
the dike were pierced there would be no siege of Antwerp;
and he sent urgent messages to the people to take this
step. The Sieur of Kowenstyn, who had received letters
himself from the Prince, went in person to the city to
urge upon the greasy burghers the step their Stadtholder
had proposed, but they would not listen either to the
one or the other. They thought they knew better than
either Prince or Lord, and it is plain they insulted the
grim old man who holds the key of the Kowenstyn, and
that he has been brooding over his wrongs ever since.
The news of the death of the one man in whom he trusted,
and the letters of our own general here, have done the rest.
Disgusted with the citizens of Antwerp, despairing of the
cause now that the head is gone, he has wisely resolved to
submit to his rightful sovereign. The Kowenstyn is ours,



96 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

Before many weeks have passed it will bristle with forts
from end to end. No cutting it through now, to bring the
sea to the walls of Antwerp, and destroy the labours of our
hands. The great dike is ours, and we can commence the
building of the bridge as soon as we please now; for our
work can no longer be rendered abortive by an act on the
part of the city. Their day has gone by now; our turn
is come !”

The eyes of the young men brightened. Their enthu-
siasm for their great general was unbounded. Alexander
Farnese, Prince of Parma, had won, as he deserved to win,
the enthusiastic love of his soldiers, and any undertaking
planned by him was always cheerfully and actively carried’
out by those beneath him. A valiant soldier, always in
the forefront of the battle, a man of learning and genius
and indomitable resolution such as could not fail to inspire
respect, thoughtful and even tender over his hard-worked
and ill-paid servants, he kept his soldiers together when
under another general they would have deserted by hun-
dreds and thousands. And in times when savage ferocity
was the order of the day, and excited neither reprobation
nor horror, he was studiously humane and gentle in his
dealings even with his foes, and never disgraced his laurels
by those scenes of atrocity which shed such a ghastly light
over the reign of his predecessor Alva. He had done more
in his short rule towards conciliating the Netherlands than
all his predecessors put together. Much of the fatal sub-
mission of opulent cities was traceable to the politic and
moderate spirit of Farnese. His name excited no shudder



IN PARMA’S CAMP. 97

in the breasts of the inhabitants, and his propositions were
always couched in conciliatory and even generous terms.
True, he never gave way one iota upon the point at issue.
Civil and religious liberty was never yielded by him; he
would have thought himself a traitor to his King and his
God had he dreamed of such concession. But he contrived
to make the reality of slavery wear such a gentle garb,
and he made such lenient-sounding terms for the rebellious
who would not submit—leaving them time to retire with
their goods from the submissive cities, instead of putting
them to the sword or throwing them into prison—that his
terms had been accepted again and again; and it was for
the future to show the fatal error into which the country
had fallen, that quietly submitted to the exile of its best
and wealthiest citizens, and the consequent deflection to
other and freer places of the trade which had made the
greatness and prosperity of the land.

Holland and Zeeland (if the death of their Prince did
not drive them to despair) might still be a hard nut to
crack, but upon the salvation or capture of Antwerp hung,
as it were, the fate of the whole of the lower Netherlands ;
and Parma was determined that the cause should not be
lost by any lack of zeal and exercise of ingenuity on
his part. His whole soul was in the task. His loyalty
to his King and to the cause of religion was bound up in
the struggle; his patriotism and his conscience were at
one; and those who followed him were infected by his
spirit of devotion. These ignorant traders, who were

setting themselves up to contemn the religion of the
(444) 7



Full Text
The Baldwin Library

University
RmB x2
Florida



Regmala Barnicott Log

Vith (tes Com pliiu er 3
of ni Author,
/ 804
emul 1 N

ACSA TES Ol

THE -WONDEREUL: SIEGE-OF
ANTWERP
M DLXAXXV



ALEXANDER: FARNESE
PRINCE: OF PARMA =

THOMAS: NELSON:-AND:SONS
Soo ff

A Tale of the Wonderful Siege of Antwerp
an the Year 1585

By

&. EVERETT-GREEN

Author of “In the Days of Chivalry,” ‘* The Church and the King,"
“The Lord of Dynevor,”

&e. oe

ff
9 od) 5
AS}

Di Nek LL SiO2N AND StONis:
London, Edinburgh, and New York

1894
Il.”

IIL.

Iv.

v.

VIL

VII.

VIII.

Xi.

XII.

XIII.

XIy.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

CONTENTS.



» A TURBULENT CITY,

A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD,
EVIL TIDINGS,

THE COMING STRIFE,

IN PARMA’S CAMP,

INTO THE CITY,
PRISONERS,

LIFE IN THE CITY,

THE DAWN OF LOVE,
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE,
BOIS-LE-DUC, wee
A DEAD MAN’S HAND,
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN,

A DARING SWIM,

A GENEROUS FOE, ese
BRIGHTER DAYS, bee
THE FIRE-SHIPS,

A TERRIBLE NIGHT,
vili CONTENTS.

XIX, LOVE IN WAR, tees wees wees cee 385
XX. ANTWERP AROUSED, _ .... wees vee wee 406
XXI. THE GREAT DIKE, ae es wee vee 426
XXII. AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET, te we coe 448
XXIII. THE DEATH OF HOPE, cee sees wee 467

XXIV. CONCLUSION, ree pees a tees 484
SHUT IN.





CHAPTER I.
A TURBULENT CITY.

7 UT the dike! drown the whole country! Was

C ever such madness heard of? Burgomaster or
no Burgomaster, we'll not stand by to see ourselves ruined.
Cut the dike, forsooth! What next will they say?”

“Cut the dike! And what does he think will become
of our twelve thousand fat oxen? And if all the beasts
perish, how is the city to be fed? Pugh! the Burgo-
master has left his senses behind him at Delft, but he
will not find that all the city has gone mad with him.
We others shall have somewhat to say before we are all
ruined; and the colleges will be all with us. The
Schepens may say what they will, but the Broad Council
will override them.”

“ Ay, verily; we will see that it does. We will beat
up the whole town. Every man with an ounce of sense
in his pate will be on our side. Hemel! I cannot think
10 A TURBULENT CITY.

what has come over the Burgomaster that he should dream
of such a measure, and carry it through the Board.”

The speakers were, for the most part, great brawny
fellows, wearing the distinctive dress of the butchers’
guild, their long, shining knives slung at their girdles.
Their broad Dutch faces were flushed with excitement and
indignation. They also spoke in angry tones, and seemed
to carry the crowd with them. There was a large crowd
gathered in the open space about the beautiful Cathedral
church of “Our Lady ”—the church that had suffered so
cruelly twenty years before from the wild fury of the
Iconoclasts. Some exciting piece of news had plainly
been brought into the city, and all Antwerp was moved at
it. In those days of bloodshed and warfare, when it was
known that that military genius Alexander Farnese, Prince
of Parma, was threatening Antwerp, and making prepara-
tions for a determined siege of that most important strong-
hold, it was like enough that news was greedily listened
to whenever it got about, and that there were continually
these gatherings at street-corners and in open places to
discuss the latest item of intelligence brought in. After
twenty years of dire struggle, and the innumerable vicis-
situdes of fortune which inclined sometimes towards the
tyrant of Spain, sitting spider-like in his cabinet hundreds
of leagues away, sometimes towards the noble champion
of religious liberty, William, Prince of Orange, who for
years had been the true head and right arm of the party
of freedom, it was natural, perhaps, that even the thought
ot a coming siege should not arouse quite the dread and
A TURBULENT CITY. II

sense of unity that it would have done a generation before.
At the first outbreak of a storm, men gather together and
stand shoulder to shoulder against a common foe; but
after long years of fighting, it often happens that minor
issues creep in and promote disunion and jealousy. It
had been so, alas! in the Netherlands during the past
years. The first warm and generous love for liberty and
religious freedom had in many places either died away
in dull despair or been exterminated by fire and sword.
Brabant and Flanders were all but lost already to the
cause of liberty ; and of that ring of five important cities
—Ghent, Dendermonde, Brussels, Mechlin, and Antwerp—
which the Prince of Parma had vowed to subdue, the first
two had already fallen, and it was well known that if
Antwerp likewise fell, the other two must fall with it, and
all the lower Netherlands return to their old obedience to
the tyrant of the Escorial.

Holland and Zeeland were holding out nobly, the spirit
of the great William living, as it were, within them; but
in the lower provinces Spanish gold and French guile were
doing their paralyzing work. Some great persons, some
important strongholds, had literally been bought back by
Philip of Spain ; whilst numerous others, leaning more and
more upon the belief in the French alliance, and the hope
that from France a prince and deliverer would arise for
them, looked on with an approach towards apathy at the
struggles of the moment, disposed rather to temporize and
to wait than to stand shoulder to shoulder in the fight
as they had stood long years before, when the yoke of
12 A TURBULENT CITY.

Spain had been in a fair way of being broken from off
their neck.

And now Antwerp was threatened. The Prince of
Parma had vowed himself to the task of its reduction, and
the Prince of Orange had equally vowed himself to save
it from the destroying hand of Spain. It was well known
that with Antwerp fell the whole of the lower Nether-
lands. The Spaniards recognized this fact as fully as the
people themselves.

“Tf we get Antwerp, you go to mass with us,” they
said, in words that had grown to be almost a proverb;
“and if you save Antwerp, we go to conventicle with
you.”

Antwerp was well aware of her own importance, and
not a little proud of it; but the city was in itself a tur- ~
bulent little republic, and of late years a republic which
had been fast lapsing into anarchy. It had its Burgo-
master, it is true; and at this time the Burgomaster was
none other than the talented and famous Marnix, Lord of
Sainte Aldegonde, orator, soldier, statesman, poet, and
scholar, who had accepted this post (far humbler than
many he had previously occupied) at the personal instance
of the Prince of Orange, who knew that the city needed
a great man at its head, and had persuaded his friend to
try to fill that office at this crisis in its history. But
though there was a Burgomaster, he had but one vote on
the Board of magistrates or Schepens,—and as it was a
Board governed by a majority, measures were continu-
ally passed against the wish of the Burgomaster. Then
A TURBULENT CITY. 13

there were innumerable other boards or colleges, as they
were called, of militia-colonels, ward-masters, deacons, and
so forth, to say nothing of the important city-guilds such
as that of the butchers; and all these hydra-heads were
represented at the weekly meeting of the Broad Council,
before which anybody could force any matter to be
brought. The confusion and wrangling here beggars all
description, and might well drive to distraction any Burgo-
master who desired to impose the wise will of the Prince
of Orange upon the turbulent city.

The name of the Prince, however, was the one name
which still acted as something of a talisman in Antwerp.
It was his name which had enabled the Burgomaster to
induce the Board of Schepens to decree that the Blaw-garen
should be cut and the great Kowenstyn Dike submerged.
But it was one thing for the Schepens to decree this wise
and politic step, and quite another for the city to ratify
that decision.

Every moment the crowd was growing larger in the
open space, and eager questions were being passed from
mouth to mouth. Those who did not fully understand
the bearing of the question were asking information of
those who did; and in the centre of one group stood a tall,
fine-looking man of some five-and-thirty summers, who
wore the dress of a militia-colonel, and who appeared to
have gathered about him some of the most orderly and
intelligent of the crowd.

“My friends,” he said, “if you will listen to me for a
few minutes I will tell you the meaning of this order, and
14 A TURBULENT CITY.

explain to you its wisdom. The very fact that the advice
‘comes from the great Prince himself should be enough for
the people of Antwerp.”

A murmur went through the crowd—it was not easy
to say whether of assent or of discontent; but at least the
sound of that name imposed silence upon the group in
the immediate neighbourhood of the speaker, and though
shouts of defiance and derision went up still from the
knots around the burly butchers, the colonel was able to
speak unchecked to his ring of listeners.

“My friends and fellow-citizens,” he said again, “it is
time for us to face the fact that a great peril is before us.
We stand in the forefront of this great fight for our re-
ligion and our liberty; and if Antwerp falls, the whole
cause for which hundreds of thousands of lives have been
laid down dies in this land, and the Inquisition, with its
racks and its fires and all its infernal machinery, will be
set up again. Say, my fellow-citizens, do you wish for
this ?”

A shout, a howl of execration was the reply, and the
ring closed more closely round the speaker. There were
plenty of Roman Catholics still in Antwerp, plenty who
revered and supported the “old faith,” as it was often
called, and who did not personally dread the fury of the
Inquisitors; but they did abominate the tyranny of the
institution almost as much as those who had embraced the
reformed doctrines, and if there were not unity of religious
belief within the walls of the city, there was unity in detes-
tation of Spanish tyranny and the power of the Inquisition.
A TURBULENT CITY. 15

“Good!” continued the speaker, having got the reply
he desired. “I see that in this matter we are well agreed.
Wherefore at all costs Antwerp must be saved, and it
behoves us most seriously to consider how best we may
save her. The great Prince knows as well as we can do
how great a thing the welfare of this city is to the cause
of freedom; and I am willing to believe that with his
great wisdom and judgment, and his experiences of twenty
years of warfare, he is better qualified to judge what
measures it is for us to take than we on the spot can
settle for ourselves. We have trusted him with many and
great matters before; can we not trust him also with
this ?”

There was another murmur which sounded like one of
assent; and a voice from the crowd asked,—

“ But why should the dike be pierced? why should the
whole country be made desolate? A day’s toil would
serve to pierce the dike, but it will be the work of a
generation to reclaim the land again when once it has
been submerged. Why are we to submit to such loss and
damage ?”

“Verily, because the loss of the city would be tenfold
greater ; whilst the Prince of Parma—the greatest general,
after our own Prince, that the world has ever seen—has
vowed himself to the task of its reduction, and it is for us
to thwart him, even at the cost of present loss, that the
cause of freedom may not be for ever lost to us and our
children.” .

“ But the reason—the reason ?” asked many voices; and
16 A TURBULENT CITY.

the colonel, taking his sheathed sword in his hand, pro-
ceeded rapidly to make a rude diagram upon the sandy
ground on which they were standing, the people pressing
round to see.

“Here, my friends,” he said, pointing, “is the city of
Antwerp within her walls, standing upon the great river
Scheldt, which flows between its great dikes to the sea,
Here, guarding its right bank, is the Blaw-garen Dike, and
at right angles to the Blaw-garen, and starting from it, is
the Kowenstyn. Here again, nearer to the city, between
her and the sea, has the Prince of Parma made his camp,
and what he threatens to do is this: to build a bridge
across the Scheldt, and thus cut off supplies, not only from
Antwerp, but from Brussels also, and starve us into a
surrender ; for, as you well know, we can get little by land
from provinces which have with craven fear returned to
their old allegiance to Spain, and it is to Holland and
Zeeland we must look for the relief and help we shall soon
begin to need.”

“ Bridge the Scheldt!” called out a voice from the crowd,
in accents of deep derision. “Verily we shall hear next
that the Prince of Parma has bridged the great gulf that
divides Dives and Lazarus!” And the laugh with which
the crowd greeted this sally showed that the general feeling
was one of derision at the proposed scheme.

“ My friends,” answered the spokesman, “I well under-
stand your feelings. We know the depth and swiftness of
our river, its great fall of tide every twelve hours, the huge

ice-floes which come down in winter, and the thought of
(444)
A TURBULENT CITY. 17

closing it by a bridge seems well-nigh a chimera. But
then there is this to think of, on the other side—our great
Prince does not so regard it. Had he thought the task to
be beyond the power of man, would he have counselled
our Burgomaster to order the piercing of the dikes? No,
most assuredly not. What he says is this:—Pierce your
dikes, submerge your pasture-land and outlying villages,
and the sea will roll up to the very walls of Antwerp, and
render a blockade impossible. The fleet from Zeeland will
scour these waters, routing the enemy and bringing corn
for the needs of the citizens. Antwerp will be for the
time an island, and will laugh to scorn the fear of famine
or siege. Once make this patriotic resolve to sustain
present loss of goods, and the Prince of Parma must retire
discomfited ; but think first of the cattle and second of the
cause, and the day may come when we shall bitterly re-
pent our folly, and find that repentance comes too late.
For we have a marvellously skilful foe against us, and if
we despise him at the outset, we are like to repent our
folly in dust and ashes in the days to come.”

The people listened in silence, half convinced, and yet
unable or unwilling to believe that their peril was as great
as this soldier would make out. To bridge the Scheldt in
such a way as to blockade the city seemed the wildest of
wild chimeras to the inhabitants of Antwerp, who knew
something of the character of their great river, and its
depth and volume of water. If the Prince did manage to
construct a bridge in the teeth of the opposition of the

united fleets of Zeeland and Antwerp, the first of the ice
(444) 2
18 A TURBULENT CITY.

coming down would sweep it away like a child’s toy.
Such was the opinion of the majority of those gathered
round the diagram in the sand, discussing the situation
and hazarding all manner of opinions. The speaker him-
self was now standing aside in thoughtful silence. A burly
butcher came up and looked at the drawing, and heard
what was passing from mouth to mouth in the crowd.

“Bridge the river, quotha! starve the people into
capitulation! And yet the first step to avoid starvation
is to drown twelve thousand fat oxen! A pretty method
that!”

“Could not the oxen be slain and the meat salted down
for use during the siege?” suggested one practical juffrouw;
but the butcher only sniffed scornfully.

“And why eat salted meat when fresh may be had day
by day ?—just for the bogey terror of a few dreamers!
Let this wonderful Prince of Parma build his bridge if he
can! How does he think he will do it, with all Antwerp
looking on on one side and Holland and Zeeland on the
other? Only a fool or a traitor would believe such a
thing! Listen not to yon foreigner, good folks—Antwerp
has had something too much of foreign treachery already—
listen to your own good citizens, who have no aim but the
public weal !”

And the burly Dutchman cast a defiant look upon the
officer, who raised his head at the challenge to his loyalty,
and said,—

“Yes, my friends, I am an Englishman by birth. I
have never striven to pass as any other. But I came into
A TURBULENT CITY. 19

this city as a child, and here have I dwelt as one of its
citizens. My own country is unknown to me. My life
has been bound up in Antwerp. My wife is one of your
daughters, and for the cause of Antwerp and liberty I
would gladly lay down my life. I have shed my blood in
the strife before, and I am ready to do so again. Treachery
and enough has there been within the walls of Antwerp—
foreign treachery, and treachery at home. But which of
you can lay that charge against me? If he do but prove
his words, smite off my head as I stand here! I will not
resist the stroke.”

There was a murmur in the crowd, and several men
cried shame upon the butcher.

“The Heer soldier speaks well. He has ever been true
to the cause of Antwerp. He is no traitor.”

“Then let him hold his peace, and no more talk of
cutting the dikes!” growled the butcher sulkily; “for I
hold that all who strive for such a thing are traitors to
the commonwealth.”

“Then the Prince is such a traitor,’ said the officer, in
a tone of fine scorn; “for it is the special charge laid by
him upon our Burgomaster, who has had personal con-
verse with him at Delft, that the dikes be pierced, and
Antwerp saved from the miseries of another siege, and
from the peril with which she is menaced.” And so saying,
the colonel turned on his heel and walked rapidly away,
whilst the tumult in the crowd rose again as before, all
sorts of arguments being bandied about, but the prevailing
feeling throughout being against the proposed measure.
20 A TURBULENT CITY.

For many days the city was in a ferment, and from
house to house went emissaries from various boards and
colleges urging the people to refuse to submit to the drastic
measures proposed to them. The citizens had immense
power in Antwerp, for the main bulk of the troops con-
sisted of the burgher militia, which was very well trained
and always ready to fight; but it lacked the necessary
element of submission, and was a turbulent and undocile
body when not under arms, and was, of course, governed
almost entirely by the will of the citizens from whom it
was drawn. There was a regiment of English in the place
under Colonel Morgan; but there had been mutiny in the
regiment, and two of the captains had been hanged.
Antwerp was in a strangely distracted state, and was rent
by faction within her walls—a thing which William of
Orange knew and grieved over, and which added tenfold
to his fears for the ultimate result of the struggle he knew
to be impending. Had he lived to give his weight and
authority to the counsels of prudence, perchance many of
the gigantic blunders which characterized this struggle
might have been averted.

The days flew by, and nothing was talked of in the city
but the proposed destruction of the great Blaw-garen Dike,
and the strenuous resistance to be made at the next Broad
Council against the step. The butchers were the most
rancorously opposed to it, but the bulk of the citizens
shared in their dislike to the submerging of the surround-
ing territory, and stormy scenes were daily enacted in the
streets. The Burgomaster was not unfrequently hooted as
A TURBULENT CITY. 2I

he rode abroad, and lampoons were posted up on the
churches and other public places ridiculing the plan and
its projectors, and asking what was to become of the
miserable inhabitants of the villages to be submerged, and
whether Antwerp would be saddled with the maintenance
of all these homeless creatures in addition to all she had to
do for her own people.

Of course there are always two sides to every question,
and the step proposed was undoubtedly a serious one.
Much of the reclaimed country of the Netherlands was
already again under water. Again and again for military
and strategical purposes dikes had been ruptured and
whole tracts of country submerged. To add another im-
mense area of water to what had already been given back
to the hungry sea might well arouse anxious fears, and
numbers of the citizens declared that nothing in that way
ought to be done, at least until Parma’s bridge had become *
something other than a figment of his imagination.

“Time enough when the bridge is built,” was what the '
greater part of the citizens were saying, keeping an air of
judicious neutrality. They did not abuse the scheme like
the butchers, nor advocate it like the small minority who
trusted in the sagacity of the Prince. But they took up
the ground that there was plenty of time to see how things
turned, and that it would be worse than folly to desolate
their country unless the need should become much sorer
than it was at present.

This theory sounded so very plausible that it carried
away the bulk of the inhabitants, and it was pretty well
22 A TURBULENT CITY.

understood even before the Broad Council met that the
citizens would absolutely refuse to permit the undertaking,
and that they would carry the day against the Burgomaster
and his few friends and supporters. Deputations without
number had waited on Sainte Aldegonde already, and it
was confidently known throughout the city that he him-
self had been shaken by the arguments brought to bear
upon him.

Shortly before sunset, on a bright evening at the close
of this memorable June, the same colonel of militia who
had addressed the crowd a few days previously was slowly
and thoughtfully wending his way in the direction of
Hooch Straet from the great public assembly, which had
met, as usual, for the discussion of municipal affairs.

Lionel Wilford had left early. His voice was of no use
amongst the tumultuous tongues all wagging together at
the Broad Council. He had waited to see the issue of the
day, though to him it had been from the first a foregone
conclusion; and when he saw that nothing could shake the
people’s resolve to let the dikes remain as they were, he left
the council-room and made his way slowly home, wondering
within himself what would be the outcome of all this, and
whether his townsfolk would not live bitterly to regret
the obstinacy of the present moment, when it might be too
late to take the step urged upon them now.

Lionel walked onwards till he found himself in the wide
street in which his home lay, and looked up with some
natural affection at the great timbered house, with its
shining windows and quaint gables and chimneys, in
A TURBULENT CITY. 23

which he and his kindred dwelt in almost patriarchal
fashion.

Once this building, with its carved beams, queer little
balconies, and its outer stairway to the first-floor rooms,
had been two houses—the one occupied by Lionel’s father
‘and mother, Thomas and Joan Wilford; the other, by the
family of Hermann and Barbara Van der Hammer, mer-
chant partners of the Wilfords, whom in the days of the
Marian persecutions the Wilfords had come across the
water to join. A close friendship and intimacy had sprung
up between the two families, and when, some ten years
since, Lionel had married Roosje, the eldest daughter of
the Van der Hammer household, the two houses had been
practically thrown into one, and the two families grew up
together almost as one, each speaking equally the language
of the other, and sharing together good fortune and ill, as
those must needs do who live in such stirring times, and
have been through so many vicissitudes of fortune together.

These had been terrible years for the Netherlands and
for Antwerp—these past twenty years of desperate warfare
with the richest and most powerful sovereign of the world.
Scarce could the Wilfords have told why they had not long
ago returned to their native shores, to escape the horrors
of which they were sometimes daily the witnesses. They
had barely escaped with life during the “Spanish Fury”
in Alva’s day, and looked back yet with a shudder to that
fearful time, when it seemed as though the very gates of
hell had been opened upon them.

And yet here they were still, living in their peaceful
24 A TURBULENT CITY.

home in Hooch Straet, and at the present time enjoying
the fruit of their industry and successful trading. It is a
strange thing how the Provinces thrived and grew rich in
the midst of the terrible struggle for existence which they
waged so long against their tyrant, and how entirely and
completely ruin followed any submission to the Spanish
crown. Antwerp, in spite of all it had gone through, was
rich and prosperous at this time, and none amongst her
merchant princes were more highly esteemed for upright-
ness and just dealing than those of the house of Wilford
and Van der Hammer.

Lionel had taken his share in the business dealings of
the house ; but he had combined this with good service in
the burgher militia, as indeed almost all able-bodied men
strove to do in those days. Lionel had thought of retiring
from his military duties, to relieve his father of some of
his work, when this new peril of siege threatened the city.
This hardly being the time to unbuckle his sword, he had
volunteered to remain for another year at least in the serv-
ice, and to organize a small new band of young men from
the burgher classes, to act as a volunteer reserve for the
militia in this time of coming peril. These youths would
remain in their own homes, as did many of the burgher
contingent, coming forth as required for drill or for fight-
ing. And the band thus got together promised to be one
of the best the city had yet seen. Lionel was personally
much respected and liked, and his own brothers and
brothers-in-law formed an admirable nucleus for the con-
tingent.
A TURBULENT CITY. 25

Up the outer staircase trod Lionel with his steady step,
and a light form sprang out upon the balcony to meet him.

“Tt is he!” eried a clear young voice. “Brother, come
in and tell us all. Father is wishing so much to hear, and
so is the vader too.”

It was the way in that house to call the elders father
and mother indiscriminately, whether they were Wilfords
or Van der Hammers, the English term being given to the
former, and the Dutch to the latter, by all the young folks
alike. It was his own sister Maud who had sprung out to
welcome him—the only girl on the English side of the
house. She was a sweet-faced maiden of twenty summers,
with blue eyes, and abundant hair of a rich golden-brown
colour. Lionel felt an almost fatherly affection for the
sister so much younger than himself. Indeed, as the three
children who had been born after him had died in infancy,
a great gap of ten years divided him from his next
brother, Harold, and he felt almost as though he belonged
to the older generation, and was accorded by all a certain
measure of respect, as though the rest of the double family
recognized this distinction. As a married man, too, he had
some claim to authority, and his father had long ago re-
signed the reins of domestic government into his hands
and those of his wife.

“Yes, come and tell us the result of the Broad Coun-
cil,” said the voice of the elder Wilford from within the
room; and Lionel stepped across the threshold of the door-
window, to find himself in the midst of a regular family
gathering.
26 A TURBULENT CITY.

This pleasant room, with its five large windows facing
the street (the middle one of which was the door which
opened upon the wooden balcony), was the general living
and feeding room of the large family party. It ran through
both houses, and was quite forty feet long and twenty
wide. There was a great stove at either end, neither of
which was lighted this warm June day; and a long table
occupied the half of the apartment, with two arm-chairs at
either end, and benches down the sides.

The floor of the room was boarded, and the boards liter-
ally shone like mirrors, and those who trod upon them
went carefully by long practice, as they were almost as
slippery as ice. The windows, too, shone with the same
wonderful cleanliness, and not a speck of dust was to be
seen in the whole place. One wall was almost entirely
composed of quaint, carved shelves, on which the earthen-
ware and china vessels used at table were arranged with
the greatest care. The bottom part of this great cabinet
(if it could so be called) consisted of cupboards, in which
the wooden trenchers and knives were stored, and these
were as white and spotless as constant scrubbing could
make them. All the furniture shone with the polishing of
willing hands, and the whole air of the place was one of
spotless cleanliness and brightness. One or two pictures
on the wall, and a few small squares of carpet (laid down
like islands in the midst of a shining sea), gave a look
of simple comfort to the room, which was otherwise
rather severely plain in its fittings; but the home-like
aspect made amends for much, and the family party as-
A TURBULENT CITY. 24

sembled there could not fail to attract admiration and
interest.

Lionel’s father was a very fine-looking old man of some
sixty summers, with curling white hair, and a face that
seemed like an elder edition of that of his son. He sat
near to the unlighted stove, in a place that was plainly
always his own, with his feet upon one of the carpets,
and his hands grasping the carved arms of his big chair.
Beside him was a dainty-looking old dame, with bright
blue eyes and a picturesque cap that was not like the
ones most often seen in Antwerp. She had clung to
the recollection of the coif her mother used to wear in
England, and always made her own on the same pattern.

Opposite to this pair of old folks sat another couple, in
another brace of high-backed chairs. But Heer Van der
Hammer was very different in appearance from his old
friend. He was some five years younger, and would not
have had any appearance of old age had it not been for
the sufferings he had been through during the course of .
the past years. Once he had been in prison, twice he had
been badly wounded, and from the effects of the last
wound he had never entirely recovered. It had so far
crippled him that he was forced to remain for the greater
part of his time a prisoner in his chair; and though he
looked stout and hale yet, he was not fit for active em-
ployment, and his main work lay in the examination of
his books, and in the correspondence needed with foreign
lands; for he could wield a pen as well as a sword, and
that little table at his right hand was almost always heaped
28 A TURBULENT CITY.

with books and papers. He was big and burly in figure,
and had a shrewd eye and a loud voice. Mr. Wilford was
the more refined and handsome of the pair, but there was
considerable power in the face of Van der Hammer.

His wife was of the fine Dutch type—dark-eyed, sweet-
faced, and with a pretty, shrinking manner. She seldom
lifted up her voice in the assembled family circle; yet she
was universally beloved, and was the grandmother towards
whom the children gravitated almost as a matter of
course. .

Dame Wilford loved the little ones well, but she was
far more strict with them than was the juffrouw Van der
Hammer.

With the exception of Maud, the pretty girl who had
welcomed Lionel back, all the Wilfords were sons; Harold
and Malcolm following their brother in his soldier-like
calling, and Philip, the youngest, being as eager as the
rest, though only lately considered man enough to take
part in military tactics.

On the Dutch side of the double family there had been
more equal division of sexes. Roosje, the eldest of the
family, had been a happy wife and mother for many
years now; but Otto and Joris, who came next to her,
had shown no disposition towards marriage, and _pre-
ferred to lead the lives of burgher-citizens, dividing their
time between military training and their father’s merchant
offices on the Hoy Kay, as the bulk of the youth of the
town did in those stirring days, They were strong-built
young fellows, of twenty-five and twenty-four summers
A TURBULENT CITY. 29

respectively, and were always together, and the best of
comrades and friends.

Gertrude, a tranquil maiden of two-and-twenty, came
next, and it was confidently expected that she and Harold
would be married as soon as the country was in a more
settled state. The attachment had grown up from child-
hood, and nothing had disturbed its even course. Maurice,
a beautiful lad of twenty, and Coosje, a wilful and charm-
ing child of eighteen, concluded the quiver of the Van der
Hammer parents. And now, having introduced its various
members, I leave the personages in the household to speak
for themselves and develop in their own way.
CHAPTER II.

A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

& ELL, my son, what news dost thou bring?

V V How goes the decision at the Broad Council ?”

“Dead against the counsel of the Prince,’ answered
Lionel, as he uncovered and made a reverence to his
parents (as was his invariable custom on entering the
house), and unbuckled his sword, which he handed to his
young brother Philip. “I had little hope from the first,
after I heard the manner in which our Burgomaster re-
ceived the deputations of the butchers. Bah! they would
sell the whole city of Antwerp for the sake of a few
hundred oxen !”

“Blind fools! blind fools!” spoke the elder Van der
Hammer, with a solemn shake of the head. “Heaven
send we do not bitterly repent our folly! What said the
Burgomaster at the Council? He was eloquent enow at
the Board of Schepens but a week ago, and so moved
them that they voted as one man (a thing sufficiently
strange) for the destruction of the dike. Where was his
eloquence to-day ?”

Lionel shook his head with grave disapprobation.
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 31

“ Methinks our brilliant and most patriotic Burgomaster
is something too fine a tool for the use to which he is now
put. We want a sledge-hammer to dash opposition in
pieces, and carry all before it with its own force and
weight. The Lord of Sainte Aldegonde is as a finely-
tempered weapon, which in its right place can achieve
wonders, but which is like to be shivered to fragments
if used for work to which it is not made. To put the
matter in plain words, our Burgomaster sees too clearly
both sides of the question; he puts himself too readily
into the position of those who oppose him, and sees the
matter with their eyes. This may be the gift of a great
genius, but it may be a fatal gift to a ruler in times
of peril such as encompass us now. When the townsfolk
represent to him that it would be folly to destroy all
the meat for the city just at the time when famine be
threatening, he sees clearly that they have there a point
in their favour; and when others get up and say that it
will be time enow to pierce the dike when the Prince of
Parma has built his bridge, then again he wavers and
inclines to see that point too.”

“And is there not reason in that, son Lionel?” asked
the mother, who was anxiously listening to her son’s
report; for all Antwerp was keenly interested in the
result of to-day’s council. “Why should we not wait,
before devastating the country, until the need thereof be
more pressing than at this moment ?”

“ Because, my mother, we have a wary and sleepless foe
to deal with, and we know not how long we may hold
32 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

the command of these two dikes—the Blaw-garen and
Kowenstyn. ‘The Prince of Parma is scattering his forts
up and down the land. He swoops down like an eagle on
some unprotected or but feebly-protected spot—if possible,
upon some dike—and lo! in a few days, sometimes in a
single night, a fortress springs up as if by magic, with
the red-and-yellow flag of Spain floating over it. The
Sieur of Kowenstyn was at the Council this day, and
urged upon our Burgomaster the need of piercing the
dike, and letting the waters of the Scheldt roll to the
very walls of Antwerp, mingled with the salt sea waves
of the ocean beyond. He urged upon us that the time
was ours now, but that no man might know how long
we might hold the dike, with the veteran Spaniard
Mondragon and his iron followers in such close proximity.
Methought he made a wondrous telling oration, and I
had hoped his counsel would have carried the day; but
alas—”

“Oh, what?” cried young Maurice, with sparkling eyes,
and cheeks that were flushed with excitement. “Brother,
who did make answer to him? And what did they say
to such an appeal ?”

“ Marry, they gave such an answer that I tingled with
shame for mine own class and calling. Three of our
colonels of militia rose one after the other, and in language
that was little short of insulting proclaimed that it would
be useless for the Sieur of Kowenstyn or for the Burgo-
master himself to think of ordering the piercing of the
dike, for that they and their bands would stop the work
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 33

by force if it were begun, and that none but cowards
would think of ruining their land for a bogey terror like
that of Parma’s bridge !”

“Those were ill words for Antwerp’s soldiers to speak
in the open council!” said Van der Hammer, with slow
deliberation. “It is the duty of the soldier to obey his
officer, and for the officer to obey the lawful authority
of those who bear rule over us. If this be the spirit
of our city, God help us! I fear her doom is already
signed !”

“It was in part the jealous ill-will of the citizens
towards the Lord of Kowenstyn. Thou knowest, my
father, how many of our burgher class delight in a gibe at
those born to rank and affluence. A sneer at his courage
was not to be foregone; and he knew it right well, and
answered by marching from the council-chamber in lofty
dudgeon, his sword clanking as he moved, and his eyes in
their deep sockets flashing fire. He turned at the door to
make his bow to our Burgomaster, and methought there
was something sinister and fearsome in his aspect. There
was derision in the deep bow he made to us; and it
seemed when he had vanished from the room as though
some momentary uneasiness fell upon the whole assembly.”

“And didst thou raise thy voice, son Lionel?” asked
his father. “I trow this be no time to keep silence when
there be words of sound wisdom to speak.”

“T did put in my word there,” answered Lionel. “I rose
to my feet in the silence which followed the clang of the

door, and I addressed our Burgomaster in mine own name
(444) 3
34 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

and that of my band of volunteers, saying that not only
did I not endorse the words of the colonels who had
spoken before me, but that I here tendered him our
loyal service for the work of the destruction of the dike,
if he still desired that work undertaken; and I would
have gone on to urge that the counsel of the Sieur of
Kowenstyn should be well weighed and considered, when
I was hissed down by a multitude of angry voices, all
calling me foreigner, traitor, and English spy—as is the
way of those who know themselves in the wrong, and will
not have the right way set before them.”

“Ay, verily, it is ever so in this unhappy city,” said
Van der Hammer, in his slow, ponderous way. “Methinks
they would sooner hand it over to the Prince of Parma
than learn to agree amongst themselves. Heaven send
we do not have cause bitterly to repent our insensate
folly! And how spoke the Burgomaster then ?”

“He knew not what to say. He reminded us that the
counsel he had given at the Board of Schepens was the
counsel of the great Prince of Orange, whose name is still
held in reverence, even here in Antwerp. That reminder
told for a moment, but selfish fears soon drove it out
again; and when the voting came, there were scarce a
third to follow the wishes of our great William. The
only hope for the city in this matter is for him to come in
person to urge it. Were he in our midst, methinks the
thing could yet be carried; without that personal presence
we shall walk on blindly till we find ourselves caught in
our own net.”
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 35

“But, brother,” said Gertrude, with a timid appeal,
“surely before the Prince of Parma can even begin his
bridge, the French will have come to our aid! Methought
the King of France was to have been made the king of
these lands ere now. When we have France to help us
in our struggle, surely we need not fear!”

“ When we have it,” answered Lionel, with something
_of bitter emphasis in his tone, “then it will be time to
talk of relaxing our efforts. Ach! it sickens me to hear
this perpetual talk of France, France, France! Did we
not: have enough of France, I say, with that traitor of
Anjou? Has Antwerp already forgot the French Fury,
that she is holding out her arms again to France, and
seeking protection beneath her sceptre? The time will
come when she will bitterly repent her folly and credulity,
and will curse the apathy with which she has let the
precious time go by, thinking always that help and
succour are coming to her from France! And when
her eyes are opened at the last, she will find, I greatly
fear me, that they are opened too late.”

“O brother, art thou not a prophet of evil?” asked
Maud, with some natural shrinking in her eyes. “All
the world speaks of the French alliance and what will
be done for us then.”

“ Ay, they speak of it, and whilst they speak they let
time pass, and dally with danger; but Parma does not
dally and sleep, nor would the great Prince of Orange
countenance such folly. But to trust in France, to my
thinking, is like, in days of old, putting faith in Egypt.
36 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

It is like a reed which, if a man lean upon it, it will
pierce his hand. Yon dressed-up doll upon the French
throne, whose favourite pastime is to put on the garb of a
woman and paint his face and adorn himself like a har-
lot, is he the man to whom these Provinces shall turn
for help in the hour of dire necessity? And behind the
throne of that painted fop stands that woman Jezebel,
at whose doors lies the tragedy of St. Bartholomew.
Is she one to help on the cause of religious freedom ?
And the Balafré—the dark Duke of Guise, the idol of
the people—is he to be trusted to fight in the cause to
which we are bound ?”

“But there is Henry of Navarre,” put in Maurice
eagerly; “and if the King of France dies childless, as seems
like, all men say he will be the next king; and he—”

“Well?” questioned Lionel briefly. “And what is he?”

Maurice did not reply, but looked to his father, who
said,—

“Henry of Navarre is at least a man and a soldier, and
they say of him that his heart is in the cause of the
reformed faith. More than that I know not myself; but
I do say this, that since the Prince of Orange hath ever
been the warm friend of the French alliance, I cannot see
why we humbler folk need ery scorn of it. Surely one
who dwells in high places as he does can better see
and judge than humble burgher-citizens.”

Lionel slowly seated himself in his accustomed chair,
and rested his chin upon his hand. His face was grave
and thoughtful
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 37

“JT know that well,” he answered. “The Prince 7s the
advocate of that alliance, and he has ever been our best
counsellor and guide in these troubled times; and yet
mine own heart misgives me. I cannot but wish it were
to England’s Queen rather than to the King of France
that we were looking now.” .

“What—to little England! and with the next in
succession the bitter foe of the reformed faith—the
captive Mary Stuart, whom half the nation have sworn to
rescue and make Queen!” exclaimed Van der Hammer,
who shared the prevailing and not unnatural opinion of
his country that England would be a very helpless ally
for the Netherlands in their present crisis. “Nay, son
Lionel, I can scarce go with thee there, albeit I have
ever thought well of England and the English, as I
have good cause to do;” and the Dutchman and English-
man exchanged bows with each other, whilst Lionel an-
swered thoughtfully,—

“Tt may be but fantasy on my part, and yet I have ever
longed to see us banded with England in this struggle.
Methinks that she will have to be one day our ally,
and make common cause against a common foe. I hear
it whispered abroad, by those who know the secrets of the
Spanish court, that when that tyrant has crushed these
Provinces beneath his iron heel, he will next descend upon
the shores of England, and bring that land again beneath
the sway of Rome. Wherefore I would fain see our two
countries standing shoulder to shoulder in the fight against
the tyrant of Spain. But with these long-drawn negotia-
38 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

tions with France I have neither patience nor sympathy.
We have seen something too much of French treachery
and double-dealing of late. England’s Queen may be long
in making up her mind to enter upon a quarrel against a
foe so powerful as Philip of Spain, but at least she will
not betray a trust once undertaken by herself and her
people.”

“TI myself think with thee, my son,” said the elder
Wilford thoughtfully. “The Princess Elizabeth was but a
girl when I left the country, and her jealous sister kept
her in what was little other than imprisonment; yet even
so it was said of her that she had inherited a wonderful
measure of the spirit of her sire; and well do I remember
what England was under the rule of the great Henry. If
she be her father’s daughter, she be more of a man than
the weakling who wields the sceptre of France. I would
fain believe that England would stand forth the champion
of this down-trodden land; but so long as our rulers look
first to France, we cannot hope that the royal Elizabeth
will be eager to befriend us.”

“Men say she regards us with friendly eyes,” said Lionel,
“but covets not the task of standing betwixt us and Spain.
She would sooner that we received aid from France. But
the presence of Colonel Morgan and his soldiers within the
walls of our citadel here shows plainly that England is
with us in this struggle.”

But the discussion of the greater questions of the day
did not hold the younger members of the family as breath-
lessly attentive as the recital of what was actually going
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 39

on within the city walls. The families of Wilford and
Van der Hammer were better instructed in the politics of
the day than many burgher households, owing perhaps to
their facilities for obtaining news through their trading
vessels, and to the fact that they represented two nation-
alities in their own household; but even so, it was far
more interesting to the younger members of the family to
hear of local rather than of national affairs; and although
they were too well trained to interrupt their elders, they
listened with eager pleasure to the sound of ringing foot-
steps upon the polished stairs which led upwards from
below. These footsteps were accompanied by sounds of
martial import—the clash of a sword striking against the
edge of the stair, and the ring of mailed gloves thrown
down upon the table without.

“Tt is the jonkhers returned from their drill,” remarked
Wilford, with his eyes upon the door; and Coosje sprang
forward and opened it.

Together entered four stalwart youths accoutred in the
military fashion of the day—Otto and Joris, looking like
twin brethren, so exactly were they alike in figure and
face, leading the way, Harold and Maleolm bringing up the
rear. The Van der Hammer brothers were more strongly -
built, and had greater depth of chest and strength of limb,
than their English comrades ; but Harold was the tallest of
the four, and was a very handsome fellow, giving promise
of being very like his brother Lionel as he grew and
matured ; whilst Malcolm was slight and of medium height,
though as sinewy and muscular as a race-horse. He had
40 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

fair hair and gray eyes, and a face of quick and keen
intelligence. His movements were singularly rapid, and
he was noted already in his troop as being the swiftest
runner, the best swimmer, and the most agile climber
amongst them. In the amphibious and strategic warfare
of the Middle Ages, especially in such countries as Holland
and Belgium, these points were of no small advantage,
and Malcolm had several times distinguished himself above
men of stronger mould. He was when at home the life of
the house, having always some amusing story to tell or
some joke to crack with those about him. He was the
light of his mother’s eyes, and never went forth or came in
without the exchange of some caress or fond word—albeit
that kind of affectionate intimacy between parents and
children was something unusual in those days.

He crossed the room now with his light, springing step,
and bent his knee before his mother’s chair. She laid her
hand softly on his fair head as she said with a smile-——

“So thou hast returned safe and sound, my son ?”

“ Yes, verily; but none so glad of heart for the news
abroad. I had hoped to hear that on the morrow we
should be all turned out to mount guard over the sappers
and miners, who should be making breaches in the Blaw-
garen and Kowenstyn dikes. But the fools are ringing
the bells, forsooth, because there is to be nothing done, and
because the beasts may fatten and batten in peace! In
peace, quotha! If we do not look well to it, men and
beasts will alike perish by thousands on those fertile plains
where the salt waters ought to be rolling. Methought our
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 41

Burgomaster would have been a match for those fat, greasy
butchers !”

Coosje uttered a soft laugh at this description of her
townsmen, whilst the three little children of Lionel and
Roosje, who had come in at the sound of the soldiers’
return, and were gathering round the Van der Hammer
grand-parents as usual, looked curiously at their tall uncles
to ask,—

“Are they going to make our town into an island ?
Mother said perhaps we should soon see the great waves
rolling all round it. We should like that. Are they going
to make the sea come to us?”

“JT fear me not, my children,” answered the grandfather,
“T fear me not. A wise head has counselled; but there
be other heads and blunter wits at work, and I fear me the
voice of the many foolish wili prevail over that of the few
wise. Were our city to be turned for the nonce into a
great island, whither the fleets of the brave Zeeclanders
could come and go at will, and where our ships, in con-
junction with theirs, could muster together for one great
battle with the Spanish Prince at Kalloo, I trow he and
his picked soldiers would soon find they must run for their
very lives before us, and we should drive them back
whence they came, and prove to them that Antwerp is too
hard a nut for them to crack. If the Prince of Orange
would come himself to Antwerp, and meet the citizens
face to face, methinks he might even now persuade them.
But none other than he would be equal to the task.”

“Vader,” said Maurice, suddenly rousing himself from a
42 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

deep reverie into which he had fallen, “I had a dream
yesternight; it has weighed upon me all this past day.
Heaven send it come not to pass!”

All in the room turned to look anxiously at Maurice.
The dreamy-eyed lad with the thin, sensitive face, the quick
colour that came and went in his cheeks, and the brow
that spoke of imagination and enthusiastic devotion, had
possessed from childhood a strange and “uncanny” gift.
He would from time to time be visited with a dream-like
trance, in which certain things passed before his sleeping
senses ; and these dreams had invariably been followed by
disaster to the person whom he had seen whilst under the
spell of that strange sleep. During these past years of
stress and peril and warfare, many dear friends and near
kinsmen had been snatched away by the hand of death,
although the double household itself had been marvellously
preserved from loss of its members; and many times before
some misfortune had happened to one that they knew and
loved, Maurice had told his mother or some member of the
family of a strange dream, in which he had seen that same
person move and play a part, but always with a black halo
about his head. The boy had grown to dread his own
dreams, and when visited by one would feel depressed and
ill at ease. It had been some time now since he had been
visited by one, and he had hoped the spell was broken;
but it seemed that this was not so, and all in the room
turned to look at him, the women clasping their hands
and murmuring words of prayer that their own family
circle might not be broken up.
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 43

“My son,” said Van der Hammer slowly, “if thou hast
said so much thou hadst best tell us more. It may be
that these visions are granted to thee to serve as a warning
to those thou lovest. When thou speakest of a dream,
thou dost mean one of those strange visions of thine which
differ from an ordinary dream ?”

“Ay, as light from darkness. Father, I vowed I would
keep it to myself and say naught to disturb the peace of
the house, for no face of any friend or kinsman came
before me. I seemed to see into some great room where
men of rank and noble birth were met together for discus-
sion. JI saw amongst the assembly the face of our Burgo-
master, the Lord of Sainte Aldegonde. He was sitting
near to a man of noble presence and eagle eye, and I knew
that this man was none other than our great Prince of
Orange; and I bent my gaze upon him closer and closer,
striving to catch the words he spoke,—for his lips moved,
and I knew that he was speaking. And even as I watched
I saw the black halo form itself about his head, and I gave
such a cry that I awoke out of sleep, for it was as though
I had seen the death-angel drive his sword into his heart.”

There was an inarticulate murmur in the room. Several
of the women turned pale, and Maud sprang to her feet,
white and trembling.

“Not the Prince—not our great Prince! Ach, Maurice,
say that it was not he! If he were to be taken from us
the cause of liberty would be lost for ever.”

It was strange, perhaps, what consternation was pro-
duced in that room by the recital of this lad’s dream; but
44 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

so if was—even the children cowering together at their
grandam’s knee and looking with frightened eyes into
her face.

“T would I could say it were not he,” answered Maurice,
in a low tone; “but I know that face too well to be
mistaken. And the dream was repeated thrice, and each
time the black shadow about the head was deeper and
denser. I would not let myself sleep again, but rose before
the dawn to wander forth through the sleeping city and
strive to forget the horror of it. Father, where is the
Prince now? ‘There is little fighting of import going on.
Can he be in any grievous peril ?”

“The Prince is at his house at Delft,” answered Van der
Hammer. “His little son has just been christened there;
and our Burgomaster was present, as you know, at that
ceremony, and has returned thence with this urgent counsel
from the Prince anent this matter of the dike. Methinks
scarce ever in his stormy career has the Prince been more
safe than at this time.”

“And I may think of my dream as but an idle fantasy,”
cried Maurice, with impetuous eagerness—‘ the fantasy of
a fevered brain; for all these past days we have been
thinking, thinking, thinking—first of the city, then of the
dikes, then of the Prince and his words—till it has fairly
got upon my brain. Say, mijn vader, may I think of it
as a diseased fantasy of the brain ?”

“My son,” was the grave response, “there be some
matters upon which it behoves us not to speak with too
great assurance. There be mysteries surrounding this
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 45

little span of our human life into which we must not seek
too closely to pry. The good God has given to His chil-
dren various gifts, and it is not for us to despise or
disregard these same gifts, even though we might fain
have been without them. Thou knowest how even now,
through a dream of thine, great hurt to the family of our
good friends Meetkercke was averted, and many lives
saved. Wherefore seek not too much to fight against
what gives thee pain to see. I would we could send a
message of warning to the Prince, that some peril he recks
not of may lie athwart his path; but I fear were we to
speak only of the dream of a jonkher like our Maurice, he
would but receive it with a smile.” ;

“ He has lived a life of peril so long that danger seems
his meat and drink,” said Lionel. “He has escaped so
many thrusts that men say he bears a charmed life; and
yet I would Maurice had seen any head but his with the
black halo about it.”

“My children,” said the elder Wilford, with something
of solemnity in his tone, “if we may not have the power
to do aught by a message of warning that would scarce be
listened to if it reached the ears of the intrepid warrior-
Prince, we may yet help him by our prayers. And here
in the city of Antwerp we have still liberty to meet
together to pray to God in our own tongue, and to hear
the holy words of promise and comfort given in the Scrip-
tures. If calamity be hard at hand; if the hand which
guides the helm of state is to be taken away; if dark
clouds are settling over the horizon, and our right to meet
46 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

together in our own houses for prayer and praise be
threatened, let us not lose our privileges whilst they are
still ours. Let us call together our best friends, and ask
them to join with us in an especial manner to pray for the
Prince, and for the righteous cause in which the best years
of his life have been spent. We can at least do that, if
we can do nothing else; and it is meet and right we
should make known our requests unto God, as He has
bidden us.”

There was a unanimous and eager assent to this proposi-
tion, and before long a goodly number of burgher-citizens
had assembled in the long family apartment in Hooch
Straet. Such assemblies were by no means rare in that
house, for a copy of the entire Bible in the native tongue
was to be found there; and those who possessed only
fragments of the Scriptures, and had not all skill to
read what they possessed, gladly came to hear them read
and expounded by those better instructed; and both
Thomas Wilford and the elder Van der Hammer were
excellent readers, and had a decided gift both for exposi-
tion and prayer. .

And now, when the city of Antwerp was once again
seriously threatened by the fires of the Inquisition and
the cruel tyranny of the Spanish rule, it seemed natural
for the people to desire to meet often together whilst they
might, to read and to pray, and to discuss those very
subjects about which to think might soon be death. The
more thoughtful of the inhabitants of the city, knowing the
strength of Spain, the relentless tenacity of purpose that
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 47

characterized Philip the Second, and the brilliant genius of
the Prince of Parma, by no means shared the turbulent,
defiant spirit of the bulk of the citizens, and were far more
disposed to listen to counsels of prudence, and respond to
any suggestions from their great champion, than to trust
blindly in their own strength and believe themselves in-
vincible. Many hundreds of them remembered too well
the bloody Spanish Fury under Alva. Although the
Prince of Parma had shown himself a man of vastly
different calibre from his bloody predecessor, it was yet
impossible to forget that the soldiers under him were of
the hated Spanish race, and that a general could not al-
ways hold their savage passions in check, however much
he might desire it. Antwerp had fallen once; it was
impossible, therefore, to deny that it might fall again. And
though the wise minority were overborne in the present
by the turbulent and hot-headed majority, they had not
given up hope of being able even yet to bring the bulk of
the citizens to a more reasonable frame of mind. Mean-
time to meet together for prayer, and to appoint a day
of fasting and humiliation to be observed by those who
realized the gravity of the situation, seemed a right and
natural thing; and the room in Hooch Straet was quickly
crowded with grave-faced men and women, all deeply
conscious that the times in which they moved were times
of deepest importance and of very great peril.

Earnest indeed were the prayers offered up for the
distracted country, and for the great Prince upon whose
life so much seemed to hang. Maurice’s dream of evil
48 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

import was whispered about from one to another, and
heads were gravely shaken, for many there present had
reason to remember some strange and fatal fulfilment of
a like dream.

“Tf the Prince were to be taken away, the cause of
freedom and religion must surely be lost to us,” said more
than one voice; but as that whisper reached the ears of
the Wilford father, he rose up in his seat with intent to
speak, and a hush fell upon the room.

“My friends,” he said, speaking in the Dutch tongue,
which was as familiar to him as his own language, “I
scarce think that that is the fashion in which our God
would have us think or speak. Has He not given us
command not to put our trust in princes nor in any child
of man; nay, not though He Himself raise up those
princes to be our help in times of trouble? They are
instruments in His hand, and as such we value and revere
them; yet we must ever remember that they are but
instruments, and not learn to look upon them as the
saviours of the people. There is one only Saviour, one
only Prince and Lord. The King of kings is our shield
and defence, and to Him we must look when the clouds
and tempest seem most ready to overwhelm us. That is
the thought which should ever be present with us when
we think with shrinking and fear of seeing our earthly
rulers taken from us. In our prayers we are ready enough
to acknowledge that God is our refuge and strength, a
very present help in time of trouble. We boldly stand
forth and declare that we will not fear though the tempests
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 49

rage and swell, and the mountains be removed into the
midst of the sea. We declare with one voice that the Lord
of Hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge. And
should these words be heard only in our acts of prayer and
praise? Ought not their spirit to be breathed forth in
our daily life? Ought not we to exhibit day by day, in
face of all peril which may come to us, that steadfast
confidence in the Lord’s sovereign power we are so ready
to testify to with our lips? Is our testimony to be of the
lips only? Is our faith only assumed whilst we kneel and
pray to God? Is it not strong enough to go forth with
us into the stress of the world without, and to keep us
calm in the midst of many terrors? We know not what
God’s providence may have in store for us—we know not
what trials He may see fit to send us; but so long as we
look first to Him, and only secondly to those men He has
raised up in His mercy to be our rulers and counsellors,
then we need not lose heart or courage whatever may
betide us. He is the Lord of earth as well as of the
heavens. Upon Him should our hopes and our hearts be
set, and then most assuredly we need not fear though our
earthly props may be taken away, and we may seem for a
moment to be as a bark without a helmsman. God will
not desert us as long as we trust in Him. That should be
our help and stay even in the darkest hour of the night.”
These words were received with a murmur of assent,
and the little meeting broke up cheered and comforted.
It needed some such reminders from time to time to keep

even these members of the reformed flock from sinking
(444) 4
50 A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD.

down into a blind trust in their leaders, rather than in the
justice of their cause and the support they always looked
to receive from God. The past few years, during which
they had enjoyed freedom of religious opinion, had not
been years of unmixed advance. There had been time for
divisions and jealousies to arise between the different
factions even amongst those who held mainly the same
views, and though in moments of danger they would mass
together as of old, there was a good deal of bickering at
other times, and a decided tendency towards that luke-
warmness which had led so many of the lower Provinces
to permit themselves to be placed again beneath the
Spanish yoke, even after they had tasted something of the
sweets of freedom. The weariness of the long struggle
sapped away the resolution of some, belief in the delusive
’ promises of Spain blinded the eyes of others, and treachery
within the walls had given back many a fair city to
slavery that had won its way to freedom through rivers
of blood.

Would Antwerp show a like spirit? That was the
question ceaselessly exercising the minds of the most
thoughtful of her citizens. Her position was critical to
the last degree, even more so than she realized herself;
and with her would fall the whole of Flanders and
Brabant, leaving only Holland and Zeeland to oppose a
frail bulwark to the resistless might of Spain. And should
another blow fall upon the devoted Provinces in the death
of their great Prince, whose life was being ceaselessly
sought by the tyrant of the Escorial, it might well be that
A BURGHER HOUSEHOLD. 51

despair would paralyze the whole population, left suddenly
without their head; wherefore it was well that men should
remind each other of the too-often-forgotten fact that in
God’s hands rest the final issues of all such struggles, and
that men are but His instruments, to be used for the
furtherance of His great purposes.

“T am glad thou didst speak so, brother Wilford,” said
Van der Hammer, when their guests had dispersed, and
the women were laying the long table for supper. “For
whether or not there be trouble coming upon us, it is well
from time to time to hear such words. We are all frail
creatures, prone to forget God in man. It is right that
we should be reminded that though we are all called
upon to do our utmost in the righteous cause, yet that
God is in our midst, working for and with us. If we
should either now or at some future time lose our great —
champion, we must not yield to despair on that account ;
and we must strive to do all we may to infuse courage
into those about us. Son Maurice, thou shalt be set a
task before the next Sabbath, when our friends will meet
with us again. Thou hast a pretty gift for music. Thou
shalt make us a new hymn to sing; and thou shalt take
for thy theme these stirring words, ‘The Lord is a Man of
War; Jehovah is His Name’ ”
CHAPTER IIL.
EVIL TIDINGS.

“ AR’S END, forsooth!” sneered the little wizened

old man with the dark Italian face who sat
poring over a great tome by the light of a lamp of extra-
ordinary brilliance. Call it rather the Folly of Antwerp ;
for it is the biggest folly they have committed yet, and
that is not saying a small thing.”

“ Well, Signor Gianibelli, I only tell you what is told me,”
answered Malcolm Wilford, laughing. “All the city says
that when once she is afloat she will chase the Spaniards
out of the land, and put an end to the war. I went to
have a look at her lying in the dock. She will be a
monster when she is finished; and is to be made shot-
proof, so that no hurt can come to her from the fire of the
enemy. Her own guns will riddle the foe, whilst none
can touch her. Her bulwarks are ten feet thick, and she
will be able to carry one thousand men upon her.”

The sneer slowly deepened on the subtle face of the
weird-looking old man.

“And she will cost money enough to victual the city
for months; and when she is done she will but prove the
EVIL TIDINGS. 53

folly of her contrivers. Bah, boy! talk not to me of your
clumsy Antwerp devices. Your citizens have as much
brain amongst them as would serve one hen to bring up
a brood of chickens! War's End, forsooth! The Beginning
of Blunders would be a better name.”

Malcolm laughed. He dearly loved “drawing” the
irritable little Italian mechanician, with whom he had
somehow contrived to establish something like friendly
relations. This queer old foreigner, who had lived several
years in the city of Antwerp, was a man of wonderful
genius; but was accounted by some a dreamer, and by
others a sorcerer, whilst his very existence was unknown
to the world at large, though a day was at hand when
every soul in the city should have heard his name. He
was a man of invention and of extraordinary ingenuity ;
but had met the usual fate of his class, had been sneered
at and flouted, and had had the mortification of hearing
his treasured schemes made light of and his inventions
thrust incredulously aside. He had been a great traveller,
and had been not long ago as far as the Spanish court
at Madrid, striving to get audience of the King; but
disgusted by the treatment he received from the proud
courtiers, he had at length retired in dudgeon and despair,
and was now living quietly at Antwerp, brooding over his
wrongs, wrapped up in a hundred various ingenious plans,
and steadily resolved to be revenged upon the Spaniards
if fate should give him his chance. He had no love for
the people amongst whom he lived. He sneered at the dull
wits of the Dutch as much as he raved at the proud insolence
54 EVIL TIDINGS.

of the Spaniards’ There was no spark of patriotism or
love of liberty in the man. He would strike a blow for
Antwerp when the time came, if he could, but from private
pique rather than public spirit He had made many
enemies in the town and hardly one friend. His neigh-
bours feared him, accounting him a wizard, and were ,
polite out of sheer fear. But Malcolm was the only being
who came in and out of that queer little triangular house
wedged in between Closter Straet and the narrow thorough-
fare of Crommenellebogh, hardly a stone’s throw from his
own abode in Hooch Straet, though it seemed almost a
different world, so dim and dark was it, and full of strange
odours and mysterious tools.

The old man always sitting over his books, or with
some strange bit of mechanism before him, was in himself
a study, and one which a painter would have delighted to
portray on canvas, as the light from the lamp threw the
eager face into intense relief from the blackness that sur-
rounded him. ,

It was a strange face, full of subtlety and power—the
parchment-like skin drawn tightly over the sharp features,
and puckered into a network of minute wrinkles about
the eyes and temples, the sunken cheeks, the glittering
eyes as black as night and full of sombre fire, and the
cold, sneering mouth, thin-lipped and compressed, seeming
to speak of an iron will and powers of immense concentra-
tion. The hair was not grizzled, but was raven black
sprinkled freely with silver. It grew very luxuriantly,
and gave a leonine wildness to the aspect of the head.
EVIL TIDINGS. © ee

Self-controlled and sneeringly calm as was this man gener-
ally, he was subject to wild outbreaks of passion when his
wrath was stirred—fury-fits that once witnessed were
never forgotten. Something in the expression of the face
suggested the idea of fierce passions kept under stern
control ; but Malcolm never talked long to the old Italian
without being reminded of a voleano that might look
peaceful and harmless to the outward eye, and yet would
suddenly spout forth burning lava and fierce flames.

To tell the whole truth, Malcolm might scarcely have
striven as he had done to win his way with this strange
old man had it not been for the fact that Gianibelli pos-
sessed a daughter, the one and only being he appeared
ever to have loved (for of his wife he never spoke, and
even the girl had never extracted a single word from him
about the mother she could not remember), and for whom,
in his peculiar wayward fashion, he certainly entertained a
considerable amount of affection—that is, when his occu-
pations left him time to think of the domestic side of life.

Veronica was a girl well fitted to make the sunshine of
her strange and lonely home. She was a wonderfully
radiant young creature, with something of her father’s
intense brilliance of eye, but with features all her own,
sweet as well as noble, winsome as well as dignified. She
had a broad, thoughtful brow, exquisitely-chiselled fea-
tures, a complexion of a clear olive tint that in moments
of excitement took a rich damask bloom, and lips that
quivered and varied’ in expression with every varying
emotion, and seemed made for kisses, as Malcolm failed
56 EVIL TIDINGS.

not to tell her, when once he knew that his ardent love
was returned, and that the heart he had so long striven
to win was truly his own.

But things had gone no further with the young people.
than a mutual confession of love. It was scarce the time
to think of marrying or giving in marriage in these stormy,
troubled days, and Veronica well knew that her father
would simply fly off into one of his wild fits of fury if
Malcolm were to ask her hand in wedlock. Indeed, she
plainly told her lover that she saw no hope of ever being
able to be his; but of course the ardent youth was in no
wise daunted by such a fear, and plainly told her he would
serve for her like Jacob for Rachel, but that he would
have her at the last, father or no father.

And she listened with a smile, making light, as did he,
of the needful days of waiting,—strong in their hope, their
happiness, and their love. It seemed so easy to wait when
they might see each other daily. And as Malcolm passed
day by day down the Closter Straet on his way to the
Citadel, he never failed to catch the sparkle of Veronica’s
bright eyes, and knew that she was looking for him, and
was proud of his martial air and soldier-like trappings.

Whether the old father knew what was passing be-
neath his very eyes the lovers neither knew nor cared.
Malcolm was weleome to drop in for a chat whenever he
chose, and there was a seat at the frugal board for him if
he chose to remain for the simple meal of vegetable and
soup which was the ordinary repast of the Italian and his
daughter. Veronica was a cook of no small skill, and
EVIL TIDINGS. 57

beneath her hands the simple viands took a flavour which
often made Malcolm marvel.

“We shall fatten when you are all starving,” the old
man would say sometimes, with his grim, sneering smile.
“You fat, greedy Dutch must live always like fighting-
cocks, else your courage ebbs as fast as the tide of the
Scheldt. Wait till Parma has built his bridge, and you
will see.”

Malcolm never argued with the subtle Italian, always
knowing he should be worsted if he tried, though he might
have cited many noble cases where starving cities had held
out in the teeth of fearful privations against the tyranny
of the Spanish arms. But the youth himself was not so
confident as he would fain have been as to the temper of
his own townsmen. There was something selfish in the
democracy of Antwerp, as had been abundantly shown
before now. Fight they might, and fiercely and well;
but suffer? Ah, there was the rub! Malcolm was not
sure how they would behave should famine and dearth
stalk abroad through the streets. .

But that Antwerp was not going to submit tamely to
the foreign yoke was exemplified in a dozen different ways ;
and now all the citizens were running wild with enthu-
siasm over this great floating monster, which was already
named the War's End, and was to be strong enough to
bombard Parma’s chimerical bridge (when it should be
built) and scatter it to the four winds of heaven.

Even Malcolm, who had had his doubts as to the sea-
worthiness of this monster ship when first he heard of
58 EVIL TIDINGS.

it, had been carried away by the idea that it would
really serve some great purpose, and he argued the point
still with the Italian, though in a jocular fashion. Veron-
ica passed in and out of the little chamber, coming in for
a snatch of talk between her various household duties,
when suddenly they became aware of some excitement in
the streets, and Malcolm stepped out to find everybody
running helter-skelter.down the Crommenellebogh in the
direction of the Hoy Kay.

“What is it?” asked Veronica, with her hand upon his
arm. “What is happening thus to move the people?
Malcolm caro, run not into peril, if peril be abroad; or
take me with thee an thou goest. I would know myself
what has befallen.”

It was no very unwonted thing for there to be seen
these eager crowds of hurrying citizens hastening down
towards the river’s edge. In times of ceaseless skirmish-
ing, and of attack and menace, hardly a day passed with-
out something to arouse excitement, were it but for an
hour. There had been the sound of guns heard in the city
that day from the direction of the forts of Lillo and Lief-
kenshoek—twin fortresses held by the patriots, facing
each other some way down the river, built upon the great
dikes, and guarding the city from the approach of hostile
vessels. The brave Teligny commanded the former place,
and Colonel John Pettin of Arras the latter. The posses-
sion of these two forts was, as may well be seen, of the
first importance to the city of Antwerp, and it was no
surprise to the citizens to hear firing from their neighbour-
EVIL TIDINGS. 59

hood. There was ceaseless skirmishing warfare kept up
by the belligerent armies drawing their circles closer and
closer about the central spot—the queenly city upon whose
fate so much depended—and the sounds alone had not
aroused any alarm in the breasts of the people.

But that some news of no small importance had been
brought in now was evident. On all faces was stamped
a look of expectation and of dismay. It was plain that
evil tidings had reached the place.

“What is it?” asked Malcolm anxiously of one and
another; but nobody seemed able to answer the question,
and the only word he could catch as it passed from mouth
to mouth through the hurrying throng was—

“ Liefkkenshoek ! Liefkenshoek !”

“ Heaven send we have not lost Liefkenshoek!” cried
the youth, with a face of grave anxiety, as he turned
towards Veronica and gently pushed her within doors.
“Stay there, my beloved. I will down to the quay and
learn the news, and will return with it to thee anon. Thy
father would not wish thee to mingle with yon hurrying
crowd. I will not be long in coming back to thee.”

Veronica reluctantly let him go. She would not have
feared had she been at his side, but she was fearful
of peril for him when she was no longer able to see
him. With that high courage which often accompanies
a sensitive and imaginative spirit, she would have dared
any danger, so that they shared it together. She wished
in her heart that, if the net did close around Antwerp,
its women as well as its men might join in the defence,
60 EVIL TIDINGS.

as had many times been done ere now during the years of
bloodshed that had just rolled by. By Malcolm’s side she
would face anything. It was seeing him go forth alone
to danger and perhaps to death that she found so un-
speakably hard.

“What is all that coil in the streets, girl?” asked the
old man’s voice from within. “Stand thou not there by
the open door, Veronica. Thou art no longer a child;
thou must learn modesty and discretion. Come in, and
close the door and the shutters; yon tumult disturbs me.”

Veronica obeyed, though with reluctance. She was
keenly interested in every vicissitude that befell the city of
their adoption. She had lived five years in Antwerp, and
the greatest happiness of her life had come to her there.
Roman Catholic by training though she was, she was an
ardent advocate of the cause of liberty ; and since Malcolm
had begun to talk with her upon the matters connected
with his faith, she had begun to weave together the old
traditions and the new, and to find in them almost as much
of harmony as of discord; rather to her own surprise, for
she had been brought up to look upon them as creeds at
deadly variance.

“What new folly is on foot now 2” quoth the old man,
with his ready sneer. “When we live in a city of fools,
we must put up with these nightly and daily outbreaks of
folly. What are they saying now, child ?”

“I know not, father; I can only hear them speak of
Lietkenshoek. I misdoubt if the people who cry out know
what has befallen. Why, padre mio, what ails thee 2?”
EVIL TIDINGS. 61

For the old man had risen quickly from his seat with a
strange glitter in his eye.

“Fools! fools!” he cried aloud, in his mocking voice,
“Did not I say so? did not I warn them ?”

“Warn them of what, my father ?”

“That their fortifications there were incomplete; that
upon the Flemish side a breach could easily be made; that
if the place were to be held against the great Parma, more
work must be done there. Yea, I told it them—and they
laughed. Fools! fools! they ever do laugh when words
of wisdom be spoken to them. Have they not ever derided
me when I have opened my lips, even as they are scorn-
ing now the counsel of the one man in this distracted
country of fools whose word is worth listening to? If they
have lost Liefkenshoek, they have but themselves to thank.
Ho, ho! if this be the way Antwerp sets to work to
repel the besieging foe, a fine spectacle will she give the
world before all be over! If these things be done in the
green tree, what will be done in the dry?” And the old
man’s subtle face took a look which made Veronica shrink
slightly ; for although she loved and reverenced her father,
she did not love this wild vein of scornful cynicism which
always seemed to make him delight in the misfortunes
that overtook others, even though those others were nomi-
nally his friends.

“Tt may not be so bad as that,” she answered gently,
“Perchance there has been some attack upon Liefken-
shock. But Malcolm promised to come back anon with
the news.”
bs EVIL TIDINGS.

Gianibelli grunted as he returned to his heavy tome,
but was not displeased at this, for he was eager after news,
even though assuming indifference towards it. Veronica
listened intently for the sound of returning footsteps, and
sprang to open the door before Malcolm had had time to -
knock for admittance. She knew his step amongst a
hundred, and her quick ears gave her warning of his
approach before he reached the threshold. He came in
looking very grave, his face pale with anger and mortifica-
tion. Veronica saw at a glance that he was the bearer of
evil tidings.

“Tt is too true,” he said in a low voice: “the Spaniards
have carried Liefkenshoek at a blow. Scarce twenty men
out of the eight hundred there have escaped to tell the
tale. O my God! what have we done to deserve such
terrible misfortune? Liefkenshoek—darling’s corner! Well,
our darling fortress has cost us dear—eight hundred of
our bravest soldiers put to the sword, and the Spanish flag
waving above the ramparts !”

“I knew it! I knew it!” cried the Italian, in a strange
tone of mingled exultation and scorn. “Did I not say
that the fortifications were incomplete 2”

“Ay, verily you did,” answered Malcolm, with a bitter
sigh; “and it only adds a poignancy to the blow to know

that the fault lies at home. It was that weak place,

which was known to but ignored by our foolhardy bur-
egg: that has been our undoing. They say that the
Prince of Parma reconnoitred the fort in person; and to-

day the Marquis of Richebourg, with a hundred picked
EVIL TIDINGS. 63

veterans, made a dash upon the weak spot, took it by sur-
prise, and was quickly followed by the whole regiment.
All who were not slain within the walls were chased along
the dike and either killed by the sword or drowned in the
sullen waters. Scarce twenty men have escaped, wounded
and bleeding, to tell the evil news in the city. They say
that the brave Colonel Pettin has been carried to the Prince
of Parma. But there is a rumour rife that the Marquis
stabbed him to the heart with his own hand. Heaven
help this distracted city if troubles like these are to fall
upon her, and no head wise enough to direct her or hand
strong enough to hold the reins!”

“In sooth it needs a strong hand to hold the reins when
there be a team of wild horses to drive, all pulling different
ways!” said the Italian, with his peculiar sneering smile.
“There is but one hand which could accomplish that task ;
and if Antwerp be wise, instead of the city of fools she
loves to show herself, she will send an earnest deputation
to the Prince of Orange, imploring him to come in person
to her, if but for one week, to examine into all things
personally himself, and try to set matters going in the
right direction, without this everlasting conflict of opinion,
which will be the ruin of the cause if it be not suppressed.
Indeed I would he would come; it would give all Antwerp
hope and enthusiasm to see his grave face and stately
figure again.”

There was a malicious gleam in Gianibelli’s eyes as he
went on with his speech, which was rather a monologue
than an attempt at conversation.
64 EVIL TIDINGS.

“You lovers of freedom, who will naught either of King
or Pope, but will think for yourselves, govern yourselves,
worship for yourselves, are finding out, by slow and sure
degrees, that you are but changing one tyrant for many;
one faith for a thousand petty beliefs, no two alike; order
for confusion, rule for anarchy. Oh yes, my young friend,
you may colour and bite your lip, but you will find my
words are true. Look at this distracted city. She owns
the sway neither of King nor of Pope, and what has she
gained thereby? She is governed by a hydra-headed
monster that knows not good from evil, light from dark-
ness, wisdom from folly. She is swayed by a maddened
and inflamed crowd, all thinking differently, all acting for
self and not for the public weal. Mark my words, young
soldier of the republic, Antwerp will fall, and she will de-
serve her fate. No man ever yet was fit to rule who had
not learned how to submit himself first to the powers that
be. Antwerp will fall because that she strives to run ere
she can walk; she throws off the rightful rule of those
above her ere she knows one fragment of the art of self-
government. Blind in her folly, mad in her arrogance, she
is courting her own destruction; and unless she summons
to her aid the one man who could save her from herself,
she falls !”

Malcolm walked homewards in no small depression of
spirit, with these words of evil omen ringing in his ears.
It was not that he believed, as some of his townsfolk cer-
tainly did, that Gianibelli was a sorcerer, and had dealings
with the devil which gave him power to read the secrets
EVIL TIDINGS. 65

of the future. But he was well assured that the subtle-
minded and keen-witted Italian possessed gifts both of
insight and judgment far in advance of the majority of
men; hence anything which passed his lips came with a
semblance of authority, although in his moments of excite-
ment and rage he generally spoke a good deal more than
he meant.

“Antwerp will fall! Antwerp will fall!” The words
seemed to ring like a knell in his head; and when he
reached home he found that the evil news had already
preceded him. Grave anxiety was upon every face. The
two fathers were talking together in low and anxious
tones ; the women were pale and tearful; Lionel’s face was
set and stern; whilst Otto and Joris were working away
polishing their arms with a look of resolve upon their
‘faces that seemed to imply some settled purpose; and
Maud came forward as Malcolm appeared, her face flushed
and excited, erying as she took him by the arm,—

“O Malcolm, hast heard the news? Liefkenshoek has
fallen to the enemy; and to-morrow Joris and Otto and
their company go to Lillo to join Teligny’s young bachelors
there. Every one is saying that Mondragon will storm
Lillo next ; and if that falls too, Antwerp is lost indeed !”

“Join Count Teligny in Fort Lillo! marry, a good
thought,” cried Malcolm, whose young blood was tingling
to be up and doing. “I will forth with them too.—Harold,
art thou not going likewise? I would I could be in half
a hundred places at once, so I could meet the Spaniards

face to face in all!”
(444) 5
66 EVIL TIDINGS.

“Gently, lad, gently,” answered Lionel, smiling as he
patted his impetuous brother’s shoulder; “we must not
rob the city of too many of her most willing soldiers.
With the enemy safely ensconced at Kalloo, and his forts
rising, day by day, as if by magic around us, we must be
ready for assault at home as well as abroad. We must
not too greatly drain the resources of the city. We are
sending one company to reinforce Fort Lillo, which is
certain to be the next point attacked; and it chances that
it is the company in which Joris and Otto are enrolled.
Thy turn will come another day, my boy; thou mayest be
very sure of that. This siege of our city will not end
before we have all of us fought hand to hand with our
foes, and have tested the mettle of which we are made in
the face of cold Spanish steel.”

“God preserve us all!” spoke the juffrouw Van der
Hammer, as she gave a shuddering glance round at the
circle of loved faces about her. Well did she remember
those awful days, not yet ten years since, when the Span-
iards had wrecked the fair city of Antwerp amid scenes of
indescribable horror. Their own house had escaped as by
a miracle; and the children had been all sent out of the
city before the commencement of the siege, that they might
escape the privations their elders were content to suffer
in the good cause; so that they had not witnessed the
horrors which, however, they had heard so often described
that they seemed to be as well acquainted with them as
their parents. Under the milder rule of the Prince of
Parma, Alva’s atrocities were not like to be repeated, and
EVIL TIDINGS. 67

Antwerp was perhaps something over-secure in her con-
fidence of being able to resist the threatened doom of cap-
ture; but the women quaked and felt a qualm of fear at
every whisper of evil tidings, and to-night all faces were
grave and all hearts heavy. But those who were going
forth to join the fray and stand in the forefront of the
battle showed the most joyous air, and spoke confidently
of winning back the captured fort when once Mondragon
should have been defeated before the walls of Lillo.

“Tf this calamity would but bring the Prince in person
to Antwerp!” said Malcolm; and many were the exclama-
tions of hope that this might indeed be the case.

Alas, alas! they little knew that the strong hand which
was so sorely needed to hold the reins of government was
already stiff and cold in death, and that the noble heart
which had resisted all allurements, scorned all bribes and
all threats, and been true in the noblest way to the cause
of freedom, had already ceased to beat!

Unhappy Antwerp! robbed at the most critical moment
of her history of the one being whose name yet overbore
in some sort the self-will of the selfish masses——whom all
Antwerpers revered and loved; who might, by his personal
presence and influence, have yet conquered her stubborn
short-sightedness and roused her to the true patriotism
which breathed in his own life. But it was not to be.

Karly the next morning, whilst the sun was rising over
the city, the inhabitants were startled from their tardy
sleep, after the excitements of the evening, by the solemn
tolling of the great bell of Our Lady, and the mournful
68 EVIL TIDINGS.

note was quickly answered from the various other churches
scattered up and down Antwerp.

‘As the first of those doleful notes struck on the ears of
young Maurice, who shared the sleeping-chamber of his
comrade Malcolm, the boy sprang up in his bed with a low
ery of bitter despair.

“Tt has come! it has come!” he cried. “The doom!
the doom!” and jumping up, he commenced to-dress him-
self with all the haste his trembling hands could make,
Malcolm following his example without a word.

Hastening out into the street, they found themselves
joined by pale-faced inquirers from many another house.
Nobody knew at first the meaning of the ceaseless tolling,
but that it boded ill to Antwerp none might doubt; and
as the running groups made their way rapidly into the
open space about the great Cathedral, they heard a sound
of weeping and wailing, and came upon a sight that was
never forgotten by any who witnessed it.

A reeking horse stood with drooping head in the centre
of the square, sniffing at, without touching, the fodder
some humane person had brought for it, though the empty
pail beside it showed that its thirst had been assuaged;
and sitting yet in the saddle, as though the energy to dis-
mount was lacking him, was a man in courtier’s garb,
though stained and spotted with the haste of a rapid
journey without due preparation.

His face was white and his eyes were bloodshot. There
was that in his aspect which struck terror and dismay into
the hearts of all who approached him; and as the throng
EVIL TIDINGS. 69

kept shifting and changing, as those who had heard the
fearful tidings moved away to let others take their place,
he kept repeating his story in a strangely dull, mechanical
way, as though even the power of thought were lost.

“Dead! dead! dead! Shot to the heart by the hand
of an assassin! ‘O my God, have mercy on this poor
people !’—his last words, as I can testify, for I was but
ten yards from him as he fell. The Prince, the Prince,
the noble Prince—the father of his people! God in
heaven look down and avenge his death! Gone in a
moment—dead almost ere we could lift him! O my God,
have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us!”

The voice of the crowd took up that note of prayer,
and amidst the tolling of the bell, and the wild, stormy
weeping of men who had perhaps never shed a tear in
their lives before, there went up as with one voice the
supplication of a great multitude,—

“God have mercy upon us! Christ have mercy upon us!” |

The awe-stricken, white-faced throng looked each other
in the face, scarcely able to believe the fearful story true.
Their Prince and leader taken from them—the one man
who seemed able to cope with the tyrant of Spain, and to
guide the troubled bark of national freedom through the
stormy waters which threatened to overwhelm it! Could
it be true? Surely it was all some horrid dream! Mal-
colm felt young Maurice stagger against him, and threw
his arm about the boy, for he had turned as white as
death.

“Come, let us go home,” he said; “we have learned all
70 EVIL TIDINGS.

too much as it is. Ah, Maurice, Maurice, that dream of
thine was but too true!”

“Speak not of it—let us get home!” gasped the younger
lad, altogether unnerved by the tragic solemnity of the
scene he had witnessed; and Malcolm was glad to clear
a passage through the crowd for his companion, and see
him safe to the sheltering door of home.

Doors and windows all down the Hooch Straet stood
open wide, and pale-faced men and women were coming
crowding out.

“Tt is not true! say it is not true!” cried Maud,
dashing forward, as her brother and his companion ap-
peared. But Maurice’s death-like face and Malcolm’s tear-
dimmed eyes told a tale that could not be misread, and
with a low ery as of despair the girl covered her face with
her hands and fled within again.

Strong men were not ashamed to weep for one who had
been as a father, not to them alone, but to the cause to
which their hearts were pledged, and in which their very
beings were wrapped up. Both the fathers of the double
family were striving to speak, though sobs strangled the
words they would fain have uttered, and the women and
children were weeping aloud as though for some near and
dear one. As though by magic, the whole city was clothed
in black. Men who had never spoken before—who were
strangers to each other—stopped in the streets to mourn
together him who was lost, or enter side by side a church
to join in some service wherein the people remembered the
virtues of him who was gone, and implored the help and
EVIL TIDINGS. 71

protection of the God of heaven for them in their hour of
need. The Roman Catholics knelt before their shrines and
prayed to their saints for him who was gone; for hun-
dreds and thousands of these Romanists, though differing
from the Prince in religious matters, were heart and soul
with the cause of freedom, and honoured and revered its
champion as much as those of his own religious principles.
Throughout the place was there nothing to be heard save
the voice of weeping and wailing. It was a day that all
the land had cause to remember, the memory of which
was never obliterated even by the stirring scenes which
followed.

Lionel was out all day on his various duties; but
coming in at night with:a wearied and harassed air, he
brought tidings that had in them something of comfort.

“We are not going to yield to despair—thank Heaven
for that!” he said, as he met the anxious eyes of the two
elder men bent upon him. “There was but one voice in
the Council to-day, and that voice was, ‘ War to the death !’
—war against tyranny and oppression, war against those
whose devilish plots have caused the death of Europe’s
greatest man. To avenge that death shall be our sacred
duty; and yon assassin in his secret chamber, surrounded
by his slaves and minions, shall have reason to tremble,
thousands of miles away, for the rage and fury he has
kindled in the hearts of this people to-day. William
of Orange shall be avenged! a thousand hearts have

1”

sworn it
CHAPTER IV.
THE COMING STRIFE.

EN went about in those days with set, stern faces.
M The blow which had laid the great Prince in the
grave had struck home also to the hearts of the people,
and the universal mourning was a strange and impressive
sight to see. But if the people all mourned as one man,
as one man, too, they resolved not to abandon in despair
the cause for which their “father,” as they loved to call
him, had laid down his life. From every city came the
news of the same patriotic resolve—to stand to their
colours; to avenge the death of their head by a fuller
measure of resistance to the foe against whom he had been
pledged; to rob the Spanish tyrant of the fruit of his
base triumph ; and to show him that though William the
Silent was dead, his spirit yet lived and worked in those
he had left behind him.

When news reached Antwerp of the fearful doom in-
flicted on the assassin, men listened in stern approval ; and
if these things showed that it was not the Spaniards alone
who understood the art of cruelty, there were few who
expressed horror at the fate of the miscreant or blamed
THE COMING STRIFE. 13

his executioners. The feeling of the nation was that no
fate could be bad enough for him who had slain their
father.

But the cruel death of the assassin could not restore
their leader to them; and soon was Antwerp to feel the
loss she had sustained, for there was none now able to
control the lawless passions and turbulent quarrels of the
nobility—the great men upon whom the control of affairs
now fell; and eager as the majority were to forward the
good cause, there were a thousand differences and diffi-
culties continually arising which no one had authority to
arrange or allay.

Antwerp was speedily to feel the loss of the great
Prince in the procrastination and insubordination of Ad-
miral Treslong.

There was now no doubt that Parma meant seriously
to set about the siege of the city, and therefore it was
of the first importance that the place should be properly
victualled. Sainte Aldegonde had intrusted this matter
to the Admiral, knowing that for bravery and reckless
daring that old “beggar of the sea” could hardly meet
his match.

But with the death of Orange private grudges and
animosities sprang up, and Treslong became restive and
defiant. He was jealous of Sainte Aldegonde, and he was
a bitter enemy of the French policy which was strenuously
advocated by the latter. He was in no sort of haste to
do his bidding—first demanding a certain sort of boat for
the expedition; and then, when these were supplied hin,
74 THE COMING STRIFE.

delaying and frittering away precious time, until at the last
he so exasperated his countrymen that they rose up and
threw him into prison.

These things took time to accomplish. But whilst
bickerings and recriminations were being bandied about
between the nobles, Antwerp was waiting for supplies, and
Parma was working slowly and steadily towards his ap-
pointed end; and the citizens looked each other in the
face as days passed by, and asked when the supplies were
coming which should put the city beyond fear of famine.

Still in these days of July the peril was not imminent;
it was believed that Admiral Treslong and his krom-
stevens, laden with golden grain and supplies of all kinds,
might any time be seen sailing into the city. The loss of
Liefkenshoek, the death of the Prince, and Mondragon’s
threatened attack upon Lillo, absorbed the attention of the
citizens; and for the moment it was hoped that the very
imminence of the peril engendered by their great loss
would draw the States closer together and inflame them
with unselfish and patriotic zeal.

The messenger who had ridden the sixty miles from
Delft to Antwerp in one night, to bring the dread tidings
of the Prince’s death to that city, was lodging now in the
hospitable house in Hooch Straet, whither he had been
brought by Lionel after his tale had been told to the
crowd in the street, and reported again before the Council.

The young man was a courtier in the household of
William of Orange, and had been standing near his master
when the fatal blow had been struck.
THE COMING STRIFE. 75

The assassin had been the bearer of important tidings
relative to the death of the Duke of Anjou, and had been
hanging about the house for above a day. He had had an
interview with the Prince ; but this had been altogether
unexpected, and he had not been armed. He had been so
shabbily attired that the Prince had sent orders for him to
have clothing supplied him at his own cost; and Gerard
was wearing these very clothes when he struck down his
benefactor, firing three bullets into his body as he was
leading the way from the dining-room up the staircase
after he and his guests had dined.

The horror of that scene was indelibly impressed upon
the mind of the young man, and impressed itself vividly
upon the minds of his hearers: the exclamation of the
dying man; the prayer for his country—always the first
thought with him ; his death in a few minutes—commend-
ing his soul by an almost wordless gesture into the hands
of his Saviour. There was not a dry eye in that long room
as the messenger in broken accents told his tale; and the
story of his long ride through the country from three
o'clock upon the fatal day till he arrived in Antwerp at
five the following morning, having changed horses many
times along the route, was listened to with breathless
interest. The universal grief and wailing he everywhere
left behind him; the tolling of the bells, which for days
seemed to ring in his ears; the sight of the blanched faces
which had surrounded him at every halt—all these things
were indelibly engraven on his memory; and as he spoke
of them, his listeners felt as though they saw with his
76 THE COMING STRIFE.

eyes and heard with his ears, and would never, never for-
get that terrible tenth of July so long as time remained.

“Tf we have lost our greatest leader, may we not make
one great sacrifice to his memory?” spoke Lionel Wilford
on the next occasion when the Broad Council met. “It is
but a short while since he sent us the message of earnest
import, imploring us to cut the Kowenstyn Dike. He is
no longer here to urge his will upon us; but may it not
be the greatest tribute we can pay to his memory to do
the thing he desired of us, so that if his spirit can know
what passes here below, he may have the satisfaction of
knowing that for Antwerp, at least, his death has done
more than his life ?”

There was a visible impression produced by these words
upon the assembly. A murmur almost like that of assent
began to arise. Perhaps had the Burgomaster arisen and
made one of his burning and eloquent orations, the day
might yet have been carried. But Sainte Aldegonde had
been half convinced by arguments used before of the dan-
ger to the city from so heroic a remedy against possible
famine, and he remained silent; whilst another counsellor
arose and asked why, if a dike must be pierced, the Saf-
tingen Dike upon the Flemish bank would not answer the
same purpose, for there the land was far less rich and
valuable, and yet the mass of water would equally be
brought up to the walls of Antwerp.

This suggestion was hailed as an inspiration by many at
the Council, who desired to appear to wish to work the
will of the Prince, whilst by no means desirous of foregoing
THE COMING STRIFE. 17

their private interests. The Burgomaster, however, made
‘doubtful answer. He said that when he himself had pro-
posed that plan to the Prince, the latter had pointed out
many serious objections; and it was certainly open to the
objection that the Prince of Parma’s camp was on the Flem-
ish side of the river, and that this camp and all its ad-
jacent forts would neutralize to a great extent the value
of the rupture. So in the end nothing came of Lionel’s
move but a vast amount of talk, which ended, as was only
too common, in recrimination and disputings, whilst the
whole question of dike-piercing went again into abeyance,
until the hour was past.

“Tt is useless to strive more,” said Lionel, on his return
home ; “the people are resolved to blind their eyes. They
will see nothing but that which they wish to see. I spoke
my word. I did what I could. But our Burgomaster is
himself discouraged and half-hearted in the matter. And
neither he nor any person in Antwerp yet believes that
Parma’s bridge can ever be built.”

“Gianibelli says it can,” remarked Malcolm, looking up.
“He says it can, and that he could do it.”

“He is a fond dreamer,” remarked Maud, with a little
laugh. “Methinks he believes he could overturn the
world, if great men would but listen to his wild schemes.”

“Not always so wild as thou thinkest, my sister,” an-
swered Malcolm, with a smile. “I have not learning
enough to understand all his talk—may, nor more than
a tithe of it—but there be times when his words strike
home like a ray of light, and I see in a moment things I
78 THE COMING STRIFE.

had not dreamed of before. He is a wonderful man, and
he knows more of those arts of mining and construction
than any soul I have ever seen, or any one in Antwerp, I
take it.”

“ And he is Veronica’s father,” whispered Maud, with a
mischievous smile in her eyes, as she bent over her brother ;
“and so he must needs find a champion in thee.”

A bright colour arose in the young man’s cheek; but he
made no response in words, only flashing at her a glance
of warning—for at present this love of his was kept a
secret in his own breast, only revealed to his sister because
she was very near and dear to him.

“He is a clever man,” said Lionel, “a man of learning
and genius; and yet I mislike him. He has the air of a
mocker against man and God. Still, he knows what he
says, and if he thinks our wide and turbulent river may be
bound by a bridge—as it was plain the great Prince like-
wise did—it behoves us the more to think carefully what
we do, lest we be overtaken in the snare that is set for us.”

“But,” said Malcolm, with a bright, eager light in his
eyes, “he says, too, that if the Prince of Parma builds the
bridge, he can destroy it by one single gigantic blow,
such as shall make the ears of all Europe tingle. And in
all faith I trow he could do that which he says. Me-
thinks it is no idle boast. I verily believe the thing could
be done. He has almost shown me how.”

The girls pressed round him with eager curiosity.

“Nay, Malcolm, but how? Tell us!” they cried, with
bated breath, “Is it by some witchcraft and sorcery ?”
THE COMING STRIFE. 79

“Nay, nay,” answered the youth, smiling. “Do ye not
know that all such tall is idle folly—the folly of men
who know not what they say? Our Italian friend deals
not in soreery—if there be such a thing in the world,
which our parents bid us doubt. He only uses those
things we all of us use day by day and hour by hour,
little knowing what power in them lies. He knows their
properties. He has a mine of lore, which helps him to
constant new discoveries, and each discovery is what he
calls a step towards the goal. But I must not divulge to
you what he has told me. He pledged me to silence, and
my word must not be broken. All I may say I have
said—that if the bridge were to be built, he could shatter
it at a blow; he says it himself, and I believe that it is
true.”

“Heaven send it may be so!” said juffrouw Van der
Hammer, with a slight shudder; “for it is a fearful thing
to be cut off from all one’s friends, and shut within a city
fenced about with foes. We who have been through it
once know what it is like.”

“Ah, but it will never be like that again, grandam,”
cried Philip eagerly. “Why, everybody says the French
king will shortly send a great army and drive the Prince
of Parma out of the country. Now that the Prince of
Orange is dead, they say that he will be King not only of
our lower Provinces, but of Holland and Zeeland as well—
which was the only thing that made the difficulty before
with the envoys. Don’t you know, as long as our Prince
lived, Holland and Zeeland would never have obeyed any-
80 THE COMING STRIFE.

body but him? and the proud French were in a manner
jealous of his influence. But now that their King may
have undisputed sovereignty, he will no longer hesitate,
and we shall soon see the Spaniards swept from the land,
and enjoy our ancient rights and privileges under the pro-
tection of our brothers of France !”

Philip was repeating the talk that was common in the
city, and popular amongst its citizens, who were not over
and above well informed as to the nature of the negotia-
tion on foot, and were absolutely ignorant of the profound
and complicated game of dissimulation and intrigue being
played by the various parties at the French Court, and by
the Spanish potentate himself. The confidence felt through-
out the lower Provinces that France would speedily come
to their rescue, was doing more to paralyze their own
efforts after freedom than any disunion amongst them-
selves could do; and it seemed to many that the death
of the Prince of Orange would tend to facilitate the nego-
tiation, by inducing Holland and Zeeland to throw them-
selves as unreservedly into the arms of the French as
Brabant and Flanders were prepared to do, who had par-
tially submitted themselves again to Spain, but hoped that
France would come forward and drive out the hated foe
from their midst.

The elder members of the Wilford family, however, did
not share the confidence of their townsfolk ; though they
kept their misgivings for the most part to themselves, as,
if they spoke of them openly, it was regarded as a sign
of treachery and their foreign lukewarmness in the cause.
THE COMING STRIFE. 81

Lukewarmness was in reality sapping away the strength
of Antwerp, as the abandonment of Hérenthals plainly
showed. It was another of those extraordinary blunders
that were a marked feature all through this momentous
siege. Hérenthals might not appear very valuable to
Antwerp, but it was of immense value to the Spaniards,
who at once took possession of it.

“It is plain the Prince of Orange is dead,” was the
remark of their leader as he walked in unopposed, and
Antwerp awoke, as usual when it was too late, to see the
folly of her apathy.

As the days and weeks sped by, and there was no news
of Admiral Treslong, save that he was still mutinous and
refractory, and had been openly censured by the States-
General (with the effect only of increasing his defiance and
insubordination), the garrison and citizens alike became
anxious about the question of supply, and prices began to
rise with alarming rapidity.

As soon as this was known, there were plenty of bold
Zeeland skippers to be found ready to run cargoes of corn
and other provisions into Antwerp (though Parma’s vigi-
lance along the left bank of the river rendered the task
both difficult and dangerous), in order to obtain double or
treble the price for their wares that they could get else-
where.

But it was hazardous traffic, as many of them found
to their cost; and had they not been hardy and almost
amphibious creatures, and perhaps the most experienced

sailors in the world for that species of water traffic, the
(444) 6
82 THE COMING STRIFE.

task would have been even more difficult and hazardous
than it was.

‘But the Spaniards were almost as eager after food as
the citizens of Antwerp. Cleverly as they tried to conceal
the fact, supplies. with them were terribly low. Their
master, who expected so much from his soldiers, kept them
villanously ill-paid and ill-fed; and these tempting loads
of eatables passing into the city were a mark for the
Spanish soldiers that they keenly prized. Antwerp was
soon to know what deadly peril their brave allies ran who
were bringing them food in the teeth of Spanish hunger
and Spanish guns.

“The boats are coming! the boats are coming!” Such
was the cry passed up the streets one brilliant August
morning. It was a welcome cry to housewives and pru-
dent citizens, for they were all beginning to make private
preparations against the possible scarcity with which
they were threatened; and at the news of any boats
bearing up with the tide to the city walls, hundreds of
persons would crowd down to the Hoy Kay, where the
usual landings were made, and try to fill their baskets
with such provisions as were to be had. Some boat-loads
were bought intact by the city authorities ; but there were
certain skippers who traded direct with the citizens, and
as it was usual for a number of boat-loads to come in to-
gether—generally on a high tide, which had helped them
to pass quickly beneath the Spanish guns, and to avoid
their boats in the chase—large numbers of persons flocked
down to the quay, all eager to see what quality of goods
THE COMING STRIFE. 83

was arriving, and what share they themselves could ob-
tain.

Roosje was always foremost, if possible, at the arrival
of the boat. She was the practical manager of that large
double household, which comprised so -many members, old
people and tender children, as well as the young and
strong, and it was natural that she should feel anxious
to fill her store-places with all such food as would keep
through the winter months, when provisions might be
scarce and yet more dear. She had begun a private vict-
ualling of her own before the city generally commenced
to trouble about it, and was almost always foremost on the
quay to see the boats come in, her sisters or brothers often
accompanying her to help in the bargains and in the carry-
ing up of the loads purchased.

Sometimes her husband was with her, questioning the
skippers about the doings of the enemy along the dikes,
and the increase or decrease of their numbers. The fall of
Liefkenshoek to the Spaniards had seriously impaired the
food traffic into the city. Formerly there had been little
peril to encounter before the boats reached Kalloo, where
Parma’s bridge preparations were being commenced. Now
they were openly fired on from the fort so ingloriously
lost; and though Lillo did its best to shield and protect
them, several cargoes of grain had been sunk there as it
was, whilst others had fallen into the hands of the Span-
iards, and the unfortunate Zeelanders had been butchered
in cold blood.

News of the fate of the first convoy sent after the fall
84 THE COMING STRIFE.

of Liefkenshoek (before the Zeelanders had realized that
they had enemies there instead of friends) had reached
the city from Lillo a day or two before, and therefore the
arrival of these boats was hailed withthe greater satis-
faction. People had for a few days been really afraid that
supplies might already begin to fail them, and therefore at
the first appearance of this little flotilla there was a general
rush down to the Hoy Kay.

The boats were still some little way off by the time
Roosje, together with Coosje, Malcolm, and Maurice, ar-
rived at the water’s side, and there was quite a concourse
gathered there in expectation of their arrival.

There was a little haze hanging over the river, and the
outline of the vessels was not very clearly seen; but the
slowness with which they approached excited wonder and
curiosity amongst the impatient waiters.

“They are not wont to come thus!”—* There is not
wind to swell the sails!”—* No; but why do they not take
to their oars, as they are wont to do ?”—“ What has come
to them, that they are content thus to drift ?”—-“ Heaven
send this be not another misfortune pending !”—“ By the
Holy Virgin,” cried a woman of the Roman Catholic
faith, crossing herself devoutly, “I fear me they are phan-
tom ships sent hither by the devil to delude us!”

And then a silence fell upon all the waiting crowd, as
though each feared to hazard an opinion as to what this
strange sight might mean.

Nearer and nearer drifted the boats with the rising
tide, and a strange sound of moaning was heard from the
THE COMING STRIFE. 85

foremost. Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Mal-
colm flung off his shoes and his upper tunic and plunged
into the river, followed by a cheer from the crowd. He
struck out boldly, and quickly reached the foremost boat,
into which he adroitly scrambled. For a moment he dis-
appeared from view, stooping down as though to look at
something lying in the bottom of the little craft, and then
he suddenly seized a great paddle, and rapidly propelled
the boat towards the quay.

“A curse upon the Spaniards!” was the one word he
uttered through his shut teeth as he drove the vessel up
against the stone wall; and as it was held fast by a hun-
dred willing hands, many others sprang aboard, and soon
there arose the sound of bitter curses and execrations as
the nature of the cargo became known.

No grain was there, no butter nor cheese, nor any of
those commodities which the women were waiting to receive,
but some half-dozen cruelly-mutilated men and women—
yes, women also; for strange as it may seem, the bold Zee-
land wives often accompanied their husbands on this peril-
ous mission—some already dead, others living yet, but
slowly bleeding to death, mangled past the hope of recov-
ery, so that the truest kindness would have been to put
them out of their misery at once, as though they had been
dumb beasts.

Yes, it was this species of savage warfare that made
the Spanish name so justly execrated in the Netherlands.
Not content with capturing the cargoes of corn, not even
content with butchering the brave Zeelanders who had
86 THE COMING STRIFE.

striven to run these cargoes into the half-beleaguered city,
the Spanish soldiers had amused themselves and sought to
strike new terror into the hearts both of Zeelanders and
Antwerpers by this piece of brutal and gratuitous cruelty.
Every boat as it came ashore in the city out of the circling
mist bore its ghastly burden of dead and dying human
creatures, upon whom these ghastly and fearful injuries
had been inflicted.

No wonder the heart of the multitude was stirred; no
wonder the curses and execrations which arose from the
river-side were deep and loud, like the roaring of the
waves of the sea.

The women with one accord threw down their baskets,
and vied with each other in dressing the fearful gashes and
bleeding wounds, and holding the cup of water to the
parched lips of the dying sufferer—doing all, in fact, that
could be done to allay their pain and make easy the pas-
sage to the death they coveted. Scarce six out of the
whole number ever lived to recover of their hurts, and
deep and wide-spread was the indignation of the city as
this new instance of Spanish ferocity was brought home to
them.

“Better sink with our city into the waves of the sea
than own such hell-hounds as our masters,” was the word
that was freely passed from mouth to mouth. “Sure they
must see that anything is better than the tender mercies
of Spain. Sure they will do anything to keep the hated
foe at bay.”

So said the women in Hooch Straet, as they watched
THE COMING STRIFE. 87

over the one sufferer brought to their house, who lingered
on until evening and then died. It had been for them a
terrible day, bringing home to the minds of the girls the
possibility of horrors of which they had formerly whis-
pered without in any way realizing how fearful they
might become in reality. The face of Coosje, usually so
full of animation and light, was white to the lips with the
horror of what she had that day witnessed; whilst Roosje
could not keep herself from going again and again to fold
her own children in her arms with passionate embraces,
remembering stories told of the Antwerp Spanish Fury ten
years before, when little children had been dismembered
alive before their mothers’ eyes, or tossed on the sword’s
point out of lofty windows, or into the advancing flames
of the burning houses.

“Mother, ought we to let them stay in the city? Why
do we not all fly together whilst there is yet time?” she
asked once, in passionate tones, as she clasped her youngest
little girl in her arms. “Is it right to run such fearful
risks for these innocent little ones? We keep saying that
Antwerp will never fall—that the French will come—that
the Prince of Parma will never succeed with his blockade ;
but who can really forecast the future? Lionel does not
believe in the French alliance. The Prince of Orange
believed that the bridge might be built. Why do we all
stay here, perhaps to perish? Why not fly while we
may ?”

“Courage, my daughter,” said Madam Wilford, with a
smile, whilst the young wife’s own mother looked at her
88 THE COMING STRIFE.

with tender sympathy and encouragement. “There be
many things to think of ere a great household like ours
may be broken up. The jonkhers have their duties here.
It would be an ill thing to take them away in the moment
of peril; and I trow well that thy husband and my son
would not budge an inch from his duty within these walls.
If we go, we must leave our nearest and dearest behind us.
Would that please you, daughter? And again, whither
shall we go? True, we are some of us thinking of a return
to England, where there is for the present peace for all
who think as we do; but our plans are not yet so forward
that we could quit this city without great loss; and I for
one would sooner face a peril all together than see our
happy party split up, some going one way and some
‘another—wife parted from husband and child from parent.
Peril and privation shared together can be sweet, as we do
know. Far, far more terrible is the uncertainty of living
from day to day in doubt of the safety of those we love
best.”

“Yes, yes, I know it,” answered Roosje, with a little
sigh; “we have talked it all over a hundred times, and
have always resolved to stay and brave out all these perils
together. I could not bear to be parted from Lionel, and
I know well that he would not leave his post—belike it
would be wrong for him to dream of it at such a time of
danger. But my children, my little ones! When I think
of what I saw to-day—”

“Hush, daughter!” said Madam Wilford, half sternly,
half tenderly; “I would not have thee even think in such
THE COMING STRIFE. 89

a fashion. God is our refuge and strength, and He will
give us strength for what lies before us. The future is
His. With Him lies the fate of ourselves and of our
country. Let that be enough for us. Let us go on
from day to day, not forecasting the future, but bravely
facing the present. So alone can such times as these be
lived through; so alone must we try to live through
them.”

“Thou art right, my mother. We will have faith,”
answered Roogje, with a great effort after calmness; and
kissing her mother-in-law tenderly, she led her little ones
away to put them to bed, the fierce storm in her heart for
the time being quieted.

Yet every day as it passed brought its modicum of
excitement. Sometimes it was grain-boats really coming
in (for the traffic still continued, though the prices rose
with the peril), and bringing with them news of the world
without, and the progress of the Prince of Parma’s prepa-
rations for bridging the mighty river. Sometimes it was
news from Lillo, brought by Joris or Otto, who from their
great familiarity with the river and the city were not
unfrequently sent with despatches from Teligny to the
Burgomaster, telling of the preparations of the Spaniards
for a grand assault of the fortress, and of the courage and
resolution of the garrison to repel it. The Van der
Hammer brothers declared the place absolutely impreg-
nable, and said that Mondragon and Mansfield and Parma
himself might all coalesce together for its reduction with-
out making any impression. And that news was welcome
go THE COMING STRIFE.

enough to those in the city; for if Lillo were to fall their
case would be bad indeed.

Lionel, coming home from a walk about the city with a
friend, who had visited with him one of the few churches
where the Roman Catholic rites were permitted to be per-
formed (for his friend was a Romanist, like many in
Antwerp still), was aware of a great tumult going on in the
neighbourhood of his house, shouting, and erying, and
threatening voices all raised together ; and hurrying after
the scurrying and howling mob, he heard the words yelled
in every possible accent of rage and hatred,—

“Spanish spies! Spanish spies! Take them alive!
Serve them as they have served others !.”—“ Ay, ay ; they
shall taste what they have made others taste !”—‘“ Hack
them in pieces !”—“ Roast them alive!”—“Pull them in
pieces with horses!”—every savage suggestion being
greeted with a howl of approval from the maddened
crowd; and Lionel, suddenly drawing his sword and set-
ting his teeth hard, plunged through the throng, which
made way for him by instinct, and soon found himself
in the forefront of the commotion.
fort .
Hoboker £

VIRE-SHIP |}

way

BRABANT a oF | RO rie wan's envi, My
vy Bef a oh f [

3 or Victory



PLAN oF THE SIEGE OF ANTWERP,
(From an ad Dutch Print,
CHAPTER V.
IN PARMA’S CAMP.

’ ICTORY! victory! The doom of Antwerp is
V sealed !”

Two tall and stately youths, leaning over the battlements
of Fort St. Mary, and engrossed in conversation together,
turned quickly round at the sound of these triumphant
words, and found themselves face to face with one of their
own brothers-in-arms, who was waving his sword above his
head with a gesture of impetuous exultation.

“Nay, now, Diego; what meanest thou?” they asked,
almost in a breath. “Has the death of the Prince of
Orange brought the rebels to their senses? Methought it
had but hardened their hearts in their impious rebellion.”

“Ay, verily, so it has—dogs of heretics that they
are!” quoth the first speaker, a swarthy, muscular young
Spaniard of some five-and-twenty summers, with fierce,
flashing eyes, jet-black hair, and handsome, haughty
features of a pronounced aquiline type. “But the devil,
their master, is leading them a fine dance! They are
listening to his counsels with greedy ears, and shutting
their eyes fast to the net into which they are being drawn.
92 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

The holy saints and the Blessed Virgin are fighting for us.
They are like sheep led to the slaughter. Bah! how can
those low-bred burghers think for a moment to defy the
picked veterans of Spain, and led by such a general as
our Alexander? Madre de Dios! their mad folly is only
less than their wickedness.”

“Nay, but tell us what has chanced?” asked eagerly
the taller of the two companions who had been thus in-
terrupted in their talk. His face was more attractive
than that of the man he had addressed as Diego. It was
something of the same type, and was thoroughly Spanish
in colouring and general aspect; but the features were
more regular and more finely cut, and the reckless hardi-
hood—almost ferocity—of Diego’s countenance was not
reflected in that of his friend Rodrigo de Castro. He
looked every inch a soldier, but there was nothing brutal
in his aspect. It was easy to picture the one engaged in
scenes of outrage and carnage, loot and plunder; the other
one would rather picture in the battle-field alone, and
would not easily connect him with scenes of brutal re-
crimination.

Still less would the observer suspect his brother and
companion of the like fierce passions. Alphonso de Castro
had the face rather of the dreamer and thinker than of
the soldier, albeit the steadfast look of the eyes and the
firm set of the lips betokened a high courage and iron
resolution. Brought up, as were all noble Spanish youths,
to the profession of arms, and devoted, like all those
who served beneath him, to their great general, the Prince
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 93

of Parma, it had never occurred to Alphonso to be anything
but a soldier. At the same time, he had contrived to
retain much of his gentleness and refinement of mind in
his warlike profession; and even in the camp his spare
moments were often spent in poring over some small
volume carried in his pocket, or in metaphysical or theo-
logical discussion with some companion of a like thought-
ful turn. He had the same delicately-chiselled features as
his brother, but in colouring he was much fairer. His
eyes were a pencilled gray, that looked black in moments
of excitement, but that could be wonderfully soft and
expressive at other times, and were usually tranquil and
thoughtful in expression. His skin had none of the dark
swarthiness which was so common in the Spanish soldier,
exposed as he was to all the inclemencies of the weather,
but was wonderfully smooth and fair, slightly olive in tint,
but with a quick fluctuating colour which sometimes gave
rise amongst his companions to the nickname of the
“muchacha” (the girl). In figure he was slight, but tall
and wiry, very agile at all feats requiring quickness and
dexterity, and an excellent swordsman, though lacking in
the weight which gave the advantage in the field to some
of his companions. Diego de Escolano would have made
almost two of him; but for all that Alphonso was a very
excellent soldier, and had the gift of inspiring in the little
band of soldiers whom he habitually headed in action an
unbounded enthusiasm and devotion, which made them
ready for any service to which he might lead them.

Both brothers had their whole heart and soul in the
94 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

crusade (as it seemed to them) in which they were em-
barked on behalf of King and Church, and they eagerly
desired Diego to explain his words; for if Antwerp fell into
their hands once again, they fully believed, with the rest of
the world, that the whole country, including Holland and
Zeeland, would submit itself anew to the Spanish monarch.

“ Antwerp is as good as ours!” cried Diego once again,
raising his sword and flourishing it over his head. “ What
think ye of this, brothers in arms ?—the great Kowenstyn
Dike is ours !”

“ Pardiez! Sayest thou so?” cried Rodrigo, wheeling
round to look towards the great bulwark in question.
“The Kowenstyn ours—and without fighting, too! How
comes that, good Diego, and how knowest thou it?”

“T know it for that I was in attendance on the Prince
but two short hours ago, when the Lord of Kowenstyn
came to him, and offered for a price to place the whole of
the dike in his hands.”

“ Justo cielo! how the Saints fight for the righteous
cause!” cried Rodrigo eagerly. “Come now, good Diego;
tell us more. Wert thou present at the conference ?
Methought the grim Sieur of Kowenstyn was our deadly
foe. How has it come about that he has become our
friend all in a moment ?”

“That I can also explain in a few words,” replied the
Spaniard; “for, as you well know, our Prince has a won-
derful fashion of drawing out the confidence of all who
come to him. Seeing that this grim old lord was about
to protter friendship, our Alexander met him with every
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 95

courtesy, and at once granted him a private audience, only
some two or three of his gentlemen, of whom I was ‘one,
being admitted to the interview. When they commenced
to talk it was plain enough that the Prince had been
striving to open negotiations with the lord of the dike,
and that his overtures had not been without effect. But
the mischief for Antwerp was, as one might well guess,
done by theinselves ; for a month ago the Sieur of Kowen-
styn was on the side of the rebellious heretics.”

“ And what has passed to change him ?”

“Why, plainly the change in him has been wrought by
their own blind folly. And the death of the Prince of
Orange has finished the work their obstinate blindness
began. The great William had the sense to see that if
the dike were pierced there would be no siege of Antwerp;
and he sent urgent messages to the people to take this
step. The Sieur of Kowenstyn, who had received letters
himself from the Prince, went in person to the city to
urge upon the greasy burghers the step their Stadtholder
had proposed, but they would not listen either to the
one or the other. They thought they knew better than
either Prince or Lord, and it is plain they insulted the
grim old man who holds the key of the Kowenstyn, and
that he has been brooding over his wrongs ever since.
The news of the death of the one man in whom he trusted,
and the letters of our own general here, have done the rest.
Disgusted with the citizens of Antwerp, despairing of the
cause now that the head is gone, he has wisely resolved to
submit to his rightful sovereign. The Kowenstyn is ours,
96 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

Before many weeks have passed it will bristle with forts
from end to end. No cutting it through now, to bring the
sea to the walls of Antwerp, and destroy the labours of our
hands. The great dike is ours, and we can commence the
building of the bridge as soon as we please now; for our
work can no longer be rendered abortive by an act on the
part of the city. Their day has gone by now; our turn
is come !”

The eyes of the young men brightened. Their enthu-
siasm for their great general was unbounded. Alexander
Farnese, Prince of Parma, had won, as he deserved to win,
the enthusiastic love of his soldiers, and any undertaking
planned by him was always cheerfully and actively carried’
out by those beneath him. A valiant soldier, always in
the forefront of the battle, a man of learning and genius
and indomitable resolution such as could not fail to inspire
respect, thoughtful and even tender over his hard-worked
and ill-paid servants, he kept his soldiers together when
under another general they would have deserted by hun-
dreds and thousands. And in times when savage ferocity
was the order of the day, and excited neither reprobation
nor horror, he was studiously humane and gentle in his
dealings even with his foes, and never disgraced his laurels
by those scenes of atrocity which shed such a ghastly light
over the reign of his predecessor Alva. He had done more
in his short rule towards conciliating the Netherlands than
all his predecessors put together. Much of the fatal sub-
mission of opulent cities was traceable to the politic and
moderate spirit of Farnese. His name excited no shudder
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 97

in the breasts of the inhabitants, and his propositions were
always couched in conciliatory and even generous terms.
True, he never gave way one iota upon the point at issue.
Civil and religious liberty was never yielded by him; he
would have thought himself a traitor to his King and his
God had he dreamed of such concession. But he contrived
to make the reality of slavery wear such a gentle garb,
and he made such lenient-sounding terms for the rebellious
who would not submit—leaving them time to retire with
their goods from the submissive cities, instead of putting
them to the sword or throwing them into prison—that his
terms had been accepted again and again; and it was for
the future to show the fatal error into which the country
had fallen, that quietly submitted to the exile of its best
and wealthiest citizens, and the consequent deflection to
other and freer places of the trade which had made the
greatness and prosperity of the land.

Holland and Zeeland (if the death of their Prince did
not drive them to despair) might still be a hard nut to
crack, but upon the salvation or capture of Antwerp hung,
as it were, the fate of the whole of the lower Netherlands ;
and Parma was determined that the cause should not be
lost by any lack of zeal and exercise of ingenuity on
his part. His whole soul was in the task. His loyalty
to his King and to the cause of religion was bound up in
the struggle; his patriotism and his conscience were at
one; and those who followed him were infected by his
spirit of devotion. These ignorant traders, who were

setting themselves up to contemn the religion of the
(444) 7
98 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

whole civilized world, and professed themselves wiser and
better than the Church, seemed to the Spaniards (reared in
orthodox bigotry) to be little better than fiends incarnate,
doing the work of their master the devil in striving to
overthrow the divine government of Christ's Church. The
mad fury of the Iconoclasts, the insane blasphemy of
certain ignorant men who would spit upon and trample
under foot the consecrated bread, in the belief that they
were trampling upon idolatry, not unnaturally gave colour
to innumerable false and exaggerated ideas about the
reformed tenets. There is no cause, however pure, that is
not sullied by the folly and the blindness of its ignorant
advocates; and nowhere was this better exemplified than
in the struggle for religious liberty in the sixteenth cen-
tury. To the devout if bigoted Spaniard, brought up in
a blind and absolute faith in the sanctity of his Church
_and the truth of all its teachings, this independence of
thought was like nothing but the work of the devil, striving
to subvert the doctrines of God. To put down by every
means the spread of this disease was not only politic, but
an actual religious duty. The soldier bent on loot and
rapine believed he was doing God direct service by every
act of violence he performed. He was just as much in
earnest on his side as the persecuted Calvinist or Lutheran
on his. Each was absolutely convinced of the righteous-
ness of his cause, and so fought with the desperate valour
that comes to those who believe that Heaven fights with
and for them.

But the personal popularity of Alexander of Parma
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 99

went a long way with his own troops. As they stood |
talking together, these noble Spanish youths betrayed by
every word they spoke, every opinion they uttered, how
full of enthusiasm they were for their general.

As they thus stood talking they were joined by another
comrade, Carlos de Cueva; a very Saul amongst them, for
he stood a head taller than the tallest, and was magni-
ficently accoutred, being, in fact, a scion of one of the
noblest houses of Spain. Between him and the De Castro
brothers a very close and warm friendship existed; and
from the fact that Diego had grown up from boyhood with
the two latter, he was admitted to the rank of a comrade
of theirs, albeit not altogether congenial in disposition or
character. These young officers each had a band of soldiers
over whom they exercised control and oversight. Carlos,
indeed, had furnished his band, and paid them out of his
own almost boundless resources, and he had many times
made advances to his general from his own well-filled
coffers. He, too, had been present at the conference with
the Sieur of Kowenstyn, and his face was smiling as he
came towards his friends.

“Has Diego been beforehand with the news?” he asked
as he drew near. “Methinks the fate of Antwerp is surely
sealed now. That our Alexander can build his bridge, if
he has the mind to, I have never doubted. Our reluctance
to begin the actual toil has been the fear that so soon as
it had become evident that the work would be seriously
undertaken, the dike would be cut through, and the whole
plan rendered abortive. Now that we have command of
100 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

_the Kowenstyn, the good citizens of Antwerp may gibe and
jeer or wring their hands in despair, according as it takes
them. At least they cannot roll the salt waves of the
ocean up to the walls of Antwerp. Messengers have al-
ready gone forth to Mondragon and Mansfield. Marquis
Richebourg is with the General, speaking of matters con-
cerning the bridge. Grass will no longer grow under our
feet. If we are to build, let it be done before the winter
storms and ice-floes come down to stop us. We are no
longer in sunny Spain. We must remember the severities
of this cold northern winter, and act accordingly.”

“Hurrah for the bridge and for Parma!” cried Diego,
in an access of wild delight, as he brandished his sword in
the direction of the distant city. “Hurrah for the day of
vengeance, when another Spanish Fury shall be poured out
upon Antwerp, when our swords shall be dyed red with
the blood of women and children, and our coffers filled
with the gold of —”

“Peace, Diego!” cried Alphonso, with sudden energy,
his eyes dilating as he spoke. “A truce to such coward
words and thoughts. Dost thou wage war with women
and children? Is thy sword dedicated to no nobler use
than the murder of unresisting babes? Shame upon thee
for such words!”

Diego had turned very red, and now advanced upon Al-
phonso with threatening mien, his sword shining in his hand.

“No one ever called me coward who did not take back
the word at the sword’s point, Alphonso de Castro,” he
cried, a red light leaping into his eyes as he spoke.
IN PARMA’S CAMP. IOI

But Alphonso never moved, save to throw back his head
a little more; and gazing full into the eyes of his passion-
ate comrade, he replied fearlessly,—

“T will not take it back, not even at the sword’s point,
till thou hast taken back thine own evil words, Diego.
Are we men, or are we brute beasts? Do we wage war
with men, or do we prefer to wreak a coward vengeance
upon those who never held a sword, and are as sheep in
the shambles? Think, good Diego, what thy words mean,
and thou wilt surely take them back of thine own accord.”

“ Heretic spawn! it were a righteous act to slay them!
Are we not bidden to strike at all alike, root and branch ?”
grumbled Diego sulkily, not desirous of quarrelling with
his companions, and yet by no means of the same way of
thinking as Alphonso, who generally won the other two
over to his side of an argument. “As though I should
ever do a deed unworthy of my name or calling !”

“ Boast not too soon of that, Diego,” said Carlos, rather
curtly. “It seems as though there were plenty of the
savage in thee yet. Alphonso is right. Let the usages of
war. be never so fierce, it is a coward act for men to redden
their blades on the bodies of hapless women and children.
Methinks there has been something too much of this same
coward-cruelty in the Spanish ranks. But our great
general will not give his captured cities over to butchery,
as the Duke of Alva was pleased to do. Wherefore, my
good fellow, spend thy strength in fighting with men, for
I doubt me much if thy sword will be required for the
congenial and soldier-like task of butchering women, for
102 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

the which thou seemest to crave.” There was something
so quietly contemptuous in the tone of the rebuke, that
Diego turned away and marched off, muttering oaths under
his breath; for he did not wish to quarrel with the young
Count of Cueva, and he felt that he might, if he re-
mained, speak words which would inevitably lead to a
quarrel, perhaps at the sword’s point.

“That fellow should have been with Alva,” remarked
Carlos, as the heavy figure disappeared down the battle-
ments; “he is just such a tool as the Duke would have
loved to use. Our Prince covets not such bloodthirsty fol-
lowers. And there will be no second ‘Spanish Fury’
permitted when Antwerp falls into our hands.”

“I trow not,” answered Rodrigo. “Our Alexander
knows how much better it is to conciliate than to exas-
perate the people of the land, and has proved his point
in a hundred different ways. Thou thinkest Antwerp will
surely fall, Carlos? Yet it will be a tough nut to crack.”

“Capita! None too hard for our Alexander; of that I
am very sure. I wonder what the citizens are feeling, if
the news has yet reached them. To think that they might
have been masters of the dike themselves, and to let it all
pass into the hands of the beleaguering foe! Methinks the
great Sainte Aldegonde must sure be sleeping. Time was
when he would scarce have committed such folly.”

“I marvel that they be so blind; but they say the
city is very turbulent, and that it is ruled by fat, greasy
burghers, who know naught of warfare.”

“The burghers have shown themselves excellent good
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 103

soldiers many times,” remarked Alphonso, smiling thought-
fully as he looked out towards the city, the spires of which
they could just see gleaming in the evening light. “I
would I knew what was passing within those walls. I
would I could hear what the men there were saying one to
another. I would fain take a skiff and drift up with the
tide to the quays there, and wander about the city to hear
what the people said one to another. I can understand
their tongue with case now. It would just please my
fantasy to listen to the talk they hold with each other,
and hear all that is spoken about us and this bridge, and
whether they know what they have suffered in the loss of
the great dike.”

Carlos smiled at the notion, but it caught his fancy
too. Just now there was but little stir in Parma’s camp.
Mondragon was threatening Lillo, but no open attack had
yet been made. The triumph at Liefkenshock had put
the whole army into a jubilant frame of mind, and this
fresh piece of news seemed to promise easy victory to their:
arms.

“A Spaniard in Antwerp, boy! How long dost thou
think thou couldst prowl those streets without being run
through the body by fifty swords? How much dost thou
think thou couldst hear of the burgher talk? - Dost think
they take every foreigner into their counsels, or would
shout their opinions from the house-tops ?”

“Nay, verily; I am not a child,” answered Alphonso,
smiling. “Nor would I run into bootless peril. If I went
at all, I would go well disguised.”
104 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

“ Disguised ! how disguised ?”

“That is easily said. I would make a raid upon a
grain-boat going up the river to the city, and would get
it into mine own hands. Then I would send its own
crew back whence they came, but keep their outer gar-
ments; and dressing myself like a Zeeland skipper, I
would bring my boat into the city at dusk, and wander
about there at will, till I had satisfied my curiosity, and
had seen what manner of place Antwerp is. We could
take one of our Dutch soldiers to do the chaffering and
bartering at the quay-side whilst we wandered through the
city—whilst I did, I mean; for I know not if any other
shares my curiosity, or would care to adventure himself
within the hostile walls.”

“Tf thou goest, I go too,” said Rodrigo quickly. “ But
I know not if thou art serious in what thou sayest.
Wherefore shouldst thou adventure thyself thus? Yet
the thought is something attractive. How came it into
thine head ?”

“T scarce know,” answered Alphonso, smiling thought-
fully. “Methinks some such schemes are always ready
to present themselves to us sons of Spain when there be
no fighting on hand to employ our energies.”

“There be some truth in that,” answered Carlos, smiling.
“To be doing and daring is the very life of the Spanish
soldier. I verily believe I will go with thee—Rodrigo, is
it a mad enterprise, or no? Thou hast the steadiest head
of the three of us.”

“JT will answer that question anon, when I have better
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 105

considered it,” answered the elder De Castro as he turned
away to descend the stairs. “At present duty calls me to
my men below. I will think more of it when I have more
leisure.”

Carlos, thus left alone with Alphonso upon the battle-
ments of the fort, looked smilingly into the face of the
young man, and said,—

“What is in thy mind, amigo mio? There is some-
what behind all this; think not to hide it from me.”

Alphonso regarded his friend with a meditative smile.

“Thou hast a marvellous gift of reading my thoughts,
Carlos; and yet I scarce know how to put them into
words. I frankly own I am often assailed by a great
curiosity ; yet I sometimes wonder whether such curiosity
may not be sin.”

“Sin? How so? What is this curiosity of which
thou speakest ?”

“Truly neither more nor less than to understand what
manner of temptation it can be which blinds men’s eyes
to the truth, and leads them to dare everything and suffer
everything for some hideous fantasy dangled before their
eyes by the father of lies himself. As I take my watch
here at nights, and think of all this long twenty years’
struggle and the “horrors which have overwhelmed the
wretched people of this land, I marvel till I know not
how to contain my wonder that these things can be. It
may be folly—it may even be sin—on my part to desire to
understand better what monstrous delusion is working in
their minds, but that I do desire a better comprehension
106 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

of it I may not deny. Carlos, when our holy Church
gives everything that the soul of man can desire—absolu-
tion for sin, peace and guidance to the erring, the Blessed
Sacrament to give us strength and support, prayer and
praise continually offered on behalf of all by a holy and
separated priesthood; when we have here on earth the
most solemn and beautiful worship that heart of man can
conceive, and in the heaven above the Blessed Mother of
‘our Lord and the holy saints ever interceding for us be-
fore the Throne of God, what more would they have ?
What can they ask or want that the Church cannot be-
stow? It is a thing that passes comprehension. It seems
to me as though, could one but get face to face with
them, one must be able to show them the blind error of
their ways. And yet it can scarce be so, seeing that a
generation has well-nigh been swept away by fire and
sword, and still they go on in their obstinate blindness
and ignorance. Yet, Carlos, all these men cannot be vile
and wicked, nor yet fools and hypocrites. None can use
such words respecting the Prince so lately dead. And he
was one of this way of thinking.”

“In his case it might well have been ambition,’ an-
swered Carlos. “He would never have risen to the place
he held had he not embraced the heresy®of these rebellious
burghers. For my own part, the delusions of heretics
interest me not. From the beginning of the world we
have always seen that men will turn away from the ordi-
nances of God to walk in their own sinful lusts. It is
just so with yon heretics there. They are setting them-
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 107

selves up to teach God. Tush, Alphonso! they do not
merit the thought thou givest them. They are fit food
for the sword and the faggot. They have sold themselves
to their father, the devil. Let them reap the wages he
has for all his servants both in this life and in the world
to come !”

“If it were only that they rebelled against the estab-
lishment of the Inquisition upon their soil, one could better
understand it,” remarked Alphonso, after a brief pause,
unable to dismiss the matter from his thoughts in such
summary fashion. “There be many of us loyal sons of the
Church who love not the—”

“ Hist, Alphonso! have a care what thou sayest!” ex-
claimed Carlos, with a quick look round him, the instinct
of a fear which was ever present to the sons of a soil
where the “Holy Office” lived and flourished being for
the moment stronger than reason and common-sense.
Here in Parma’s camp, in the midst of a semi-hostile
country, they were free from the espionage of priestly spies ;
but so many orthodox sons of the Church had been mys-
teriously haled off to the dungeons of the Inquisition,
whence they had never returned, that none might feel
himself altogether safe; and men who had never flinched
before the deadliest perils of war turned pale with appre-
hension at the approach of the black-robed alguazils of the
Inquisition. “Have a care what thou sayest, boy! Why,
even here—” He stopped short and smiled, partly at his
own nervousness, partly at the expression upon the face of
his companion.
108 IN PARMA’S CAMP.

“ Here, methinks, we are safe, and may speak as man
to man, amigo mio,” said Alphonso, with a peculiar
expression on his thoughtful countenance. “The Holy
Office has been swept away from these lands, though men
say it will soon be re-established here. It is just that
which is the trouble and the puzzle, Carlos. The Holy
Church is of God. When men resist her, they resist Him
also. But the ‘ Holy Office, as we are taught to call it,
is that of God too? Is it possible that our Father in
heaven has devised that likewise? And if not, are these
heretics so very wrong in resisting it to the death ?”

_ “Have a care, man, have a care of thy words and thy
thoughts,” cried Carlos again, with a look of anxiety upon
his face that would have been ludicrous in so stalwart a
soldier had it not been in effect so unspeakably sad. “ It
boots not to utter such words; nay, it were better not to
think such thoughts. Why, man, in Madrid and Seville
men have been sent to the rack and the stake for as little
as thou hast spoken to-day. True, for the present moment
we may be safe, but there is no knowing what breeze of
heaven may carry a whisper to some holy father; and
years later it may be remembered against thee. Believe
me, amigo mio, it is not safe to toy with thought. It is
not safe to begin to play with edged tools. Let the priests
keep our consciences-—so they will be safe; but to think
for ourselves, to reason whether this or that be of God,
smatters fearfully of heresy. It is not good, it is not
wise even to dally with such thoughts in one’s heart.
That is how all heresy begins—men striving to settle for
IN PARMA’S CAMP. 109

themselves hard questions they should leave to their
spiritual fathers. It is the devil who prompts such
thoughts, and if one has been harboured, it is ever fol-
lowed by a crowd of successors; and where the end of
that man will be, it boots not to ask. You and I are
soldiers. We have our own duties to do; and so long as
we confess as occasion serves, and attend our daily mass,
we have no call to trouble our heads with aught else.
Thou art something too curious, Alphonso. I have chidden
thee before now for this same fault. It boots not in
these days to think overmuch. It is ours to act. Let
us leave the thinking to others, for—pardiez !—it always
seems to lead to trouble.”

Alphonso regarded his stalwart companion with a medi-
tative smile that was one of neither assent nor satisfaction.
yet expressed no opposition to advice which was un-
doubtedly sound. 1t was not the first recommendation of
the kind which had been given him either by his brother
or by the young Count of Cueva. Indeed, one of the
things which were dwelling with persistent iteration in his
mind just now was the peril which, amongst his own
countrymen and those of the faith he held so dear, was
said to attend the free exercise of thought.

Alphonso had mot long emerged from the College at
Salamanca, where he had received a very sound and liberal
education for the times in which he lived, where thought
in all other fields save that of religion had been freely
encouraged, and where he had not realized the fact that
in the paths of religion he had not been encouraged or
IIo IN PARMA’S CAMP.

permitted to think for himself. He had accepted teaching
readily, and assimilated it rapidly; for his was a devout
cast of mind, and hereditary reverence for the ancient
forms was as strong with him as with the majority of his
countrymen. When he had finished his course of studies,
he joined his brother in the Netherlands, but brought
with him into the camp his love of study and of analytical
thought. Brought face to face in this way with the burn-
ing questions of the day, and with his keen wits greatly
stirred by everything he saw and heard, it had been im-
possible for him not to be greatly moved by all that had
been told him of this great struggle; and strive as he would
against the feeling, he had been unable to withhold a cer-
tain amount of admiration for the men who had made such
a stand against the institution of the Inquisition upon
their soil.

With their rebellion against their monarch and with
their heretical views Alphonso had no manner of sym-
pathy; but in his heart of hearts he loathed the “ Holy
Office,” as did also hundreds and thousands of his country-
men, though fear held them mute and passive. He had
heard it often said that if Philip of Spain would pledge
himself that there should be no Inquisition in the Nether-
lands, the people would return to their old submission.
If that indeed were so, he could not but feel that they
had no small show of right and justice on their side ; and
although, as one of Parma’s soldiers, he would fight his
utmost against the rebel host, he could not but feel a
growing desire to understand better the motives that actu-
IN PARMA’S CAMP. IIr

ated them, and to learn from themselves something of the
spirit which had been at the root of this twenty years’
war. The people would not have suffered as they had done
had not the cause commended itself to them as righteous.
Alphonso was curious to know how it looked from their
standpoint, and knew as little of the danger of his curi-
osity as of the speedy way in which his wish was to be
accomplished.

But for the moment he was silenced, knowing that
Carlos spoke wisely, according to his own light, and feeling
that the counsel of his more experienced friend deserved
attention. :

“He is right to warn me,” thought the young man, as
he turned his face towards the city of Antwerp again.
“It is dangerous to utter such words, I verily believe.
Strange that the heretics have one such solid advantage
over us! They, at least, are allowed to think for them-
selves. It is we who must hold our very thoughts in
check lest they savour of the devil. I wonder which is
the wiser way in the sight of God.”
CHAPTER VIL
INTO THE CITY.

= HAME upon thee, Diego! shame upon thee !”

S The swarthy Spaniard turned upon Alphonso
with a laugh of savage glee. His hands as well as his
sword were reeking with blood. Near at hand stood a
score of Spanish soldiers, laughing also, and gory like their
captain. They were looking at certain boats drifting to-
wards the city, but proceeding thither simply by the action
of the tide, and through no effort on the part of the crew,
albeit it could just be seen that they were not empty.

Alphonso had surprised this little party at their sport,
and now stood by the river-brink, his eyes scintillating
with anger and scorn.

“You shame your manhood by acts like these!” he
cried, addressing the soldiers, who were leisurely wiping
their swords. “You sully the honour of the Spanish
arms. In days to come, when these deeds are read, all
the world will hold the name of Spain in execration, if
these be her acts in warfare.”

The men looked half indignant and half ashamed, but

the careless mockery in Diego’s eyes was unchanged.
INTO THE CITY. 113

“ Peace, foolish boy; make not thyself into a woman!”
he said, with an assumption of contempt which perhaps he
scarcely felt; for Alphonso’s gallantry in action had been
put to the proof times without number, and was absolutely
incontestable. “Are we to stand by and see yon stubborn
city victualled before our very eyes, whilst we are building
our bridge to seal up the mouth of the river ?”

“Nay; I said not so. Fall upon the provision-boats,
and divert their stores into our magazines. But to what
end are these cruelties inflicted on hapless prisoners ?
Some day it may be our turn to be prisoners in the hands
of our foes. Wouldst like to think of being hacked and
slashed in like fashion thyself ?”

Diego shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“They probably will not ask me to choose my fate, if
such ill chance befall me. But I misdoubt me whether it
will ever be my fate to fall alive into the hands of the
foe. I will die sword in hand first. Those beggarly
burghers will prove no match for Diego de Escolano !”

Alphonso smiled slightly at the proud boast.

“Better men than thou or I have fallen into the hands
of those same burghers ere now,” he remarked; and then
his face grew stern again as he looked once more in the
direction of the city. “And if this is a sample of how the
Prince of Parma’s soldiers serve hapless men—ay, and
women and children—what right have we to expect any-
thing but a hideous death if it should be our fate to
become prisoners in our turn ?”

“The chances of war must be risked,” said Diego care-
(444) 8
114 INTO THE CITY.

lessly. “I trow I can die as boldly as another man when
my turn comes.”

“ Belike thou canst; but when my turn comes to die, I
would fain that death should find me with hands un-
stained by wanton cruelty; for I hold it no better than
cowardice to inflict purposeless suffering on hapless pris-
oners who cannot defend themselves. Yea, thou dost
colour at the words; thou dost not love to hear thyself
dubbed coward. But I will not take it back. I trow
when thou art thy better self thou wilt blush for what
thou hast seen and done to-day.”

Diego’s face, dark for a moment, quickly relaxed into
a mocking smile. Fierce, cruel, and reckless by nature,
as the life he had led had helped to make him, he had a
good side to his nature too; and one of his best traits
was an exceeding fondness for Alphonso, albeit the two
fell out so constantly that many of their acquaintances
prophesied that there would be blood shed between them
before they had done with one another. The friendship
which had existed from boyhood had taught them a
freedom of speech with each other which is seldom after-
wards acquired. In battle they had stood shoulder to
shoulder, and had done one another many a good turn in
the heat and stress of the fight. But their characters and
disposition were widely diverse, and differences were con-
tinually arising between them.

“Tush, boy! thou art half a woman, for all thy
strong right arm and thy courage in battle. It is thou
who wilt come to blush one day for thy squeamishness!
INTO THE CITY. 15

What are these dogs of heretics to thee, that thou shouldest
stand forth their champion? They are but receiving here
a foretaste of what will be theirs to all eternity in a few
short hours. Thy compassion is ill-placed. Had we de-
spatched them, the devils would already have them in their
clutches ; they are better off as they are even with an arm
or a leg missing. Save thy compassion for good sons of
the Church. If thou hast not a care, thy priest will have
cause to fear that thou thyself dost smell of heresy.”

And Diego turned on his heel and marched off, leaving
Alphonso standing at the water’s edge alone.

“Dreaming again! and with a marvellous solemn
face to boot! What now, Alphonso? Art still desiring
to go visit yon heretic city? Hast thou not heard the
good news? We have captured a whole cargo of corn
and other provisions on its way to Antwerp. We shall
fare better for the next few weeks than we have done of
late.”

For, although this fact was not well known to the
enemy, the Spaniards were very imperfectly supplied with
provisions or with money; and their great general was
often in a sore strait to know how to keep his gallant
little army together, and supply them with the necessaries
of life.

“Yes, I have heard of that. Iam glad enough of the
food for our brave fellows, but I would that Diego had
had no hand in the capture. His savage nature breaks
forth within him when he has prisoners in his power.
I loathe to think how he treats them!” And Alphonso
116 INTO THE CITY.

related how the hapless Zeelanders had been served by
their countrymen.

Carlos listened with an air of mingled sa ttiecenes and
disgust.

“ Coward-cruelty in very sooth!” he answered; “and
yet what would you have? Our fellows are brought up
to war and butchery, and blood is no more to them than
water. Would they be, as they are, the finest soldiers in
Europe but for this strain of savagery in them? J- mis-
doubt me if they would. Thou art something too fine a
tool for this sort of warfare, Alphonso. Thy place is in
the battle and in the council-chamber; but for the inter-
ludes of war thou hast little stomach. I will not say that
thou art not in the right of it, but thou wilt never make
others see as thou dost; and we want our Diegos in the
camp as well as our more gentle Alphonsos.”

“ Diego is a brave fellow; I mean naught against him,”
said Alphonso quickly. “But methinks that we captains
and officers should show to our men an example of merciful
clemency towards the captives that fall into our hands.
They are all too prone to cruelty themselves, without our
setting the example.”

“T deny it not,” answered Carlos, in the same semi-
careless fashion, as though the matter were one beyond
his power to amend, and therefore of no strong personal
interest to him. “ But whilst human nature is what it is,
thou wilt find it hard to get matters set to thy liking.
Methinks we have all something of the savage in us at
times. I know I feel it rising ever and anon within me—
INTO THE CITY. 117

a demon of cruelty and ferocity which makes me loath to
condemn others too quickly.”

“Yet methinks our foes are less savage than we,” said
Alphonso thoughtfully, “though they have more cause,
seeing how they have been served by us.”

“T know not that,” answered Carlos. “Thou hast heard,
doubtless, how they did to death the man who slew the
Prince of Orange. Have the annals of Spain any more
savage record than that to show ?”

“The provocation was sore,” answered Alphonso. “In
losing their Prince they doubtless felt they had well-nigh
lost the cause which has cost them untold money and lives.
One can scarce marvel at that outbreak of savage fury
towards his assassin; yet I still maintain my point. I do
not believe that those who have embraced the reformed
faith, as they term it—have become traitors to his Majesty,
and have apostatized from the Church—are as cruel in
their dealings with their fellow-men as we sons of Spain.
And I sometimes marvel why this is so. I would it were
the other way. To my thinking, there is something more
Godlike and more Christlike in tenderness and mercy than
in the rack and the stake.”

“Hist, Alphonso! Boy, thou art too careless in what
thou sayest!” was the quick response. “I have told thee
so a hundred times before. With me thou art safe; but I
warn thee it is not good to let the fancy wander thus, nor
to put such thoughts into words. Be content to fight, my
friend, and leave the thinking to the priests and those who
can understand such matters. Believe me, they are not
118 INTO THE CITY.

subjects for thee to dabble in. Harm is sure to come of it
if thou dost.”

A dozen times of late had just such a similar warning
fallen on Alphonso’s ears. He was getting weary of the
sound of it. Thought, he found, would not be chained
and bound. Problems and perplexities were rising up
daily before him; and yet whenever he ventured to hint
at even the outer shell of the difficulty to some brother or
friend, he was promptly pulled up with an anxious word
of warning and rebuke. And the gist of it all was that
it was not safe to reason or to think; such thinking and
reasoning smacked far too much of heresy, and had been
the first step in the fall of many into that deadly pitfall.
Once and again had the hideous idea suggested itself to
Alphonso that if thought were permitted to heretics, then
heretics had the best of it. He had shivered and crossed
himself even as the notion presented itself. It seemed to
him like a whisper direct from the devil. And he dared
not even breathe it in the confessional. He knew that
men had been sent to the dungeons of the Inquisition for
less. For the first time in his life, he had a secret sin
unconfessed and unshriven. Sometimes he thought it
must be a sign of God’s anger against him that he could
not shake off these troubling and haunting thoughts and
questions.

His desire to know more and to hear more on the other
side grew sensibly upon him, and his fancy for a secret
visit to the city of Antwerp had not been forgotten. The
notion had been taken up also by some of his comrades.
INTO THE CITY. 11g

It was just such a daring, hazardous adventure as was
likely to tempt the bold spirits of Parma’s little band of
youthful leaders. To wander disguised through the streets
of the beleaguered city, to pick up scraps of information
which might be useful to their general, and to see and hear
for themselves what was going on there, would be an under-
taking of peril and of glory if once successfully achieved.
The four comrades who had spoken of it were all good
linguists, and spoke the language of the country with ease.
French was to them almost as familiar as their mother
tongue. And they resolved to pass along the streets in the
disguise of Zeeland pilots; but if addressed, to use the
French language. For the French alliance was high in
favour in Antwerp, and Frenchmen were regarded with
affection and confidence.

The summer days were beginning to wane, and yet the
nights were warm and clear. If they could bring into the
city at dusk a boat laden with grain, they reckoned that
they could dispose of their load at the quays without
betraying themselves, prowl about the city for some hours,
and return before daylight to the camp. Their plans were
arranged with some care; and all that remained to do was
to capture an isolated boat, kill the crew and take their
garments, and pilot it up to the city themselves.

Diego volunteered for this task, and kept a sharp look-
out upon the river. Accordingly, one day, about an hour
before sunset, a message was brought to the tent of the
two brothers bidding them to a certain spot at the river's
brink, near to which Diego’s quarters were situated.
120 INTO THE CITY.

“He has got the boat!” cried Rodrigo, starting up and
girding on his sword. “We are to have our night's
adventure at last. Come, Alphonso! This is thine ex-
pedition in very truth, for it was thy quick wits which
first jumped at the notion. Marry, I shall be glad of any
adventure that shall serve to break the long monotony of
this siege, which has scarce begun to be called by the
name, and which will cost us dear, I trow, before it is
done.”

Alphonso was also quickly accoutring himself. His
face had lighted at sound of the message. He had a
strange eagerness to see the city, which, in spite of the
death of the Prince of Orange, and the fall and defection
of one after another sister cities, was still hurling defiance
at Parma, and vowing destruction sooner than surrender.
He had thought of this secret visit until the notion had
fired his brain completely. He little guessed what would
be the end of the adventure, nor how long a time he was
destined to spend within those city walls.

Down to the river’s bank sped the two brothers, to find
Carlos and Diego there before them. It was at a lonely
little landing-place some way above the camp that a boat
lay moored. ‘Two or three soldiers were in charge of it,
and in the bow, half scowling, but altogether cowed and
submissive, sat an old weather-beaten Zeelander, anxiously
watching the faces of those around him. There were
traces which told that blood had been spilt on this spot
not long before; and Alphonso shuddered a little as he
quickly donned the rough dress allotted to him, realizing
INTO THE CITY. 12

that its owner had been slain in order to furnish him with
it. Had he been there he would have saved the lives of
the crew, and sent them away unharmed; but such notions
of clemency were utterly foreign to the mind of the
Spanish soldier; and what wonder, when he was taught
by his priest that every heretic slain by his hand took off
a year from the time he himself was destined to spend in
the fires of purgatory ?

The rest of the party were conversing eagerly together.

“T should kill him,” said Diego. “Dumb or not dumb,
he might betray us if we take him with us.”

“He has sworn not to do so,” said Carlos, “and I think
he is too much frightened to break his word. We run a
great danger if we have to do the selling of the grain our-
selves, We know nothing of their methods of dealing.
We may betray ourselves in a hundred ways. This fellow
is no doubt well known in the city. I make no question
it is our fellows who have cut out his tongue not long
since, for the wound is barely healed. We can leave him
to see to the sale of the grain, and slip off ourselves in the
dusk. No one will have paid special heed to us; and
though this fellow may try to make them understand
afterwards, I misdoubt me if he will succeed. He will
have a wholesome fear of’ drawing down a worse thing
upon himself, and he could not possibly describe us. I do
not believe he could make anybody in the city understand
what he meant. He is not a native; he is but a Zee-
lander, and he is only lately made dumb. He cannot have
learned to make others readily understand him. I think
122 INTO THE CITY.

the risk of taking will be less than the risk of going
without him.”

There was some little discussion on this point, but in
the end the advice of Carlos prevailed. All the four
youths saw that to attempt to carry on the traffic them-
selves would expose them to peril; whilst if they left it
to the old Zeelander, no surprise would be raised. They
would make a pretence for a few moments of being busy
about the cargo; but they would quickly slip off in the
darkness—for they did not intend to reach the city till it
was dark—and it was not likely their movement would
arouse suspicion on the part of those about. Their dress
and their: manner of entrance would protect them ; and the
old mute would find it difficult to make anybody under-
stand him, even did he try to tell his tale.

If by any chance they discovered when they wished to
return that the boat was watched, they could devise escape
by some other means. Fear was unknown to any of
them; and all were hardy and expert swimmers. If the
worst came to the worst, they could dive into the river
and swim down with the retiring tide, which ran out very
strong at the ebb. They would but have to keep them-
selves afloat; the current would do all the rest.

The old man could understand what was spoken to him,
. though he could reply only by signs. In the most solemn
way he intimated that he would hold his peace if his life
were spared. He undertook to do the bidding of his
captors, and not try to draw attention to them; and the
fact that any of them could strike or shoot him dead at a
INTO THE CITY. 123

moment’s notice was a possible inducement to him to keep
faith. Of course when he once got into the city and was
surrounded by friends, he might feel differently ; but then,
as Carlos observed, he was plainly a regular Zeeland
skipper, and probably made his living by bringing grain-
boats into Antwerp. He would very well know that
if he betrayed trust, and if these young Spanish captains
did not return from the city safe and sound, he would be
mercilessly watched for by the soldiers all along the banks;
and if once he fell into their hands, he would certainly be
put to death with every refinement of cruelty that sug-
gested itself to them. Indeed, the soldiers had openly
warned him of this; and therefore his silent protestations
of good faith were held to be of some possible value.

The sun was just dipping behind the low-lying clouds
which hid the horizon as the boat put off with its five
passengers, who looked wonderfully like the rough Zeeland
fishermen they professed to be. Diego’s swarthy face,
with the week’s growth of beard he had allowed to grow
there in prospect of this expedition, was in wonderful
harmony with his rough dress; and the other three wore
their hats low down over their eyes, and pulled up the
collars of their rough tunics, so as to hide their faces with
tolerable success. The light was fading fast as the boat
cut its way through the water, and though it was fired on
from time to time as it ran beneath one of the hostile forts,
no concerted attack was made upon it—a solitary sloop
scarcely merited that effort—and it passed on its way un-
scathed.
124 INTO THE CITY.

And now the towers and spires of the city began to
loom up against the darkening sky; and here and there
lights shone out, showing that the day was done indeed,
and that the streets would be more or less deserted.

As they glided past the partially ruined and dismantled
citadel, they were challenged by the guard; but the old
man in the bow uttered a strange cry, and the boat was
allowed to proceed unmolested on its way. The Zeeland
boats were well known in Antwerp, and were received
with eager gladness.

A little further on the old man made signs to run the
boat into a narrow aperture, and by gestures counselled his
captors to disembark there. All was intensely still. They
ran no danger of being seen by prying eyes. It was
absolutely dark in the little creek, though there was a
regular landing-place, led down to by steps from some
upper level, and it was plainly a place where boats were
accustomed to come in.

“We may just as well risk it here as elsewhere,” said
Carlos, who had unconsciously taken command of the
expedition, as he was wont to do. “All seems quiet and
secure. And if we be seen emerging into the streets, our
dress will deceive all who see us. Come, let us delay no
longer. Ye have all your arms safe about you?”

One by one they stepped ashore, and the old man pushed
off the boat with a silent nod, as Carlos in low tones in-
structed him to meet them at the same spot some few
hours later, after he had disembarked his store. The
creek where they had landed was a little above the frown-
INTO THE CITY. . 125

ing walls of the citadel, and close to the Bastion of St.
Michael. They heard the measured tread of sentries, and
their voices close at hand; but creeping along the narrow
lane in which they found themselves, they soon lost these
sounds in the distance, and emerged into the more wide
and open streets where a few foot-passengers were to be
seen moving to and fro about their business.

The aspect of the city was peaceful enough now. The
moon was rising and giving sufficiency of light, and from
many an uncurtained window a broad shaft of light fell
athwart the duskiness of the outside world, and showed a
glimpse of a warm and picturesque interior, upon which
the sons of the camp looked with curiosity not unmixed
with envy.

“ Better off are the besieged than the besiegers,” said
Carlos, with a laugh. “They seem in marvellous happy
and peaceful mood. Those well-spread tables speak not:
of poverty or starvation. We fare far worse in the camp.
I wonder what they would think, those honest burgher
folk, if they knew that their foes were quietly watching
them without !”

“Dogs of heretics—greasy burghers! Would they
were all in our clutches!” muttered Diego fiercely between
his shut teeth. “What have we here? An open square
and a great church. Ah, that will be the church of Our
Lady, that those pestilent and blasphemous heretics so
maltreated years ago—vile scum of a vile nation! The
sons of the Church must never forget that sin against
them !”
126 INTO THE CITY.

“There is yet another church over yonder,” said Al-
phonso. “Methinks there is service going on. I would
. fain go and see. It looks to me as though it might be
one of our churches. See the crucifix without, and the
image of our Blessed Mother of God. Let me go and see.”

“Do so, an thou wilt; Rodrigo and I will make our
tour of the fortifications, and mark those things the Prince
most wished to know. It were better not to keep all
together. We shall attract less observation in couples.
Thou hast come to see the people; we the place. Have a
care to thyself, Alphonso; and be at the trysting-place in
good time. Let not thy face be too much seen; as for
our dress, no man heeds it. We are safe enough so long
as we attract the notice of none.”

“ Good,” answered Alphonso, who was ready enough to
be left to follow his own fancies. “I will not fail you at
the turn of the tide. J have marked well the way, and
can find the place again. Fare you well till we meet
again.” And so saying, the young man passed on his way
towards the lighted church.

“Ts it safe to leave him?” questioned Rodrigo. “The
boy will not betray himself, I trust ?”

“He is no fool,” returned Carlos, smiling; “and he has
set his heart on some purpose of his own. We must needs
do the behests of the Prince. We are not here solely
for our own pleasure—Diego, what wilt thou do—come
with us, or remain here?”

“TI trow somebody had better have an eye to yon boy,
lest some of the greasy burghers make a heretic of him
INTO THE CITY. 127

outright, ere he knows what is happening to himself. He
is half bewitched as it is,” and Diego crossed himself as he
spoke. “I will have an eye to him, that he gets not into
some fool’s mischief.”

“And get not thou into some fool’s quarrel thyself,”
counselled Carlos, with a smile, as he turned away, taking
Rodrigo by the arm, “Have a care of thy temper, man,
and remember that thou art alone in a hostile city, where
arash word may mean death;” and the pair strode away
in the darkness, leaving Diego in the open street watching
for the reappearance of Alphonso. They were not sorry
that the youngest of their party had this stout comrade
to watch over him, though they would have been better
pleased had Diego possessed a somewhat less fiery temper
and a little more self-control. Still he was very much
devoted to Alphonso, and would lay down his life sooner
than that harm should come to the “boy,” as he was fond
of dubbing him.

Alphonso, in the little Romanist chapel he had entered
(there were very few such now in Antwerp), was looking
about him, greatly enjoying the soft music which floated
through the building, and kneeling reverently before some
shrine, glad to see that there were other worshippers be-
sides himself in the building, and that the “true faith”
had not died out in Antwerp yet. As a matter of fact,
there were large numbers of the inhabitants still loyal
to the Roman Catholic faith, although these were almost
as much opposed to the Spanish monarch’s tyrannical
rule as the Protestants. They dreaded the Inquisition
128 INTO THE CITY.

only a little less than ‘their brethren, and hated the sub-
version of the ancient constitution, and the military
terrorism and despotism, quite as much. So that in the
present crisis men of both forms of faith were united
in a common cause; and Alphonso had hardly realized
how much of the ancient faith still remained in the city
that the Spaniards were now trying to bring to submis-
sion.

It was to him a great privilege to kneel once more, in a
beautiful building, before the shrine of the Blessed Mother
of the Lord. All that was most devotional in his nature
was stirred within him by the sound of the floating music,
the faint sweet fragrance of incense, the lights, the flowers,
the picture of our Lady—a wonderful painting upon which
his eyes dwelt with loving adoration. For a moment he
forgot where he was—forgot the object for which he had
come—forgot everything but the ecstatic worship of the
Virgin Mother. And he was only aroused from his trance
of adoration by the voices of two men who had halted near
to him. He could not see their faces, but their voices—
they were speaking in the French tongue—came clearly to
his ears.

“Look there, my friend,” said one voice. “Thou canst
not say that our faith is a worn-out thing, and that our
forms are void, when thou seest devotion like that in a
rough fisher youth.”

“T have never said that thy faith was void,” came the
answer, spoken in a clear and thoughtful tone that fell
pleasantly on Alphonso’s ears. “We of the two faiths, as
INTO THE CITY. 129

men love to call them, should rather say of ourselves that
we are of the one faith; for there is but one, if we
go to the very root and heart of the matter—‘one faith,
one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of us all, in
whom are all.’ My good friend, if thou wert free to read
the Word of God, thou wouldst know that those are His
own inspired words, and that He has bound us all together
into one Communion in His Son Christ Jesus. We Protest-
ants believe in the Lord Jesus even as you do; therefore
in God’s sight we are all one. It is by the device of man
that we are divided into hostile camps. God would have
us all come to Him ‘in the unity of the faith’”

“ Ay, verily—in the unity of the faith,” answered his
companion quickly. “And yet you and those of your way
of thinking would tear down and uproot this very unity
which the Church has struggled to maintain intact from
the days of the Apostles.”

“<«The unity of the faith—in the bond of peace, ” con-
tinued the quiet voice of the other speaker; “that is how
the passage runs. My good friend, I have no desire to
enter upon a controversy with you, least of all in this
hallowed place—for I hold that any building which has
been solemnly dedi¢ated and consecrated to the service of
God is hallowed; but if you accept one part of the quota-
tion, you must fain take the other also. The bond of
peace is God’s will as much as the unity of the faith. Is
peace secured by the rack, the faggot, and the sword ?”

“But to preserve the unity of the Church—”

“My good friend, what has been the result of this en-

(444) 9
130 INTO THE CITY.

deavour to maintain your so-called unity? Do you seri-
ously believe that by torturing men’s bodies you will con-
vince their understandings? What remotest connection is
there betwixt pain of body and conformity of thought ?
You may wring false confessions from them. You may
frighten them into submission. You may threaten them
into silence. But is that your vaunted unity? Is that
unity in the sight of God? Tush, man! you outrage every
one of God’s laws to gain—-what? A miserable outward
uniformity which does but cover a deadlier feud and
bitterer hatred than is ever to be found at the sword’s
point. The fruits of the Spirit are Love, Joy, Peace; and
we are bidden to judge of a tree by its fruits. Tried by
that standard, where would the Church of Rome be found ?
Terror, desolation, hatred, violence, spring up around her
steps when she unsheathes her sword against those who are
baptized followers of the Son of God. May God in His
mercy pardon her the fearful crimes done in her name—
and, alas, in His!”

And then the speakers moved away out of ear-shot,
whilst Alphonso stood up and looked after them with a
strange expression on his face.

He saw very plainly the face of the speaker whose speech
had proved him to be what his world called “a pestilent
heretic.” Alphonso was tingling yet with surprise and
dismay at the boldness of the words he had heard. Was
it really true that men could thus speak out their inner-
most thoughts one to another, no man forbidding them ?
Could it be right? Was it not a sign of a fearful apos-
INTO THE CITY. 131

tasy ? A sudden wild longing came over him to follow
the tall, stalwart man with the fine, intellectual face, and
ask questions of him—questions which had for long been
stirring within his own brain, though he had been almost
afraid to give them place. How could he possibly frame
his thoughts in words? Surely it was some temptation
of the devil! He would put it away from him and resist
it to the last.

But the spell of his devotions was snapped. He could
not recommence his prayers. He wandered to the door
of the church, and hardly had he got there before he be-
came aware of a tumult and commotion going on without.

“A Spaniard! a Spaniard!
On every side were these words being shouted, and over
there, in the middle of the square hard by, a great tumult
was going on, the crowd swaying and yelling, closing round
some object which was plainly shifting its position from
moment to moment. It did not take Alphonso two seconds
to realize that Diego had been discovered, and was being
set upon by the infuriated crowd which had gathered with
the wonderful celerity usual on such occasions.

With no thought of himself, but only of his comrade’s
peril, Alphonso drew his sword, and making a detour—he
saw from the steps of the church how the tide of battle
was going, and to what spot Diego was directing his
steps—he slipped along beneath the buildings of the
square, and by a great rush he succeeded in reaching
his comrade, just as he arrived at a spot where a wide
street abutted upon the open square.
132 LNTO THE CITY.

“Save thyself, Alphonso! leave me to my fate!”
gasped Diego, who was fearfully wounded and battered
by the blows and missiles aimed at him by the rabble
rout. But Alphonso had already placed himself before his
comrade, and had cut down the foremost of his assailants.

“ Another, another! a Spaniard! a spy!” yelled the
mob, in wildly-increasing fury. But just for the moment
they recoiled from the shining blade of this new adversary,
and Alphonso was able to drag his almost fainting comrade
into the shelter of a great porch a few paces down the
wide street, where he stood over him defending him with
’ his sword, and receiving a perfect hail of blows from the

weapons of the foremost in the crowd, as well as from
~ missiles hurled from behind.

It was a desperate encounter, and he knew that it could
end but one way. The only thing was to sell his life
as dearly as possible. Already he was growing faint from
loss of blood, and had begun to doubt whether all was not
a fearful dream, when he heard the tones of a resolute
voice, which somehow seemed familiar to him, demanding
a passage through the crowd; and then something struck
him on the head, and he knew no more, for darkness
came over him and swallowed him completely up.
CHAPTER VII.
PRISONERS.

HEN Alphonso opened his eyes once more, it

seemed to him as though there had been

some great blank in his life—as though he had passed

in some inexplicable way into a new phase of existence,
and had awakened in a new world. ,

For many months past he had slept upon a hard,
narrow camp bed under canvas, and had awakened to
the sound of military challenge and salute, the clang of
arms, and the bustle of a camp. Now, although it was
too dark to see much of his surroundings, he was aware
that he was lying in a soft bed; that his head, which
seemed too heavy to move, was pillowed on down; and that
snowy sheets and warm, light bed-clothing covered him.
A deep silence was about him—none of the familiar
sounds to which he had been used—no tramp of sentry
or stamping of picketed horses. Far away in the clear,
still air rang out the chimes of some clock, and presently
four heavy strokes proclaimed the hour.

“Where am I? what means it all?” asked Alphonso
of himself. With a great effort he strove to shake off
134 PRISONERS.

the oppressive sense of languor which overpowered him,
and to lift his head to look about him.

But a thrill of keen pain, first through his temples
and then in his side, warned him that he had better let
well alone. He sank back on his pillow, catching his
breath in quick gasps, and for a while he lost all con-
sciousness of his surroundings.

When again he opened his eyes, the daylight had begun
to steal into the room from a large latticed window on his
right hand. As he lay he could see an expanse of blue
sky, bright with the early sunshine of an autumn morning;
whilst rising in stately grace, and cleaving this blue of
the firmament, was a graceful towering spire, crowned
with its cross of open stone-work. Then from below there
began to arise sounds of life—peaceful life—the sounds of
a city awaking to a new day. The window stood open,
and Alphonso heard greetings passing between one and
another, as the inhabitants unbarred their doors or win-
dows and caught sight of their neighbours doing the like.
All these greetings were in the Dutch tongue, and this
more than anything else helped Alphonso to recollect
where he was and what had befallen him.

“ Antwerp!” he said to himselfi—“ surely I must be in
Antwerp! Yes, I remember now. I went thither with
my brother, and with Carlos and Diego. I was in the
church; there was a tumult without. Yes—it is all
coming back! It was Diego who was in peril. They
were bearing him down, crying out that he was a Spaniard
and a spy. J remember all now. We ‘were together in a
PRISONERS. 135

doorway, making a last stand for our lives. That is all
that I can recollect. Some hand struck me down, and
I know no more. What can have befallen us since?
Sure this is not the way that prisoners are lodged in
Antwerp !”

The light was growing broader and clearer. Weary
as were his eyes, difficult as he found it to move even
his head or his hand, leaden as was the weight which
seemed to be pressing upon all his limbs and even upon all
his senses, he could not refrain from a careful scrutiny
of his surroundings; and as his eyes roved round the
spacious panelled room, which seemed actually to shine
with cleanliness and careful keeping, they lighted suddenly
upon another white bed with another helpless occupant,
and a quick exclamation rose to Alphonso’s lips.

“Diego! surely that is Diego!”

All he could see was a dark head and a small piece
of a swarthy face, for the rest of the countenance was so
swathed in linen bandages as to be absolutely hidden,
whilst from the way in which his comrade was lying, and
from the adjustment of the coverings over him, it was
plain that he had been very seriously hurt, and that he
had also been very carefully and skilfully tended.

But how had this thing come about? They were in
the city of their foes. They had entered that city as
spies, and had been discovered and set upon by the
angry populace. How, then, came they to be lying thus
—not in a dank, foul dungeon, where prisoners were wont
to find themselves, but in some house whose master must
136 PRISONERS.

be a man of station and of wealth? for no humble citizen
would have a guest-chamber of such fine proportions,
or bedding and linen so soft and white. Alphonso had
scarce ever lain in such a bed before. His tired head
could not solve the problem. The attempt to think
brought back that shooting pain in his temples. He
closed his eyes, and resolved to let things unfold them-
selves as they would. Perchance it was all some fevered
dream, from which he should awake to find himself in his
own tent or in some dark prison-cell. .

He shivered slightly as that thought came to him. He
could not but remember how his own countrymen had
served prisoners who had fallen into their hands. Sup-
pose he were to be dragged forth to be cut in pieces for
the amusement of the soldiers, or torn limb from limb
in order to extort from him some confession of beliefs
he did not hold! Aching in every joint, knowing that
every rough movement would be agony to him, the shiver
was natural enough. There was something in the un-
certainty and bewilderment of the situation that aroused
him, despite his weariness and intense languor, and kept
him from sinking back into passive restfulness. Into
what sort of place had they come, and what would be
their ultimate fate? They were certainly captives in the
hands of the foe—on that point he could entertain no
doubt. But why this spacious chamber and these luxuri-
ous surroundings? That was the puzzle he could not
solve. Prisoners were not wont to be treated thus—least
of all in times of implacable warfare.
PRISONERS. 137

A slight sound at the far end of the room caused him
to turn his head very slightly. The door was opening
gently, and with soft footfalls two persons came quietly in.

The first of these was a little old lady, with a spotless
cap tied over her white hair, her dark dress exceedingly
neat and trim, yet with a look of finish and dainty grace
impossible adequately to describe. She carried carefully
in her hands a steaming bowl, which gave forth an
appetizing odour; and she moved without any sound
over the polished boards of the floor, her bright, dark
eyes fixed not upon Alphonso, but upon his unconscious
comrade, who appeared to be her first object of care.

Behind her came a young girl, tall, slim, and graceful—
such a creature as Alphonso had not looked upon for
many along day. Her hair beneath its dainty kerchief
looked like threads of burnished gold. Her eyes were
a beautiful violet blue in colour, and were shaded by long,
dark lashes. She, too, was very plainly dressed, but the
dress fitted her slim figure and showed off its trim
proportions, the white apron was as spotless as snow,
and the girdle and little scarf were worn with dainty
grace that gave a touch of picturesque quaintness to the
costume. If the skirt were short and plain, at least it
allowed the embroidery of the stockings and the pretty
buckled shoes to be seen. Alphonso was in no mood to
criticise the Dutch burgher costume, or compare it un-
favourably with the more flowing and graceful fashion
‘of the daughters of the south; for he thought he had
seldom seen a prettier picture than that presented by
138 PRISONERS.

the pair before his eyes. They seemed to him like some
beneficent fairies come to poor prisoners in their hour
of need.

Both the women went across to Diego’s bed without
looking towards Alphonso. They were used to finding
both their charges in the same state of unconsciousness,
and they spoke aloud, though in quiet tones, as they bent
over this bed.

“T wonder if he will ever open his eyes,” said the girl,
in the Dutch tongue and in a very sweet voice. “ Lionel
thinks he may sink and die without ever knowing any-
thing about it. He is dreadfully hurt—scarce a bone
that is not broken. But he takes all you give him,
grandmother. Do dying men eat with such readiness ?”

“He is not dying, child,” answered the old woman,
as she fed her patient with a skill and aptitude which
showed her to be no mean nurse. “I verily believe he
will recover, though it may be tedious. These soldiers,
bred up to the use of arms, have iron frames, and can go
through wonderful hardships. But he is restless; he has
disturbed his dressings. See, child: take thou the basin
to the other, and get him to feed if thou canst, whilst
I set matters straight here. If these bones are to set
aright, these bandages must be tightened and adjusted.
But it is time the other was fed. I think I can manage
alone.”

“The other is the one I like,” said the girl, as she took
the basin. “He has such a gentle face, and Lionel says
he saw him saying his prayers in the little chapel just
PRISONERS. 139

before the tumult began. This one looks so fierce—
perhaps that scar right across his face, and the bruises,
add to that look; but I feel as though I should fear
him were he whole. He seems like one of those fierce,
cruel Spaniards of whom we read; but the other is quite
different.”

As the girl turned towards him, Alphonso instinctively
closed his eyes. He would not let her know that he had
heard her words. But as she approached and bent over
him, they flashed open once again, and met her startled
gaze with a look of full consciousness.

“Perdonate me, Senorita,” he began instinctively, but
found his voice so low and weak that it was barely
audible to himself. The girl had started back a little on
meeting his glance, and now looked over at the elder
woman, who came quickly across the floor towards him.

“Ah, sir,” she said, speaking in very good French, “I
see that you have returned to your senses. I trust you
will shortly be better. But do not try to speak yet.
Take the nourishment we have brought you; that will
give you some strength.” And signing to the girl to feed
him, she moved back to her other patient, over whom she
quickly became much engrossed. ;

“Will you not take the soup, monsieur ?” asked the girl,
also in French, the sweetness of her voice again striking
him strangely ; “it will do you good.”

He obeyed, she feeding him the while as though he
were a child; for he was unable to raise his head from the
pillow, and when he attempted this, was conscious of the
140 PRISONERS.

same sharp thrill of pain through his temples which made
everything swim before his eyes.

“Do not try to move,” said the girl gently. “You have
had some very bad blows upon the head. It will be some
time before you will be able to help yourself.”

The strong hot soup had given him strength ; and when
the pain and dizziness had a little gone off, Alphonso looked
up into the girl’s sweet face, and asked, in rather stronger
accents than before, speaking this time in her own language,
as he supposed Dutch to be,—

“Will you tell me where I am, Mejuffrouw, and how
it comes that I am in this strange hap?”

“You are in Antwerp, sir,” answered the girl quietly ;
“in the house of my brother and our grand-parents, in
the porch of which you and your companion took refuge
when you were assailed by the angry people.”

“ And you took us in, enemies though we be ?”

A little flush rose in the cheek of the girl, but she
answered, quietly and gently,—

“Nay, sir; we are taught not to regard as enemies those
who are in need of our tendance and care. None are
enemies who are helpless and wounded. And even if they
were, we are bidden to love and care for them.”

“To love your enemies?” questioned Alphonso, with a
look of wonder in his liquid dark eyes. “ Fair maiden,
who has bidden you do that ?”

“Our Lord Jesus Christ,’ answered the girl gently.
“Those are His own words. I could show the place in the
holy book; but I trow that you would not be allowed to
PRISONERS. I41

look thereon. It is only we who may read for ourselves
the words of life.”

Alphonso was silent, for it was almost impossible for
him to think or speak ; but he realized, for all that, that he
was speaking with a heretic, and that this fair girl, who
had come to him on this errand of mercy, was one of those
beings whom his priest and his sovereign would doom to
the dungeons of the Inquisition. For many weeks he had
been questioning within himself what manner of men these
burgher heretics might be. Verily he seemed about to
learn the answers to his questions in a fashion he had
little dreamed of! For here was he a guest or a pris-
oner (which was it ?) beneath the roof of one of these very
men, and was receiving meat and drink from the hands of
his kinswoman.

The girl said no more, but went across to assist the old
lady with the other patient, who was groaning somewhat
as they set his bed to rights, though plainly without any
consciousness of his surroundings. When the pair came
over to him again, he asked how it fared with his comrade,
and heard that he was progressing favourably, although he
had received so many bad blows that it must of necessity
be a very long time before he could in any wise recover.

“And now, sir, I must look to your wounds, for they
are grave enough,” said the old lady; “and I am surgeon
in this house, save for matters of very grave moment.
Will you trust yourself to my skill?”

“Most willingly, madam; and I give you great thanks
for your goodness to a stranger and an enemy. I trust
142 PRISONERS.

the day may come when I shall be able to return you
thanks by something better than idle words.”

“We look for no thanks for doing our duty, sir,” an-
swered the old lady, with simple dignity.—* Maud, child,
run thou below, and tell thy brother Lionel, if he be
within, that this gentleman has yecovered his senses. It
may well be that he would like to know it; and he can
assist me instead of thee.”

The girl retired obediently, and in a very few minutes
there entered a tall, fine-looking man whose face somehow
seemed familiar to Alphonso, and the moment he heard
his voice he knew who it was—the man who had paused
beside him in the chapel, and had spoken of being of the
Protestant persuasion, at the same time claiming brother-
hood in a most bold and strange fashion with those of the
ancient faith. And surely he was acting now as though
he could live up to the standard he had laid down, for
here was he sheltering within the walls of his house two
of his foes—men who belonged not only to his religious
opponents, but to the camp of the beleaguering host.

Good-morrow, Sefior,” he said, with quiet courtesy. “I
hear from my sister that you are on the road to recovery.
Is this so?”

“Thanks to your great kindness and hospitality, I trust
it is,” answered Alphonso; “but I am yet bewildered to
know where I am and how I came here.”

“You shall learn all you wish to know anon, Sejfior,”
was the tranquil response; “but for the moment we will
rather see to your hurts. I fear you were seriously injured
PRISONERS. 143

by the infuriated rabble; but their excuse must be that
they had been highly incensed at some gratuitous barbari-
ties inflicted upon hapless Zeeland sailors, and would have
been well pleased to serve you and your comrade the
same. But fortunately you had fled for shelter to the
porch of this house, and we were able to draw you within
our doors. And I have the consent of the Burgomaster
to retain you here as my prisoners, at least until you be
sound of your hurts, if you will pass your word to make
no attempt to take advantage of this grace by trying to
escape.”

“T give my parole willingly,” answered Alphonso, though
he winced a little at the word “ prisoner,” “and return you
many thanks for this favour and grace shown to us.”

Lionel Wilford bent his head in acknowledgment, and
proceeded to assist his mother-in-law to examine the many
hurts which the luckless young Spaniard had sustained.

Alphonso’s left arm had been badly crushed and broken,
and there was a torn jagged wound extending from wrist
to elbow which wore an ugly inflammatory appearance, and
made the old lady shake her head when the bandages
were unloosed. In addition to this the patient had re-
ceived numerous severe blows and kicks which had pro-
duced internal inflammation of a grave nature, and he was
suffering considerable pain, which increased with every
movement. Hitherto, though he had seen some sharp
fighting, he had had the good fortune to escape without
any great injury—a few flesh wounds and contusions

’ being all he had received. He had never been reduced to
144 PRISONERS.

the helpless state that he was now in, nor had he learned
by actual experience what severe suffering was like. He
‘set his teeth hard, and let no sound escape him as his hurts
were tended; but his face showed how severe was the
pain endured, and the subsequent exhaustion was so great
that he fell once more into a semi-conscious state, and
remained so for many hours, conscious of great physical
pain, but of very little else.

He was just aware that people came and went as the
long hours dragged by, that there were voices sometimes
about his bed, and that he was refreshed with cooling
draughts which were very welcome to his parched lips.
As the sunshine faded from the room, and the cool evening
breeze stole in through the open lattice, he began to come
to himself once more. He opened his eyes to note once
again the face of the fair-haired maiden he had seen before.
She was sitting beside him gently fanning him, her eyes
bent upon the page of an open book upon her knee. She
was so unconscious of his scrutiny that he had time to
look long at her before she knew herself observed.

It was a wonderfully attractive face, he thought, still
and pensive now in repose, but capable, as he felt assured,
of waking up into vivacity and animation at other times.
The curved lips showed resolution as well as tenderness
and girlish sweetness ; the long lashes only partially veiled
the blue eyes that could soften or sparkle or laugh with
almost childish glee. The soft pale colouring of the face
seemed beautiful to him after the olive swarthiness of so
many of his own countrywomen. Altogether the counte-
PRISONERS. 145

nance of this girl attracted him strangely ; and when she
suddenly looked at him and found him once more regard-
ing her, he smiled, and was rewarded by seeing an answer-
ing smile upon her face.

“You are too good to me, Sefiorita,” he said. “I know
not how to thank you—and yours.”

“We do not want thanks, Sefior,” answered the girl
gently. “TI trust you are suffering less pain. We hoped
the potion mixed for you would in time give you relief.”

“T think it has; I am grateful indeed,” answered
Alphonso. “Will you tell me how the time has sped since
that night when we were surrounded and attacked by the
populace in your city? How long since was it?”

“Three days from this evening. We were about to
assemble for evening prayer, and were awaiting my brother,
who had not yet come in—my eldest brother, whom you
have seen to-day. We were all assembled in the room
below—there are very many of us in this household, as
you will learn in time if you remain with us till you are
whole—when suddenly we heard the sound of a great
tumult in the square yonder. Our windows do not look
upon it, yeb we are nigh at hand, and from these upper
casements one can almost espy what goes on there. There
was a great clamour of voices and hideous shouts, and the
noise drew nearer and nearer to our house. Our brothers
rushed out upon the balcony, and we heard cries of
‘Spanish spies!’ and saw that some pursuit was going on.
Then in the darkness it seemed as though the pursued took

refuge beneath our windows in the porch below, and almost
(444) 10
146 PRISONERS.

immediately we heard my brother's voice calling the crowd
to order, as he forced his way into the midst of them.
The other brothers rushed down to help him, and there
was confusion in the house. And then we heard sounds
as though some heavy bodies were being dragged in, and
the door was closed with a bang. The people outside
yelled and hooted; but Lionel went out to them on the
balcony and said that they had all but killed their victims,
and that he would be responsible for their safe-keeping,
but would not have them hacked to pieces in the shelter
of his porch. My brother is well known in the city, and
though some strive to flout him because he is an English-
man, he is really trusted and respected by all. So the
crowd dispersed; and we found that we had two men,
sorely hurt, and in the garb of Zeeland fishermen, lying
within the threshold of our home. That they were Span-
iards we could not doubt, though how the populace had
discovered this we knew not.”

“That is what I would fain know,” said Alphonso, who
had listened eagerly to the tale. “I was within the chapel
when the riot began, and hastened to the assistance of my
comrade without, who had been set upon in my absence.
He has a dark, swarthy skin, but in the dusk methinks
that would scarce be seen.”

“Ah, but we found afterwards that he had knocked
down a lad who had failed to bend the knee in passing the
image of the Virgin set up at the corner of the square,
but had made some mocking remark instead. I fear me
that the remark might be such as to stir the blood of
PRISONERS. 147

your nation; and the Spaniards are not beloved here,
Sefior, and there are many who speak scorn alike of them
and of practices that we hold to be idolatrous. But be
that as it may, the lad was knocked down, and almost at
once the shout of ‘Spanish spy!’ was raised; and the rest
I have told. Our townsfolk are even more incensed
against the Spaniards than is their wont, for their cruel
treatment of our brave Zeeland allies who are trying to
supply the city with grain. But I am well assured that
those evil deeds can be no doing of yours. And even if it
were, we are bidden by our faith to return good for evil.”

“As indeed you have done, lady,’ answered Alphonso
in a low tone, as he glanced across at the motionless form
of his comrade, wondering if this mercy would still be
extended to him were it known that he was indeed the
perpetrator of those ghastly cruelties which had so incensed
the people of the town. “We do not deserve such grace
at your hands. I marvel we were not left to the mercies
of the crowd.”

“Perchance it will prove no such great grace to have
saved you from violent death,” answered the girl thought-
fully ; “for you must remain prisoners in a hostile city,
unless perchance you may be exchanged as the siege goes
on, if we lose some of our leading citizens. My brother
will strive to keep you in his house till your wounds and
hurts be healed ; but he may not be able to befriend you
longer than that, and captivity must be hard to bear in a
hostile town and amongst foes.”

“Only that in this town foes seem to be the best of
148 PRISONERS.

friends,” answered the young man, with a smile. “But
tell me, I pray you, lady, of my comrade. It is strange to
see him lie thus, without sign of life. Is he very sorely
hurt? He seems to have no knowledge of what passes
about him ; he does but lie and breathe.”

“Ay: he has some sort of concussion of the brain, and
all his limbs be broken too. But there is no hurt that is
mortal; and our grandam says that he will recover, and
that it will be well for him if he comes not to his senses
too quickly. Lying still as he now does, the bones may
knit themselves together the faster. But how came it,
Sefior, that you and he were thus found in the heart of
the city at nightfall and alone ?”

Alphonso was nothing loath to tell his tale, and the girl
listened with breathless interest. He had hardly begun
before a fair-haired youth, with a strong likeness to the
girl beside him, looked into the room and then came for-
ward.

“Tt is my brother Malecolm—he would fain hear all
too,” she said; and the patient continued his story, eagerly
listened to by both brother and sister.

“Tt was a bold thing to do, Sefior,” said Maleolm at the
close ; “and I trow your brother and friend have got off safe,
else should we have heard by now of their capture. We
citizens of Antwerp are not to be trifled with when our
blood is up. It was a near thing that you escaped with
life; and I trow you will remember the welcome you re-
ceived for many long days to come! They say you are
battered well-nigh into a jelly.”
PRISONERS. 149

“You think our comrades were not captured?” ques-
_tioned Alphonso eagerly. “I feared perchance we had all
been betrayed by the old dumb sailor, and that their cap-
tivity might be less merciful than ours.”

“We should have heard had there been more Spaniards
taken in the city that night,” answered Malcolm decidedly.
“T do not think you were betrayed save by the violence
of your comrade there. The brawl was begun by him,
and as no Zeeland fisherman would have so comported him-
self, it was easy to guess that he was a disguised spy who
had forgotten caution. You have him to thank for this
captivity.”

Strange to say, Alphonso was wondrously content with
his present surroundings. Perhaps physical weakness had
something to do with this; exhaustion and pain had taken
a great deal of the fighting spirit out of him for the mo-
ment, and he was disposed to lie passive, just waiting for
what befell him, and thankful to be in such kind keeping.
But over and above this physical inability to rebel against
fate was a deeper and more permanent feeling of interest
in those who ranked as his foes, and a keen desire to know
more of them and of their feelings and opinions—the
curiosity, in fact, which had been at the bottom of the
enterprise that had ended for him in helplessness and
captivity. Kind fortune had certainly favoured him in
leading him to this haven of rest. Here he would of
necessity learn all that he wished to know, and come to
have a comprehension of those very matters which had
been exercising his mind for many long weeks. A pris-
150 PRISONERS.

oner on parole, in the heart of a burgher family holding
the reformed opinion, how could he be better placed for
entering into their ideas with comprehension, although
probably with deep reprehension also? Perchance it
might even be given to him to rescue this fair girl from
the clutches of heresy, and restore her to the bosom of the
true Church. Doubtless she had grown up in ignorance
of the teachings of that Church. If she were to him a
ministrant of the good things of the body, might not he be
to her as a messenger from God, pointing out to her the
deadly peril in which she stood, and leading her gently
back to the true fold ?

But in the present there was little opportunity of quiet
talk with her. As soon as it was an established fact that
he had recovered consciousness, and knew who was with
him, the girl came but little to his bedside, and never
alone. The days were very long and full of suffering for
Alphonso. He had received grave hurts, and the inflam-
mation ran high, causing him the most acute pain—pain
which in those days there was scant means of alleviating,
and which brought with it fever and exhaustion so great
that his life was often in danger.

After one very bad day, when access after access of
violent pain had left him more dead than alive, and he
was lying in that state of exhaustion which seemed to
simulate death itself, though his mind was clear and his
consciousness seemed rather stimulated than impaired, he
was aware that two or three persons had come in, and
were holding some kind of consultation over his head.
PRISONERS. ~ ISI

It was a great effort to lift his eyelids and look who they
were ; but he made the effort, and satisfied himself.

He knew by this time the composition of this mixed
household, and had a vague knowledge of most of its mem-
bers. Lionel, his father, and father-in-law were the per-
sons in consultation, and although the patient appeared
absolutely incapable of hearing what passed, he was aware
of every word spoken.

“Ought we not to have a priest to see him?” said
Lionel; “he is not able to ask for what he wants, and he
might not believe that we would do his bidding in that
matter even though he were. But if he be dying—and
he certainly seems like to die—it is only common Christian
charity to soothe his last hours, if it be possible. Father
Andrew is a good man, and he would come to him, I think,
foreign and Spanish spy though he be. Shall we send
and ask him ?”

“What good can a priest do him?” answered the slow
voice of Van der Hammer. “If he be dying, he is going
straight before the judgment-seat of his God. What then
will avail the rites and ordinances of man? If he cannot
plead the death of his Saviour in expiation of his sins,
there is nothing else that he can plead, nothing else that
can help him. I love not those popish mummeries of ex-
treme unction and communion of the sick within the doors
of my house. To shrive an unconscious man is the veriest
travesty of God’s dealings. It is an abomination in my
sight !”

“T love not the mummeries of Rome,’ answered
152 PRISONERS.

Lionel thoughtfully ; “and yet I would not lightly speak
ill of those who have been reared up in the belief in them.
Neither dare I say that there be no efficacy in the Blessed
Sacrament, even when ministered with rites that savour
rather of man than of God; for has not the Lord said of
it that to the faithful He will make it His Body and His
Blood ?”

“ Ay, verily,” spoke Lionel’s father, in tones of grave
decision ; “and the Lord has bidden all His children to eat
and drink, and the Church of Rome denies to them the
cup—denies to them the half of the Sacrament, of which
every son of the Church has a right to partake; nay,
more than a right, a divinely-given command. Deep are
the mysteries of God’s Sacraments; dimly only can we
see their action upon sinful man; yet all that is given us
of God is given for a purpose. And much will the Church
have to answer for in denying to her children the Cup of
Salvation. But this is not the place to discuss such points.
We have here before us a dying man, a son of the Roman
Church ; and, good friend, I think, with my son, that we
should summon to his side a priest of his own faith, to
help him through the dark passage.”

“Would he in like case give us one of our ministers,
were we dying in captivity amongst those of his faith?”
‘asked old Van der Hammer, with some not unnatural bit-
terness.

“That is scarce the way to look at it,’ returned the
other gravely. “We are bidden to love our enemies; to
do good to them that persecute us; to do unto others as
PRISONERS. 153

we would that they should do unto us. Wherefore, son
Lionel, I think it well that thou shouldest go forth and
tell Father Andrew all, and bid him come hither if he
will; though he is a stanch patriot, and may not relish
the mission, despite his priestly calling. But lest he may
not come, or may not come in time, I will myself offer up
a prayer for the soul that seems about to take its flight ;
for we never know where the power of prayer begins or
ends, and it may help him, even though we know not if
it can reach his understanding or touch his heart. That
we must leave to God.”

Lionel went quietly from the room, but the other two
remained beside his bed, and Alphonso knew that they
both knelt. Like one in a trance, who knows everything
that passes about him without being able to give a sign
of life, the young man listened to the strange words which
rose and filled the room. Strange indeed to him, for he
had never heard their like before; yet they were only
words of an earnest and heartfelt prayer, offered for one
who seemed about to pass away from this world in the first
blush of his manhood’s prime. It prayed forgiveness for
all his sins, known and unknown ; prayed for light to the
departing soul—that it might have grace to look to the
Redeemer alone, and to trust in His Blood for salvation
rather than to any rite of man. There was a simple elo-
quence in the words that was inexpressibly striking at
such a moment, and Alphonso felt his own heart going
out in that prayer, even though he knew it to be offered
by a heretic, and to contain the germ of doctrines which
I54 PRISONERS.

his priest would bid him shun as emanations direct from
the devil. Yet even this consciousness did not alarm
Alphonso now. He was glad to think that a priest had
been sent for—was glad that if he were about to die, as
these people plainly thought, he should not die without
the last rites of his Church. But, nevertheless, he felt a
great peace sink down upon his soul as these words of
prayer arose in the quiet room. He made a great effort,
and clasped his hands together, as if to try to join in
them ; then, even this effort being almost more than he had
strength to make, he passed almost at once into a deep un-
consciousness.
CHAPTER VIL
LIFE IN THE CITY.

* ICTORY, victory! Hurrah for the brave Tel-

igny! Hurrah for the ‘Young Bachelors!’
Mondragon has been worsted at Fort Lillo! He and his
soldiers have taken themselves back to their own quarters !
Hurrah for Antwerp! Hurrah for the cause of liberty!
The great Prince of Parma is about to find that he is not
invincible yet!”

Malcolm and Maurice came headlong up the stairs and
into the long living-room with these joyful words on their
lips. Harold and Lionel started up; the women lifted
their heads eagerly; the old people did the same. They
were all gathered round the stove, which had been lighted
for the first time that September evening, albeit only a
faint glow diffused itself into the room; for fuel was like
to be scarce and dear, and care was being exercised in all
matters of domestic expenditure. But few in Antwerp
seriously believed that the projected bridge could ever be-
come a reality, and there was no danger of actual destitu-
tion whilst the bold Zeeland skippers continued to ply their
hazardous trade.
156 LIFE IN THE CITY.

“What has happened? Whence comes this news?”
asked Lionel quickly, as the two youths, flushed with
excitement, burst into the room. “Methought I heard
something of a tumult in the streets below. Have good
tidings been brought into the city ?”

“Ay, the best. Mondragon has been forced to quit his
position before Lillo. Brave Teligny has worsted him at
every point. But we shall hear all anon. Joris and Otto
are within the city. They have brought news and de-
spatches to the Burgomaster, and are doubtless with him
now. We saw and got speech with them for a few brief
moments, and they will be here ere long. But there is
no mistaking; it is no false report that has reached us.
Lillo is safe ; and doubtless the Prince of Parma is gnaw-
ing his nails with vexation that he has been foiled!”

As the quick sound of comment, question, and response
arose in the large family assembly, Maud stole a timid
glance at a long, recumbent figure, extended upon a couch
in a recess that was almost like a tiny inner chamber.
She saw that the owner of the figure was fully alive to
all that was passing in the room. His eyes were open,
and his head slightly turned towards the speakers, though
for the moment (save by Maud) his presence there had
been completely forgotten.

For Alphonso had not died, even though given up by
all who saw him at the crisis of his illness. His fine con-
stitution had enabled him to battle against the heavy
odds, and rally when those about him thought he must
sink. He was now struggling back to tardy convalescence,
LIFE IN THE CITY. 157

weak and feeble as a child, often prostrated even now by
attacks of acute pain, and feeling sometimes as though it
was a pity he had not been allowed to slip out of life
when death was so near. It seemed almost impossible that
he would ever be a sound or a strong man again, and his
spirit often chafed against the weakness of the flesh. But
still he was making progress day by day, and he was now
able to dress himself in the clothes provided for him by
his kind captors, and creep down the stairs to the couch
in the living-room, which he had been made welcome to
use. He had somehow contrived to win the interest and
almost the affection of the whole party. The women
pitied him for his sufferings, and admired his courage,
patience, and fortitude. The men recognized in him the
kindred soldier spirit, and felt those generous stirrings
which always follow a kindly act done to one who ranks
in the eyes of the world as a foe. They made him wel-
come to come and go at will amongst them, so soon as he
was able to leave his bed and drag his limbs from one spot
to another. This was the third day on which he had
found himself an interested and curious observer of the
family life which went on in that double house, and the
family had become so far used to his presence amongst
them that they forgot sometimes they had a stranger in
their midst.

As for Diego, he still lay in the room above, conscious
now, and sullen and silent, unable to rise from his bed on
account of his broken limbs, but not at all disposed to show
any of the gratitude towards his protectors that Alphonso
158 LIFE IN THE CITY.

exhibited. He seldom spoke if he could avoid doing so.
He would lie with a scowl on his face if any one came near
him, and accept what was given him in sullen silence.
He was no favourite with those who tended him as a mat-
ter of Christian charity. The girls were afraid of his
black looks ; the young men could not forget that he was
one of the hated Spanish race. The elder generation could
make nothing of him, and marvelled at the difference
betwixt him and his comrade.

“JT hear the brothers coming!” cried Coosje, suddenly
springing to her feet and making a rush for the door.
“Those are the footsteps of Otto and Joris. IJ know it,
I know it!” And she darted down the staircase before she
had finished speaking, and was quickly heard returning,
her light steps followed by the heavier martial tread of
the two stalwart brothers, who had been so many weeks
absent from their home.

Otto and Joris came in looking proud and happy, and
went up to the elders of the party to receive their salu-
tation and blessing before allowing themselves to be sur-
rounded and eagerly embraced by the brothers and sisters.
It was some time before the tumult had subsided sufficiently
to enable them to answer the questions heaped upon them,
or to tell their tale; but when silence had been restored
at last, they were ready enough to do this.

“Tt has been a hot time for us within the fort,” said Otto,
laughing. “Yon old veteran Mondragon seems to sleep
neither by day nor night, and it was one long cannonade
against our solid walls—Liefkenshoek (which some of us
LIFE IN THE CITY. 159

have vowed to win back to Antwerp) taking part against
us from the opposite side of the river. But our walls are
strong, and we suffered little damage from the batteries
that had been erected against us, although much harassed
by the pertinacity of the enemy. Our brave Teligny was
resolved to hold Lillo at all cost, and he had a shrewd
suspicion that the enemy’s losses were considerably heavier
than ours. At the same time they kept their station
before us, and ceased not to fire upon us from their
batteries. After some weeks of this we felt it time to
make a decided stroke, and if possible drive them alto-
gether away. A council was held among our leaders, and
then we heard what had been planned.”

“O Otto, what was that?” asked the breathless Coosje.

“Why, nothing more nor less than a great sortie from
the fort, which our brave commander was to lead in per-
son. We were to attack the foe at close quarters, but
not to fight too fiercely, reserving ourselves for the final
stratagem.”

“ Stratagem! what stratagem?” asked Lionel quickly.

“Why, that you shall quickly hear,” said Joris, taking
up the tale as his brother paused to quench his thirst in
the great flagon of home-brewed ale that Roosje had brought
for the refreshment of their soldiers. “We sallied forth,
as had been settled, and fell upon the Spaniards with a
right good-will, as you may guess. But they received us
with a warm welcome, and fought as bravely as is their
wont. There was some loss on both sides; but, as Otto
has said, we had other ends in view than that of routing
160 LIFE IN THE CITY.

them. We kept them hotly engaged until a certain hour
had arrived, by which time we knew that the river was at
its highest point; and you know that this week is one of
unwontedly high tides. Then at a given signal we com-
menced to give back, and retire, still fighting, to the fort.
The enemy, thinking we were in retreat, pursued us with
shouts, and strove to throw us into disorder, coming on
fiercely and fast, and being so close behind us that by the
time we had reached the first rampart they were almost
on our heels. But though so near they came no further ;
for at that moment the great sluice-gate was opened, and
_ out poured tons upon tons of water—a great flood let
loose upon them, which swept them away by tens and
hundreds, and drove them before it as we had never been
able to drive them. Our guns opened fire at the same
moment, and betwixt fire and water our foes seemed to
feel that they had had enough of Dutch cheer. The brave
fellows deserve praise for their gallantry and their resolu-
tion; for they would not leave their field-pieces behind
them, but carried them off in their arms, though struggling
breast-high often in the foaming water, and seeing numbers
of their comrades shot down ‘or swept away. We will
give them credit for being what they are—brave devils
of soldiers, though devils in very truth when they have
the chance.—And now, brother, I pray you pass me the
tankard, for I am as thirsty as thou.”

“ And do you return to Lillo?” asked the mother, who was
hovering round her two sons, as mothers will do when they
have them safe back after times of peril and uncertainty.
LIFE IN THE CITY. 161

“That we scarce know ourselves. For the present the
peril to Lillo is past. The Prince has commanded the
assault to be abandoned, and it may be there will be more
need of us elsewhere. It is said that he is still full of
plans for closing the river with his bridge, and that already
he has driven in innumerable great piles on either side as
the commencement of the undertaking. Some mock at
the thought, and others begin to tremble. Have you in
the city heard aught of piercing the Saftingen Dike, on the
other side of the river, since the Kowenstyn has been
lost to us? Rumour says that that is the next step to be
taken to thwart the Prince, but others say it will do more
harm than good.”

All looked at Lionel, who was best instructed in what
went on in the city counsels, and he answered readily,—

“The question is often brought before the Council, but
so far it has not been wholly decided. Men remember
that the Prince of Orange, when that alternative was sub-
mitted to him, declared that it would be hurtful rather
than advantageous to Antwerp, although some of us can-
not see why. I myself am against it, for my trust in our
dead leader is great. But it is like enough it will be
done, if the fear of the bridge-building becomes much
greater than it is at present. I wish that was the only
point under discussion at our wretched city boards. But
there be times when I think that the demon of mischief
_ must be abroad in our midst, so full of folly and blind
arrogance do our rulers seem. There are days when I

think they must surely be mad.”
(444) il
162 LIFE IN THE CITY.

“What are they saying now ?” asked Roosje anxiously ;
and all looked to Lionel for information.

“T have heard a whisper once or twice before, but to-
day it was actually mooted in the Council. It seems that
the citizens are complaining of the price charged by the
Zeeland skippers for the provisions brought into the town,
and that some of them have asked the Schepens to relieve
them of the heavy charges.”

“But how can that be done?” asked the old Van der
Hammer. “These men come to us at the risk of their lives,
and as we know, they are like to be most foully and cruelly
handled if they have the ill-luck to fall into the hands of
the enemy. With Parma’s forts all along the river, as
they now are, it is no light matter to run boats into the
city. We cannot look that they should take such dire
risk without compensating reward. What do the people
desire of the Schepens? They are not forced to buy if
the price be too great. If they prefer to go short of food
rather than part from their gold, that is their own affair.”

“ Well, that is how the right-minded citizens feel. They
know that in times like these food must be dear, and that
we cannot look for it to be otherwise; but our magistrates
are seriously debating whether or not to interfere on behalf
of the citizens. They talk of fixing a maximum rate upon
grain and other commodities, and forcing the Zeelanders
to accept what they have fixed as the tariff’ Whether or
no so mad a thing will be done I cannot say, but it is
already talked of in the city, and greatly approved by many.
Why they fail to see what the result will be I cannot
LIFE IN THE CITY. 163

guess; but their eyes seem blinded, whilst their hearts are
puffed up, and they think to rule the world, when they
know not how to rule their own city.”

“O husband,” exclaimed Roosje anxiously, “I trust
nothing will be done to hinder the regular victualling of
the city! What mean you by your words? What is like
to happen if our magistrates do this thing ?”

“Happen! why, that is easy to tell. The traffic will
simply cease. No man will risk his life to bring provisions
into this city if he receive no compensating price. Why
men cannot see this themselves I marvel. But when I
speak with the grumblers, they declare that the skippers
are greedy blood-suckers, and that they deserve to have
their exorbitant prices cut down. They forget that it is
our necessity, not their greed, which makes the prices high ;
and that if we drive these bold mariners away from our
ports through our parsimony, it is we who will suffer, not
they. As I say, it seems as though men could not or
would not see what is going on around them. God be
merciful to this poor city, for she has no mercy on her-
self!”

The faces of the women were anxious and troubled. It
was a serious thing for them to contemplate the cessation of
supplies. Roosje had long been making her preparations,
and her cellar was well stored with grain and salted beef,
hams, sides of bacon, biscuit of various sorts, cheese, dried
fruits, and almost every sort of provision that would stand
being kept for months together. At the same time, in
that large household the consumption of food was very
164 LIFE IN THE CITY.

considerable ; and even though supplies had to be bought
at four or five times the ordinary price, the prospect of
a falling off gave rise to great anxiety. Money had al-
ways been plentiful in that house; for trade still flourished
in these perilous times, and Antwerp could yet boast its
wealthy merchants. But if food ceased to be bought for
money, how then could the city be fed? It was almost
impossible to contemplate the commission of such a gigantic
blunder, and yet within a month the fiat had gone forth.
The indignant skippers found on reaching the city at peril
of their lives that they were to be paid only at the rate
fixed by the magistrates for their wares. They went forth
again breathing curses upon the parsimony of the menaced
city, and the trade ceased without a struggle through the
inconceivable folly of the citizens. Antwerp was left but
half victualled at the commencement of the long, inclement
winter, and that not by the blockade of the enemy, but by
the suicidal policy of her own governors.

But to-night and for many days following there was
nothing but triumph in the hearts of the citizens.

“We have triumphed at Lillo; we shall triumph again!”
was the cry on all sides; and now they began seriously to
talk of piercing the Saftingen Dike, believing, in spite of
all warnings to the contrary, that there would be safety for
the city in that measure. It was, perhaps, not wonderful
that in the minds of the ignorant citizens it should seem
as good a measure as the piercing of the Blaw-garen and
Kowenstyn would have been; but they should have re-
collected that they were ignorant of engineering, and of
LIFE IN THE CITY. 165

many matters which it behoved them to know before they
were capable of giving an opinion on such a vital point.
It should have been enough for them that the great Prince
of Orange had maintained, and in part demonstrated, that
to cut the Saftingen Dike would not answer the purpose,
and would probably be detrimental to the country. No
man now living knew as well as he had done what was
the most sagacious and far-seeing policy to be adopted.
Ignoring his counsel, resolved to effect a great master-
stroke and retrieve some of those blunders of which they
were beginning to be vaguely aware, the Board of Schepens,
in defiance of the advice of the Burgomaster (though that
advice was not altogether heartily given, Sainte Aldegonde
himself being half won over to think the measure a good
one), gave orders for the cutting of the Saftingen Dike and
the opening of the sluices. The thing was done, and a
large tract of country submerged; but soon it appeared
that this expanse of water was of no use to the city. It
was well guarded by Parma’s forts. It did not reach the
city walls. But it did give to the great Spanish general
an independent water-way by which he could transport
his materials for the construction of the bridge from Ghent
to Kalloo without passing near to the walls of Antwerp,
as otherwise his ships would have had to do. He had a
fleet of thirty vessels all laded, ready to come at some
propitious moment. The cutting of the Saftingen Dike
could not have been better planned for him. Scarcely
had the news been brought to the city that the thing
had been done, before they heard, to their dismay and
166 LIFE IN THE CITY.

chagrin, that Parma’s fleet was on its way to Kalloo with-
out approaching Antwerp at all.

“Great heavens! what will your citizens do next?”
cried Gianibelli with grim scorn, as Malcolm dashed in,
flushed and hot, with the news. “You fools—you fools
of Dutchmen! Said I not well when I told you that the
whole Board of Schepens had scarce the brain of a hen
amongst them? Mark my word, the bridge will be built!
that bridge will assuredly be built. Nevertheless, unless
Antwerp shows again that she is peopled with fools, I will
destroy it, be it never so strong and so secure !”

But all Antwerp was in a tumult, and there was no
staying to talk quietly. Veronica could scarce get her
lover to remain to explain what was about to be done.

“The fleet is coming down!” he cried excitedly. “If it
reach Kalloo, we are indeed undone. It must be stopped ere
it reaches the camp. Our Burgomaster is going forth, and
half the soldiers of the city with him. The ships are
being prepared, and the Admiral is to take command. A
message has been sent to the Zeelanders hovering about in
the mouth of the river to join with us, and we must at all
hazard stop this convoy to Kalloo. They say our Burgo-
master is roused at last to a greater anger against the enemy
without and the folly of the citizens within than ever be-
fore. I trust this may be a lesson which we shall take to
heart, and which may preserve us from further danger.”

The youth was gone almost ere the words were out of
his mouth. The streets were alive with excited citizens,
all talking and vituperating and exclaiming together. Men
LIFE IN THE CITY. 167

looked stern and angry, women pale and frightened. It
was bringing the peril home to them when they knew
that unless this convoy could be stopped, and some of the
forts on the Flanders side of the river taken, the Prince
of Parma could be supplied with materials and provisions
from Ghent by this new water-way, and need never run
the gauntlet of the hostile city at all) Ah! why had not
they thought of this before? Why had they not trusted
to the sagacity of that dead statesman whose judgment
had never yet played them false ?

In Hooch Straet the excitement was great; for Lionel
and his band were to turn out to man some of the vessels
under Admiral Jacob Jacobzoon, and every one of the
young men, even down to the lad Philip, had gone forth
to strive to bring victory to the city. The two old men
had gone out to seck for news, and to take counsel with
their brother merchants as to what might be done to save
the ill-governed city from the mad follies she was con-
stantly committing ; and none remained within doors save
the pale-faced women and their two Spanish prisoners,
who yet remained as hostages in their house.

“You, Sefior, must rejoice when we are in trouble,” said
Roosje, a little bitterly, as she turned from the window
whence she had been watching the march forth of her
husband and his band, and found herself face to face with
Alphonso, who was likewise watching with an expression
of interest the crowd below, all talking and gesticulating
in excitement and anger. “I trow the knowledge of our
misfortunes is as medicine to your heart.”
168 LIFE IN THE CITY.

The young Spaniard’s face was thoughtful and his voice
gentle as he made answer,—

“JT scarce know my own heart in moments like these,
Mevrouw Roosje. It would be but scant loyalty on my
part to lament at the good fortune of my sovereign and
his generals, and yet I have received so much of kindness
in this stranger city that I cannot desire ill to her. Least
of all can I wish that trouble should fall upon a house in
which I have known so much of Christian charity.”

Roosje’s face cleared a little; she did not long cherish
ill-will.

*T crave your pardon for my hasty words, Sefior,” she
said. “I would not have spoken them had I paused to
think. But my heart cannot but be heavy within me;
and in moments like these one is apt to forget that a foe
can also be a friend.”

“T thank you for that gracious word, lady,” answered
Alphonso, with a slight bow. “And if fate should enable
me to show myself worthy of it in days to come, I trust
you may live to find it no empty name.”

Roosje went away a little comforted. Sometimes she
had considerable satisfaction in feeling that they had these
two noble Spanish youths (for they knew by this time
that both came from noble families) beneath their roof.
Always haunted by the fear that her husband, or one of
her brothers or his, should fall into the enemy’s hand, it
was a great relief to feel that, were this to be the case, an
exchange might be effected by means of Alphonso or Diego.
This reason alone would have made her glad to keep the
LIFE IN THE CITY. 169

two prisoners with them; and as things now were, there
had been no talk of moving them. No official notice of
their capture had been given. They were looked upon as
private captives. Diego was still unable to leave his bed,
owing to the fracture of the thigh, which was long in
healing; whilst Alphonso, who was still very weak and
shadowy, had so won his way into the hearts of those about
him that they had no wish to be rid of his company.

He and the young men were on excellent terms. They
had that love of fighting and adventure which is a great
link in common. Alphonso could tell stories of his own
camp life and past experiences which were of wonderful
interest to them; and he soon ceased to seem like an enemy,
although he would not always remain in the room when
his Monarch was being vituperated and the practices of his
Church held up to opprobrium and ridicule. But when
Lionel or the elder Wilford was present this never happened.
Both of them had a certain chivalrous regard for the feel-
ings of their prisoner-guest which he was quick to mark
and appreciate. Also they both held views something
different from those of Van der Hammer and his children ;
and when there was contemptuous language passing about
the malpractices of the Church, they would interpose often
to point out the error of the use of the word “church,” and
maintain with some eloquence and force that the errors
were of man’s device, whilst the Church, in the proper use
of the word, was the Body of Christ, and must not be
spoken of as though it were a creation of man. To all of
which talk Alphonso would listen with bated breath and
170 LIFE IN THE CITY.

eager attention, longing to understand more of what was
in the minds of these men, yet half afraid to ask lest he
should be committing a deadly sin. ,
For he had had the ministrations of a priest when lying
at death’s door, and the Father still continued to visit him
and Diego, and was constantly warning him against allow-
ing himself to talk with those who held heretical doctrine ;
although the worthy priest held the characters of these
men in high esteem, and was on very friendly terms with
all. Then here in this city of Antwerp, surrounded by
men of fiercely heretical views (for there were many friends
and acquaintances coming and going to that hospitable
house, and Alphonso in his dim corner heard and saw much
that passed), he realized that there was plenty of the
persecuting spirit, which he in his secret heart condemned,
to be found in the holders of the reformed doctrines. True,
they did not seek to convert the world to their way of
thinking by anguish of body, nor did they openly advocate
death as a means of ridding themselves of those who did
not think with them; but they showed that they could
be very intolerant of any open profession of the ancient
religion, and he knew that there were many in the city
who would fain have enforced, even at the sword’s point,
the edict which had been made some years before, pro-
hibiting the forms of Roman Catholic worship in any of the
churches in the city. Alphonso felt that it would not be
difficult for this intolerance to thrive and grow till it
became almost as strong in the one party as it had been
in the other. The very men who so courageously advo-
LIFE IN THE CITY. 171

cated their own right to think for themselves and judge for
themselves, were almost ready éven now to turn upon their
rivals and deny to them this same right of individual liberty
of thought. True, the more enlightened spirits protested,
and it was well known that the Prince of Orange had been
‘a strenuous opposer of religious persecution in any form ;
but Alphonso was learning in this Protestant town that
human nature and human failings were much the same in
all classes and all creeds. He discovered that it was not
the absence of the persecuting spirit which made the radical
difference between Protestant and Romanist; it was some-
thing deeper than that, and so far he had not made out
what it was. Sometimes he was strangely attracted, and
at others almost equally repelled, by what he saw and heard
of the faith his royal master had resolved to stamp out in
these countries. But at least the desire for a better under-
standing had not died within him, and he often wished
that he could summon up resolution to unfold some of his
doubts and difficulties either to Lionel Wilford or to his
father. But the reserve of the English nation seemed always
to wrap them round, and so far he had not conquered his
own scruples of obedience sufficiently to break the ice of
silence which surrounded the subject.

Certainly to-day was not the time to broach it. It was
a day of anxious waiting in the city. Scouts were out in
boats all over the flooded country, and every half-hour some
fresh rumour would set the whole town in a ferment.
Great was the confidence of the citizens in Sainte Aldegonde,
whose exploits in the field had been so many and so
172 LIFE IN THE CITY.

brilliant, and ready were they to prophesy victory for him
and his barge, the Flying Devil, said to be the best and
swiftest ever built.

“We ought to have news soon,” Roosje kept saying
anxiously as the day wore away and darkness began to
come on. “I would we could hear some intelligence we
could rely upon. It is weary waiting when we have so
many dear ones in peril.”

They were not to be kept much longer in anxiety.
Sounds of violent execration began to be heard in the
streets, and the women turned pale at the sound, for it
was not the cry of victory that was in that note.

“Some ill has befallen the expedition!” cried Coosje,
starting up and darting out upon the baleony; and from
thence she heard angry cries, and the name of Admiral
Jacobzoon seemed in all mouths, shouted with every inflec-
tion of scorn and fury.

“Something dreadful has happened! We have had a
reverse!” spoke one and another in the room; and _ before
long all was known. The fleet from Ghent had triumph-
antly reached Parma at Kalloo, and the attempt to intercept
it had proved utterly abortive. Perhaps through the haste
in which they had been sent for, possibly from some
suicidal indifference, the Zeeland boats had failed to co-
operate with those from Antwerp, and Admiral Jacobzoon,
finding himself not backed as he had expected, had turned
tail almost without striking a blow, and had ordered a
retreat. Great excitement had followed that order, and
there had been something almost like mutiny on board,
LIFE IN THE CITY. 173

the soldiers vowing they would throw overboard the sailors
if they did not drive their vessels towards the enemy in
the wake of the barge which carried their Burgomaster.
But panic had seized the sailors, and they were stubborn,
and would do nothing. The confusion was great, and
nothing could be effected. Everything went wrong, and
what added to the terror of the moment was that the
Burgomaster’s barge was so hotly pursued by the enemy
(for Sainte Aldegonde was leading the van, and would not
be deterred by the cowardice of his Admiral) that he ran
a narrow escape of falling into their hands. Had not his
boat been so swift and so well managed, Antwerp would
have sustained a fearful loss that day; as it was, she had
received a sufficiently alarming blow. She had proved
utterly inferior to the enemy on the waters of her own river,
and her Admiral had shown himself an arrant coward.

“Koppen gaet loppen” was the name by which he was
in future known in the streets and alleys of Antwerp; and
“Runaway Jacob” did not care to show his face abroad
for some while to come. The whole business of the
Saftingen Dike had been a gigantic blunder; and Antwerp
was stirred to deep irritation, though even then scarce
realizing how much of this misfortune was due to her
citizens’ own turbulent spirit, disunion, and resolve to
govern themselves rather than be governed by the wise
heads of rulers.

The voice of the people was always the voice that
prevailed within those walls; with what result will be

presently seen.
CHAPTER IX.
THE DAWN OF LOVE.

- WEET Mistress Maud, do not grieve so bitterly. It
goes to my heart to see such grief. Would that

I could comfort you somewhat !”
Maud started at the sound of these words, and hastily
took her hands from her face. A blush mantled her cheek.
“T knew not that you were there, Sefior,” she said, half
rising from her spinning; for she was sitting at her wheel
although she had ceased to ply the distaff in order to wipe
away the tears that were coursing down her cheeks. Her
face was pale, and her garb spoke of recent loss in the
family circle. She was alone in the great room, which
looked chill and desolate this bleak November day, save
for the presence of their prisoner-guest Alphonso, who had
slowly advanced from the recess, and was now standing
looking down at her troubled face with a great compassion
in his soft dark eyes. He was himself still very thin and
gaunt, and there were deep lines round his eyes and mouth
which had not been there till within the last few months.
His movements were rather slow, and it was plain he still
felt the effects of the rough handling he had received that
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 175

August night. But the life within this comfortable home
had been all in his favour, and he was slowly mending;
though he was perfectly well aware that had he been
subjected to the hardships of a soldier’s life, he must in-
evitably have succumbed to his injuries.

His gratitude towards those who had been his friends
in need was very sincere and deep; and in especial manner
was he drawn towards Maud, who had from the first taken
somewhat upon herself the task of seeing to his comfort,
and striving to lighten the weary burden of suffering and
languor which had been his to beav.

Therefore when he saw her in tears, and knew how
heavy-hearted she was, it seemed to him that it was but
right and natural to seek if possible to comfort her, could
any sympathy of his serve to lighten her load.

“Sweet Mistress Maud, do not go. You are not afraid
of me after all your goodness to me in the past? I would
I could do for you one tithe of what you have many times
done for me. But men lack so greatly those graces which
belong to gentle womanhood. And yet, sweet lady, me-
thinks I could point out a way of comfort, if you would
but listen.” .

Maud seemed ready enough to listen to this gentle
pleading; she had resumed her seat, and no more tears
had fallen since Alphonso commenced to speak. She
slowly turned her wheel, for to sit with folded hands was
a thing almost unknown ‘in this busy household; but her
thoughts were not with her task, and her eyes sought the
handsome face of the young Spaniard
176 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

“To lose such a mother and a brother so full of promise
must indeed be a source of sorrow,” said Alphonso, softly
and gently. “But, dear lady, if you would but carry your
sorrow to the Holy Virgin, and beg her sweet prayers on
their behalf with her Blessed Son, I trow that half the
sting of sorrow would be gone. She is so full of love and
compassion. She is ever ready to listen to the story of
our sorrows and sufferings. She knew so much of bitter
sorrow herself, that her gracious heart is ever open to the
needs of others. ‘Our Lady of Sorrows, as we call her
sometimes. Ah, if you would but go to her and beg her
intercession, half the sorrow and the pain would fly !”

Maud lifted her eyes to the earnest face of the young
soldier, and a-sudden and beautiful smile irradiated her
own.

“QO Sefior,” she answered earnestly, “we do not need to
go to the Holy Virgin with our petitions, for it is Jesus
Christ Himself who liveth to make intercession for us
before His Father’s throne. We who have God’s Holy
Word as a lamp to our path and a light unto our steps
know well that there is but one Mediator between God
and man, even the Man Christ Jesus. And our dear
Saviour was Himself a Man of Sorrows and acquainted
with grief; we know that now He is a High Priest who
is touched with compassion for our infirmities, secing that
in His own flesh He bore our griefs and carried our sorrows.
Ah! it is better to go to Him than to any other; and
though with all generations we call the Holy Virgin blessed
amongst women, we may not address our prayers to her,
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 177

because she is not God; and we have His own word that
prayer may only be offered to Him.”

Alphonso looked earnestly into the girl’s fair face, which
was shining with the purity of her faith, and a great
compassion was in his eyes, not unmingled with a little
perplexity.

“Lady,” he said gently, “I know that you speak from
the heart, and I grant that there is a beauty in the words
you speak and the thoughts you thus express; but believe
me, there is peril in throwing aside the teachings of the
Church and in striving to be wiser than our mother. We
know that our Blessed Lord Himself intrusted the mys-
teries of His Holy Catholic Church to His Apostles, that
they should minister the same to all believers in all gen-
erations, as faithful and wise stewards. And the Church
in all ages has taught us that the Blessed Virgin has been
raised to the highest heavens, that she may intercede there
with her Son for us poor frail and erring creatures. And
oh, sweet lady, if you could but see what a beautiful
thought it is that we may always go to her with our woes
and our sorrows; that she is ever inclining her compas-
sionate heart towards us, and interceding with her Holy
Son for poor erring mortals! And not for us mortals on
the earth alone, but for those who have passed beyond the
grave and are expiating their carnal sins in the fires of
purgatory. Ah! think, lady, what it must be for them to
know that their names are being brought to the Holy
Mother of God, and that she is spreading out her hands to
her Son, and interceding with Him for them! Ah! how

(444) 12
178 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

can you refuse them this boon? How can you be content
only to shed tears for them, when you might have the
Queen of Heaven bespeaking mercy for them? If you
could but see as I see, ah, how the sting would be taken
from your sorrow !”

He was so much in earnest that the girl felt a quick
thrill of happiness in the thought of his loving sympathy ;
but the expression on her face did not change. There was
no wavering in her glance; and when he had ceased
speaking she took up her word again, for Maud was not
ill-instructed in those points of doctrine upon which the
whole fate of her country seemed to hang. She had heard
them discussed too often in her hearing not to be well
versed in the tenets of her faith. And moreover it was
with her no mere matter of dry doctrine. To her they
were very living truths, and she would have laid down her
life in the cause in which she had been reared, and had
often contemplated the possibility of facing martyrdom for
‘conscience’ sake. Had not her parents known hundreds of
good men and women who had gone to their death within
the last twenty years? And if Antwerp fell there was
small security for any heretic who might be found within
her walls, even though men said that the Prince of Parma
had no wish to be needlessly severe with the recalcitrant
Netherlanders, or to serve a vanquished city as his prede-
cessor had done.

“ Ah, Sefior,” she answered, with a happy smile, “it is
you who do not understand ; it is you, methinks, who are
to be pitied for the fashion in which you are taught to
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 179

think of your dead. You hold that they are being tor-
mented in the fires of purgatory; but we know that they
are resting in the peace of God until the day of the Resur-
rection, and that we need not pray for them, because they
are at peace with Him, and that none can pluck them from
His hand. It is not for them we weep. We know that
for them to depart and be with Christ is far better. But
we feel the blank their presence leaves behind, and for
ourselves we weep. Yet, methinks, had we more faith we
should scarce do even that; for we should think of their
gain rather than our loss, and be content. It is you who
should weep for your dead, not we—you who hold that
they are being tormented in fire. Oh, to us that is a
fearful thought! I know not how I could bear it.”

“Nay; but, lady, listen. It is not the fire of hell—that
indeed would be fearful ; it is but those blessed purgatorial
fires which purge away our earthly dross, and in which
the spirit expiates those sins committed here on earth,
before it is fit for the heavenly mansions above. How
could any erring, sin-stained soul pass straight from the
wickedness of this world into the awful holiness that
surrounds the Throne of God ?”

“Ah, Sefior,” answered Maud quickly, “how might any
erring soul dare to contemplate that approach into the
Holy Presence, save in the power of the one and only
expiation which ever could have been made for the sins of
mankind? It is not, believe me, the fires of purgatory
that can cleanse the soul of man, but that holy fire which
descended from heaven after our Lord’s Ascension, and has
180 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

ever since abided in His Church—the fire of the Holy
Ghost, who alone can sanctify and purify each human
heart. Sefior, believe me, there is no expiation of sin in
purgatorial fire. Christ on the Cross made the one only
expiation—the one perfect and sufficient sacrifice for the
sins of the whole world; and to teach that the sufferings
of human souls help on in that work is to deny that He
and He alone is the Saviour of mankind, and that His
work was perfect and complete. To us that doctrine is as
fearful a heresy as any of which we stand accused by your
priests.”

Alphonso looked very much taken aback; and yet he
did see the point she had made out against him, for he
was an ardent believer in the Sacrifice of the Cross, al-
though his mind had not been taught to go further than
the Cross, or to look upon a Risen and Ascended Lord in
the Heavens. The thought of the Saviour was inextricably
bound up in his mind with the emblems of His Passion—
the cross, the nails, and the crown of thorns.

He had often of late been present when the Bible was
read aloud in this family circle. At first he had ab-
stained from these readings as a matter of conscience ;
but latterly curiosity and perhaps a nobler feeling had got
the better of his sense of reluctance, and he had remained,
and had listened earnestly to all that was read and spoken.
He could not deny that if indeed these were the words of
Scripture as revealed by God, then indeed these people
had some show of reason on their side; for the words, if
correctly rendered, could certainly bear an interpretation
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 181

not put upon them by his faction in the Church, which he
looked upon as the Church itself. At the same time, he
always bore in mind the warning he had received from the
priest who visited him from time to time, that these
heretical Bibles were not true renderings of the original,
but had been moulded to meet the views of those who
wished to make a schism from the true Church of Christ.
He also felt grave doubts whether in any case the Scrip-
tures were meant to be given into the keeping of any
person who might choose to obtain a copy, to be read and
interpreted in any fashion that seemed good to him. He
regarded them rather as the property of the Church, to be
guarded and preserved by her, and dispensed to her chil-
dren in what form she thought best. It was, indeed, this
argument that was the mainstay of many men of enlight-
ened understandings, who felt that they could not answer
the arguments of their opponents when they came armed
with the words of Scripture in their defence ; and Alphonso
fell back upon what was to him an invincible rampart.

“ But, lady, although your words sound good, they are
not the words of our Holy Church. We have her author-
ity for maintaining that the souls of the departed have to
pass into the fires of purgatory, and that it is the Holy
Virgin whose intercession is needed by them, to help them
through their trial. Are we to set up our private judg-
ment against the teaching of the Church? I trow not.
The Church is of God; it is the Body of which He is the
Head. If we will not believe its teaching, we separate
ourselves from the Body—we become outcasts and heretics.
182 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

Ah, sweet lady, if I could but lead you back into the fold,
and bring you into the safe shelter of the Church of God!”

There was that in his eyes which brought a soft blush
into Maund’s face. Both felt that in this conversation, more
open and confidential than any which had taken place
between them before, they were drawing very near in sym-
pathy, although in opinion widely different. Both felt that
the salvation of the other had become very sacred to each ;
both felt a very strong desire to draw the other into a true
understanding of the faith. Maud answered this appeal by
a quick glance, which sent a thrill of happiness through
his frame, and her answer was very gently spoken.

“Indeed, Sefior, I thank you for your good-will; yet I
cannot echo your wish, for I am already a daughter of the
Church of Christ, and no anathema from any Bishop of
Rome could change my standing there. I was baptized
in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy
Ghost; and we know that there is but one baptism in the
sight of God, and that all who are thus baptized are made
members of the Body of Christ.”

Alphonso did not know anything of the kind. He was
no theologian, although a devout son of the Church, and
his impression was that heretical baptism was no baptism
at all. Yet how could he look into Maud’s pure face and
believe her altogether reprobate and outcast ?

“Indeed, sweet mistress, I would fain believe that you
did indeed belong to the Church.”

“T do,’ she answered firmly; “and believe me, Sefor,
had you heard and learned as much as I have done about
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 183

the Church, you would think and feel as I do. You tell
me ever and again, when other argument fails you, that
the Church teaches what you have been taught to believe,
and what we believe not. But what does that mean? It
means that the Roman Catholic Church of to-day and of the
past few hundred years teaches it. But if you go further
back still, you will not find that the Church taught it in
the days of the Apostles and their successors. Where do
we hear of them pleading with the Virgin Mary, or teaching
men that she stands as intercessor before God, almost to
the exclusion of His Son, who has expressly been called the
‘One Mediator’ between God and man? Where do we
hear them tell of purgatorial fires, of masses for the dead,
of indulgences for sin that may be bought with money ?
Believe me, Sejior, these things have been added by man,
not given by God; and thus have idolatry and will-worship
stolen into His Church, which should have kept the faith
pure as it was received from the Apostles who set it in order
in the first days. If I could but show to you the light
as I see it, how happy it would make me! It seems to
me a dreadful thing to have been brought up to put any
creature, however pure and good, in the place of the Crea-
tor; a terrible thing to feel that our Blessed Saviour needs
that any should come between ourselves and Him. If
when on earth He took up the little children in His arms
and blessed them, and never turned a deaf ear to the cry
of the suffering and the repentant, how shall He not hear
us also when He has received His glory in the heavens?
Ah, Sefior, if you only knew what it was to go straight
184 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

to Jesus with every care and every sorrow, you would
not talk any longer of the Blessed Virgin; you would
know that your Saviour needed not that any should
plead with Him for you—that you can plead with Him
face to face yourself!”

Alphonso was silent. He felt that against such faith
(or such delusion) as this his arguments were powerless.
He began to have a vague misgiving that these things
might indeed be true. He would not admit as much to
himself as yet—the bare thought was a terror. But none
the less was he conscious of a certain wavering in his own
mind, and he had to fortify himself by recalling the out-
rages of the Iconoclasts and the fanatical fury of some of
the Protestant sects before he could comfortably assure
himself of his own loyalty to his faith. He would not
bring these subjects forward with Maud to-day. He did
not wish to trouble her with controversy now in the hour
of her sorrow. He would rather have led the talk into
more personal channels ; for there was something strangely
fascinating to him in the companionship of this fair-faced
girl with the gentle voice and pure expression. Had she
not been a heretic, and had she been of his own station in
life, he would have wished nothing better than to win her
for his wife. As it was, the religious difference seemed to
make an invincible barrier, and he had not gone so far as
to wonder whether, that being overcome, his pride would
allow him to mate with a burgher maiden of Antwerp,
and take her home to mingle with high-born maids and
matrons from the noble families of Spain.
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 185

There was as yet nothing definite in the sweet thoughts
which floated through the young man’s brain and some-
times set his imagination on fire. He knew that his day
was bright or dark according as he had seen much or
little of Maud. He knew that it gave him the keenest
pleasure to note that she took him in a measure under her
protection, and that she would have thought to spare for
him when all else were occupied with their own affairs.
And indeed there had been much in Hooch Straet to en-
gross the time and thought of the dwellers in the double
house; and sorrow had fallen upon them of a personal
kind, in addition to the darkness of the political horizon.

For death had made his entrance into that house, and
had taken away two of its members. The lad Philip had
returned from the attempt to intercept and capture the
Ghent fleet with a wound in the forearm and hand of
which nobody had seriously thought, until sudden symp-
toms of gangrene set in, and the youth succumbed within
three days. His mother had watched over him night
and day till he died, and then she had taken to her bed
and quietly passed away before her family were aware
that she was seriously indisposed. It was a fearful blow
to all. True, they had been warned before that all she
had gone through during these long years of uncertainty
and peril had undermined her health, and that her heart
might at any time suddenly cease to beat; but days and
weeks and years had rolled on, and still she went about
amongst them as before, and until she absolutely lay dead
before their eyes they could not believe that she had gone.
186 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

The blow to her husband was terrible, and changed him
into an old man at once. A strange craving for his native
land seized upon him. He was so restless at home that
they knew not how to keep him within doors, and were
afraid he would come to some harm in the tumultuous
city, where discontent and mutiny were rife. It was then
that Harold made a proposition to the rest of the family—
a proposition which eventually was carried out with con-
siderable speed.

Harold had frequently been to England in the way of
business, with one or another of the merchant vessels be-
longing to the partners Wilford and Van der Hammer.
He knew the country fairly well, and of course spoke the
language almost like a native-born, though as a matter of
fact he had first seen the light in the city of Antwerp.
His proposition was that, since the future of the lower
Netherlands and of Antwerp was so gloomy and uncertain,
and if the city fell there was small doubt that all who
refused to conform to the practices of Rome would be
exiled from her walls, it would be well for a home in
England to be prepared to receive as many of the family
here as elected to take up their residence there. It was
also suggested that he and his father should go in advance,
and prepare an asylum to which they might all flee if
things should go badly.

His only condition was that he might wed Gertrude and
take her with him. There could be no home for either of
them without a woman, and the two had long been silently
attached. This plan was discussed very seriously and
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 187

carefully, but at the last it was adopted as the best that
under the circumstances could be devised. It had long
been decided that one of the sons of each house should
eventually settle in England, in order to facilitate the
carrying on of the merchant traffic there; and Harold had
always looked upon that country as his eventual home.
England enjoyed peace, and what to those in other lands
seemed like absolute religious liberty, under the rule of
Elizabeth ; and though the same cloud which hung over
them here in Antwerp was rising in the horizon of her
sky, there was a strong feeling that England was for
Antwerp exiles the best haven of refuge, and the Wilfords’
trading connections there of so many years’ standing would
secure them many advantages.

Harold was loath to leave the city in its present peril ;
but one arm was of little service to the state, and it cer-
tainly behoved that somebody began to set in order a new
home, in case this happy household should be broken up.
Misfortunes were falling fast upon Antwerp. By her own
folly she had destroyed her one chance of filling her gar-
ners with food. She had resisted good counsel and had
followed bad, so that her enemies had profited by those
very measures she had taken in the hope of securing her
own advantage; and latterly a sad blow had been inflicted
on the cause of liberty by the capture of young Teligny
by the enemy—a thing which was felt as a personal mis-
fortune in every household in the city. The bridge was
steadily growing, and although men still said the task was
impossible, the city was quaking and fearful. If Harold
188 . THE DAWN OF LOVE.

were to leave at all, it behoved him to do so quickly. It
would be difficult now, but a little later it might become
impossible. His father was in a restless fever to be off.
The quiet marriage between the lovers was speedily accom-
plished, and the little party started forth.

News had since been received that they had safely em-
barked for England, and that was a relief to all; but the
double household was strangely diminished by all these
departures, and the life no longer flowed on in its accus-
tomed channels.

Joris and Otto were seldom at home. They were sent
from spot to spot and fort to fort, as the exigences of the
moment required; and although Lionel had his head-
quarters beneath his own roof, he was constantly abroad
on public duty, and only Malcolm and Maurice could be
counted upon by the sisters at home in case of any sudden
alarm. Not that there were any really alarming tumults
within the city, but there were great restlessness, discontent,
and displeasure. Men who had made the blunders that
had done such mischief were now abusing the authorities
for having given way to the voice of the majority; and
there was still a small faction of Roman Catholics who
would gladly have seen the city reduced to submission as
other Netherland towns had been.

Parma had been opening negotiations, too, with the
Burgomaster and Council, seeking to persuade them of the
gentleness and sweetness of the Spanish sovereign, and
imploring them to return to their allegiance, where alone
they would have safety and prosperity. He tried to show
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 189

that the Prince of Orange had been striving only for his
own advantage in seeking to foment the strife between the
Netherlands and their sovereign, and made many promises
of clemency and mercy to all the cities that should make
submission to their royal master. But the burghers of
Antwerp had tasted something too much already of Spanish
mercy, and had heard enough of Philip’s good faith. They
still believed that France would come to their aid, and
replied that they could make no answer to other advances
till they had the decision from His Majesty. But they
were very firm in their assertions that they had done with
Philip for ever; and though they spoke highly of Parma
himself, showing that both his military genius and _ his
clemency were appreciated by them, they hinted that no
compacts made by him would be observed by his royal
master, and in point of fact declined to have anything to
do with the question of surrender.

It was something that the burghers and the hydra-headed
governing bodies should thus stand firm, with winter close
at hand and the city only imperfectly victualled. Glad
indeed would the citizens now have been to see the waters
of the ocean rolling up to their walls, even though some
thousands of oxen had been drowned by the overflow.
Now that it was too late they lamented in vain over the
Kowenstyn, and would have given all they possessed to
see it destroyed. But the day had long gone by. The
Lord of Kowenstyn had striven in vain to rouse them to
their peril when it was yet time, and having only been
flouted for his pains, he had sold himself to Parma. The
190 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

dike bristled with forts and block-houses. The Spaniards
had fortified it from end to end. No fear but that Parma
would be alive to the necessity of maintaining that bul-
wark, since its demolition would undo the whole of his
handiwork, and nullify the toil and skill of months. So
the prospects of the city were gloomy and dark, and the
public gloom seemed to be reflected in the faces of private
persons, who all felt painfully the long strain.

In Hooch Straet the life of the large household had
totally changed. The large living-room had been aban-
doned, partly because it was so much too large now for
the diminished party, and looked empty and bare; partly
because it was needful to exercise economy in fuel, and
the kitchen fire must be kept up. The great kitchen was a
pleasant room, and had a large window commanding a view
over the street. Old Van der Hammer and his wife now
had their chairs here, where the warmth from the stovo
kept them comfortable; and Roosje bustled about, over
hospitable cares intent, whilst the children were almost
always to be found playing round their grand-parents—for
it was the chief pleasure of the poor old people now to
have the little ones about them. The blanks and changes
in the household had been sadly felt by them, and they
were seriously discussing whether or not at the close of
the siege they would abandon Antwerp and make a home
in Holland or England. It was believed that Holland and
Zeeland would hold out against the Spaniards even if the
lower Netherlands were subdued; and as the Protestant
families were driven from the latter provinces, they retired
THE DAWN OF LOVE. IOI

to the last stronghold of independence and patriotism,
whilst wealth and strength seemed to leave the one place
and follow them to the other, till Holland was prosperous,
even in spite of the drain of the war, as she had seldom
been before. Almost did the family now wish that they
had migrated earlier—the elders of the party, that is. As
for the younger spirits, they still believed in the victory of
the righteous cause, and would have scorned to abandon
their city in her hour of need. Lionel was chained there
by duties he could not forego. The young soldiers and
volunteers felt as though every arm was wanted, and that
their own in particular could not be spared. There were
moments of exhilaration and hope to lighten the burden
of care, and the girls were almost as full of patriotism as
the men.

The Spanish prisoners watched and listened to all, feel-
ing very differently towards these people who had befriended
them in their time of need. Alphonso was filled with
gratitude. He had grown to have a deep respect for the
master of the house (for such he regarded Lionel to be),
and was conscious of something more than mere regard for
Maud. Indeed, he was half afraid of saying too much,
having surprised her alone and in tears in the deserted
long room, whither he often resorted when the companion-
ship of Diego became distasteful to him. He rose now
from his seat and retired, apologizing for hindering her at
her task ; but he paused to look back as he reached the
door, and met a glance which went far to undo any un-
conscious resolutions he might have been striving to make
192 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

against letting a spell be cast upon him by a heretic
maiden.

He made his exit with a beating heart, and went up-
stairs wondering what would be the end of it all.

In the bedchamber in which he had first opened his
eyes to consciousness, after his encounter with the Antwerp
mob, he found Diego sitting moodily on the edge of his
bed, beating his foot impatiently upon the ground. Diego
had long since recovered the use of his limbs, and could
pace this apartment like a wild beast in its cage; but
he never attempted to make one of the party below, as
his comrade did, and save at meal-times he never ap-
peared in their midst. Often he would not come down
at all, making excuse that the stairs hurt his leg; but
Alphonso knew this was a mere subterfuge, and that his
real reason for refusing to appear was his haughty disdain
of burgher folk, and his determination to have no more to
do with them than he could help. He was fond of saying
that he would far rather be in a prison than in this place ;
but his companion knew that this was all idle talk, for
the youth knew well how much better off he was here,
and how much greater chance of escape he had should
there be any exchange of prisoners between the hostile
camps.

Diego looked up with a scowl as his comrade came in,
but seeing who it was, deigned to speak.

“Always down with those greasy burghers! I know
not what has come to thee, man. Thou art no better than
a woman, making friends amongst enemies, and learning
THE DAWN OF LOVE. 193

to gossip like an old woman! Why canst thou not show
the dignity thy station demands, and hold aloof from such
greasy traders? Pardiez! I would sooner go to the devil
at once than make myself the friend of this heretic crew.
Tt will go ill with thee with our own priests when thou
gettest back to them. Thou wilt smell of brimstone an
thou takest not care!”

Alphonso, recalling the nature of the conversation in
which he had just been indulging, coloured slightly. His
face had lost all its bronze, and as by nature he was fairer
than the average Spaniard, the tell-tale colour when it
rose in his cheek was very visible. Diego gave a scornful
laugh, but looked very much annoyed.

“Blushing like a girl! Man, thou hadst better cast
away thy sword, and don a woman’s petticoat! I like not
the fashion in which thy time is spent, Alphonso. It is ill
work playing with the devil’s tools, and thou knowest
well that these heretics are nothing else.”

Alphonso thought of Maud’s face as she had expounded
her views to him, and as she had turned it upon him when
he left her, and he could not but think that the devil
found strange tools, if indeed he made ‘use of such as
these. And yet had not the Holy Saints been tried and
tempted before by fair women, who appeared in the guise
almost of angels of light? Might it not be possible that
some such temptation was coming upon him? He paced
once or twice up and down the room, leaving Diego’s re-
mark unanswered.

“They had better have sent us off to the common
(444) 13
194 THE DAWN OF LOVE.

prison,” said the latter grimly. “It would have been
better for thee, if not for me.”

“ Better to be dead than living ?—is that what thou
wouldest say ?—for assuredly I had not been living to-day
had I been in any place less comfortable than this, watched
over as I was by these good folks thou choosest to flout.”

“Well, it might have been better to die in the true
faith than to live to dabble in heresy, which is what thou
art doing now, Alphonso. Oh yes, I know what I am
saying. I can see the change in thee, and thou dost not
spend so many hours of thy time away from thine old
comrade and with these burgher friends for naught.
Thou hast heard them read their heretical book and
discourse thereon. Thou hast perchance asked more of
their hell-doctrines, for thou art very curious, and the
devil is ever prompting thee to peril thy soul with
damnable heresy. Be warned, Alphonso de Castro, be
warned! Thou art in a great and deadly peril; and if
thou dost not call to thy help the Holy Saints and the
Blessed Virgin, thou mayest find thyself a lost soul ere
thou knowest what has come to thee. Have a care, I say,
man—have a care!”
CHAPTER X.
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

“J F I only knew what had become of him I could bear
I it better,” said Rodrigo, as he paced to and fro
beside the sullen, swollen river, his arm linked in that
of Carlos, his eyes turned towards the distant spires of
Antwerp, which, however, were quite invisible through the
murky fog that lay along the river valley. “If I knew
for certain he was dead, it would be almost a relief; but
to be a captive in yon hostile city—I dread and hate the
thought of such a thing! Alphonso lying in some filthy
dungeon, deprived perhaps of sufficient food, subjected
to we know not what hardships and cruelties—the
thought sickens me! I would to Heaven we had never
trusted him with that hot-headed Diego! I would take
my oath it was he who began the riot of which we heard;
Alphonso alone would never have got into trouble.”

“T myself now wish heartily that we had kept together ;
we could have restrained the headstrong rashness of
Diego better than the boy. But it is useless to think now
of that. What is past cannot be recalled. After all, it is
but the fortune of war. We are all subject to that stern
196 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

mistress. A chance encounter with some of yon brown-
sailed vessels may give to either of us our quietus before
another sun has set. We all of us go with our life in our
hand. Had the boy returned from the city in safety, he
might not be living to-day. Think of all those who have
been lost to us since we set ourselves to this labour of
Hercules, and think of what lies before us yet!”

“Verily it is no light task,” said Rodrigo, as he stood to
watch the great swirling river, swollen by recent heavy
rains and fed by the salt ocean tides, as it rushed through
the great piles which had been driven far into the soft
muddy bed on both sides, and bespoke the patience and
resolution of the great engineer who had resolved to
put a bridle upon that turbulent water-way. “I know
well we have a winter of hardship before us, and that the
boy was scarce fitted to battle with all the exposure
and privation which lie yet before us. But to think of
his lying rotting in some Antwerp dungeon, or falling
alone, hacked in pieces in their streets! It is a hateful
and loathsome thought! It unmans me and makes me
hate this trade of war, which once I thought the finest
in the world!”

“Tush, man! thou art none the worse for such thoughts.
They come to all of us from time to time, though we are
none the less soldiers for them. But if Alphonso be
living, we will find him yet. For Antwerp must and
shall fall into the hands of our great general; and it shall
be our mission, yours and mine, to seek him out and set
him free, be his lodging the lowest dungeon in the city!”
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 197

Rodrigo threw back his head, and his face cleared.

“That is a welcome thought, good Carlos. We will
strive to think we shall meet again. I do but trust they
will not have made a heretic of him, with their artful
wiles, ere we can fly to his rescue. There was in the
boy a strange vein of curiosity about these pestilent
doctrines that often put me in a fever. Had we been in
Madrid or in any Spanish town, I should have trembled
for his safety many and many a time. It is not well to
think too much of these things.”

“As I have warned him again and yet again. It is the
business of our priests to make doctrine, and our part is to
accept and believe what they teach us. Why Alphonso
could not be content thus to do I know not. We have
never been troubled by the thoughts which entered his
head. But it is better to think of him dead, or in
captivity in a hostile town, than in the dungeons of the
Holy Office.”

Rodrigo could not restrain a shudder as the word passed
his companion’s lips) The Holy Office could not but be
almost as much a terror to even orthodox Romanists as it
was to heretics, if they really knew its methods. For
who could know that some miserable wretch in the
extremity of suffering might not mention the name of
any person that was suggested to him, or that entered his
mind, as one with whom he had exchanged words on
sacred subjects, or had heard drop a hint that suggested
the notion of heresy? It had been demonstrated before
now that the most devout and orthodox sons of the
198 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

Church could be haled away to these fearful dungeons
as well as the waverers or openly-pronounced heretics.
And although there was a singular apathy upon the people
of Spain, and the Inquisition was established almost with-
out a murmur from them, it was due more to the absolute
thraldom which bound them under the will of the priest
and Pontiff than to any real sympathy with the methods
employed to extirpate heresy. And certainly thinking
men of all classes regarded with a species of horror the
machinery now in general use. It was not many who
dared to utter their feelings, but none the less were they
entertained by very large sections of the community.

“Ay, better there in Antwerp than that,” answered
Rodrigo in low tones. “But I trust if he be still living
they are not striving to win him over as a convert to
their pestilent doctrines. Methinks he would be some-
thing too ready to listen to the voice of the tempter. But
I know not if they are as bent on making men think
alike as our holy fathers.”

“I know not that either. From what I hear of their
strange doctrines, every man may take his Bible in his
hand and stand forth as a teacher and expounder. At
that rate there will be almost as many religions as persons
in the land. Well may our priests call it Babel—a city
of confusion.”

_ “Ay, a city divided against itself—that cannot stand.

No, no; there is no safety save in the pale of the Holy
Church. Yet I would I knew what had befallen my
brother—body and soul.” |
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 199

Carlos and Rodrigo had had better fortune than their
two comrades upon the night of the visit to Antwerp.
They had proceeded quietly with the investigations they
wished to make on behalf of the Prince of Parma, and
had not been molested in any way by the few passers-
by they met in the streets. At the appointed time they
repaired to the narrow creek, and found the boat and
the old man awaiting them there, but no sign of their
comrades. After long delay they became uneasy, and it
was important not to lose the ebb-tide. They therefore
set forth to seek them, but could find no trace of them
anywhere. They did, however, hear from some French
soldiers, with whom they got into conversation, that there
had been a disturbance some hours before in the very
place where they had parted from their companions, and
that two Spanish spies had either been killed or made
prisoners, it seemed uncertain which. They strove all
they could to learn what their fate had been, but al-
together without success, and at last had been forced
to abandon the quest and return to their boat, knowing
that they could do nothing for the succour of their friends,
and not seeing how their own captivity could in any
wise benefit them. They had therefore returned to the
camp in a gloomy frame of mind, and knew not even
now what had befallen the other pair.

Days and weeks had passed away since then, and
still no tidings had come from the lost comrades. The
Prince of Parma had himself expressed regret at the
supposed fate of the two youths of promise, but he
200 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

was too much pressed on all hands to have overmuch
thought to spare for individual losses. He had embarked
upon a mighty enterprise, upon the success of which he
had staked his military reputation; and whilst resolved
to carry through the undertaking at which the city
of Antwerp was openly gibing, he was confronted with
almost insurmountable difficulties and suffered the greatest
privations.

The extraordinary devotion of his generals to that most
unlovable and treacherous of sovereigns, Philip the Second
of Spain, is one of those things which cannot but excite the
wonder of the reader of history as he studies the story of
those stirring days.

Whilst giving to his servants tasks of the utmost
magnitude to perform, he was grossly negligent to provide
them with those things necessary to the success of the
undertaking, and still more grossly dilatory in responding
to the urgent appeals made to him, even when he had
been made to see that without food or clothing, arms
or ammunition, his troops could not carry through the
work required of them.

Parma was always in the greatest distress for money.
Frequently his soldiers deserted by hundreds, so weary
and disgusted were they by this life of hardship, and
made hopeless of receiving the long arrears of pay due
to them. In many of the conquered cities the garrisons
were well-nigh starving, and the cavalry had dwindled
to almost nothing. The Prince had to depend greatly on
the loans he could raise amongst his own officers, and his
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 201

own resources were always at the disposal of the master
who expected so much and did so little, and who seemed
sometimes for months together to have completely for-
gotten that gallant little band encamped on the oozy
shores and dikes of the Scheldt, exposed to all the rigours
of a northern winter, and engaged upon a task which
might well make the stoutest heart quail.

Carlos de Cueva was at this time one of the most
able supporters of the great general. Wealthy almost as
a prince, and as generous and enthusiastic as he was
wealthy, he was a tower of strength to that little camp
at Kalloo; and the ill-clad, ill-fed soldiers and mechanics,
carpenters and gunners, who were making that spot ring
with the sounds of martial industry, had reason indeed to
bless his open-handed liberality. Through his efforts it
was that they were enabled to carry on their work, that
they had food to eat and clothes to wear.

“T trust you will get your reward one day for all that
you are doing for my poor soldiers,” the Prince once said
to his young officer. “I will take good. care that our
royal master is made aware of your loyal service; and I
will keep strict account of all the moneys you have ad-
vanced him for the maintenance of his troops.”

Carlos bowed, but also smiled slightly ; he had small
hope of receiving much save empty words from his
sovereign.

“Tt is not for him that I do it,” he said afterwards to
- Rodrigo, as they walked back to their own quarters. “I
trust I am a loyal subject, yet for our Monarch I would
202 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

not thus impoverish myself nor expend my revenues. It
is for our great general that I do it—the greatest soldier
in all the world! I would lay down my life and lose
every florin I possess for him. For verily a greater man
than he has never lived on this earth !”

The faculty Parma possessed of gaining the enthusiastic
devotion of all who served under him was a strong factor
in his success. His soldiers, all of them, knew that he
never spared himself, and that where the danger and the
toil were the greatest, there would their general be found,
bearing the brunt in his own person. Moreover, his care
for his soldiers and his compassion for them in their hard-
ship won their hearts as much as his personal bravery.
Living as simply as a hermit himself, eating sparingly and
drinking hardly anything but water, he differed in no wise
from one of themselves; and it was well known that
when there was real scarcity in the camp, he would deny
himself in order that his soldiers might be fed. In all his
many letters to his royal master, in all his earnest and
piteous appeals for the supplies which should have been
forthcoming as a matter of course, he never once mentions
‘himself, or has a word to say as to any personal hardships
endured. His compassion is all for his soldiers, those
faithful, gallant soldiers, who stuck by him through thick
and thin, and toiled day and night through hardships of
every kind to carry out the work on which his heart was
set. For them were all his compassion and laudation ; his
own devotion was taken simply as a matter of course.
His soldiers instinctively knew that their great general
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 203

was also their best friend; and though there were mer-
cenaries, and even some amongst the Spanish troops, who
deserted owing to famine and sickness, yet the bulk of
those immediately about Parma remained stanch under every
privation.

And now this wonderful feat of bridging the Scheldt
was being patiently and systematically carried out. Whilst
the burghers of Antwerp were laughing at the bare notion
of putting a bridle on that mighty volume of water, and
deluding themselves with the belief that France would
quickly come to their aid, the little island of Kalloo was
ringing with sounds of industry, and bit by bit the great
work was going on.

Two forts had been erected at opposite sides of the
river, called respectively Fort Philip and Fort St. Mary.
These forts were garrisoned, and provided with heavy ord-
nance, so that they commanded the river from bank to
bank, and protected those at work there from the assault
of vessels coming down from the city, or up the river
from Holland and Zeeland. When the forts were com-
pleted, the work of pile-driving began; and a great work
this was, for each huge pile was driven fifty feet into the
oozy bed of the river, and this tremendous bulwark of
huge piles extended five hundred feet into the stream on
either side. ;

The amount of labour thus involved may be better
imagined than described, with the tidal river rising and
falling, the autumnal storms often lashing it into fury, and
the constant fear in the minds of the workers of some
204 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

concerted attack upon it from the city and its allies out-
side.

“T marvel they thus let us alone,” Carlos said that even-
ing to Rodrigo, as they visited the scene of industry, so
familiar in all its details to every person stationed near.
“They have a well-manned fleet of those amphibious and
fierce Zeelanders over yonder, and Antwerp itself has many
good ships, to say nothing of that monster vessel—that
Bugaboo, of which we hear so much—which is being built
for our overthrow. Methinks the Holy Virgin must surely
be fighting for us, and have sent them some strong delusion .
to blind their eyes withal. It is marvellous to me that day
by day goes by, and we have nothing worse to encounter
than those skirmishing attacks which we have had up and
down the river ever since we established ourselves here.
Why, if I were one of yon rebel herd, either within or
without the city walls, I would stir heaven and earth to
devise some great general attack upon this outwork which
should demolish it at one fell swoop. I trow our Prince
has been looking for this from the beginning. But the
city seems to be wrapped in sleep.”

“Tt is plain the Prince of Orange is dead,” answered
Rodrigo thoughtfully. “Were he alive we should never
work thus undisturbed. But these low-born rebels are
now like a body without a head. They can think of
nothing and do nothing to save themselves. See how
they are ever playing into our hands by their blunders.
First the Kowenstyn Dyke given over to us, then the
Saftingen cut through, and our water-way furnished us. I
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 205

marvel that the dead Prince can rest in his grave whilst.
such things are being done through lack of his guiding
arm.”

“Oh, the devil has him fast, and will not let him go
now!” laughed Carlos. “He did harm enough in his
lifetime for ten men. He will not be let out of hell fire
to disturb the peace of the Church again. Without him
these dogs of heretics can do nothing. With time and
patience Antwerp will be ours; and after Antwerp has
fallen all the country will submit. They had hest be
quick with their great vessel the War’s End, else the
war will have ended in a different way ere their monster
is ready for action.”

But although the Prince had great hopes of succeeding
with his bridge, he was in a very desperate state, as has
just been explained, owing to the lack of funds and sup-
plies; and if he could have induced the city to return to
its allegiance without further severities, he would have been
very thankful. For the most difficult part of the work
still remained to be done, and that in the teeth of winter
storms and the assaults of the great ice-floes, which were
like to be more redoubtable enemies than the enemy’s
ships had so far been. The pile-driving had been success-
ful so far as it went; but in the middle of the river was
a wide, wide space in which the current ran too strong
and the river was too deep for any further pile-driving to
be possible. Between the two great bulwarks already
erected there yawned a great gap of dark, swirling water,
above twelve hundred feet wide; and before the long-
206 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

talked-of bridge could become a reality, this great chasm
must be filled by floating barges, lashed together and
planked over, as the piles were fast being planked, so that
a wide continuous road from bank to bank should effectu-
ally close the river, and make a permanent highway, upon
which the Spanish soldiers could march to and fro at will
before the very eyes of the scornful Antwerp burghers.
This, indeed, was Parma’s great design, and already he
had the materials under his hand for the accomplishment |
of his purpose. His barges were built or being built, his
preparations were all most carefully made, and both he and
the Marquis Richebourg were ubiquitous in their task of
examining into every detail of the work, and encouraging .
the men engaged in the colossal task. But that it was a
colossal task the great general very well knew; and none
understood better than he how fearful would be the peril
to its success were Antwerp to awaken from the inexpli-
cable state of apathy into which she appeared to have
fallen, and make a determined assault upon his camp and
bridge in concert with all the strength of the Zeeland fleet.
Probably, had the impoverished condition of Parma’s '
army and the straits to which he was often reduced been
known to the foe, something more energetic might have
been attempted; but the general had the wisdom and
acuteness always to put the best face upon his affairs, and
he certainly gave every appearance of strength and con-
fidence and prosperity. It was only to his master in
Spain that he let the true nature of his condition be
known; and only after the lapse of centuries has the
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 207

world learned in what desperate plight the brilliant com-
mander often stood.

Parma, too, had begun to feel a real tenderness towards
the people of the Netherlands, and would gladly have saved
them further horrors of war. He had none of Alva’s
stern ferocity and cruelty; he recognized devotion and
zeal when he saw them, and although he was convinced
that these good qualities were wasted in an evil cause, he
appreciated them, and felt kindly towards his foes, even
though they gave him an infinity of trouble by their
stubborn resistance.

So he attempted once again, before taking the final
steps with regard to his bridge, to induce the people of the
city to listen to reason. He was prepared to offer gener-
ous terms to them if they would but capitulate and return
to submission; but it need hardly be said that it never
once entered his head to grant that religious toleration for
which the rebellious Provinces had been struggling for
above a generation. The idea of sanctioning heretical
worship was abhorrent to him. He was no theologian,
but he had been brought up to believe that the Roman
Catholic faith was the one faith of the Church, and that
all else was of the devil; and to this belief he tenaciously
adhered. Not that Philip would have budged an inch
from his position had Parma been never so eager to gain
this point for the rebellious cities; but saving this one
great matter, the general was willing to concede much, and
was also desirous that there should be no massacre of
heretical burghers, but only that they should be exiled
208 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

from the city if they could not be brought to conform to
the established faith of Rome.

Philip would have preferred hanging or burning them
all; but this protracted war had taught him some lessons,
and of late he had been constrained to permit an exodus
of these detested persons from all cities which had sub-
mitted themselves anew to his dominion. Forth from the
lower Provinces, therefore, had gone the best and wealthiest
and ablest of its inhabitants, taking with them to Holland
or England their money, their industry, and that pros-
perity which had made the Netherlands what they were.
It was too soon as yet to see the fatal results of Philip’s
policy of oppression, but it was speedily to be fully seen.
The “reconciled” Provinces reaped as their reward noth-
ing but poverty, oppression, and misery, which quickly re-
duced them to a level far lower than anything they had
experienced during the long war; whilst the portion of the
country which still held out and stood boldly up for free-
dom, civil and religious, throve and prospered despite the
drain of the war, and became an example in the eyes of
the world of what might be accomplished by resolution
and devotion in a noble cause.

So negotiations were opened with the city, but could
not be entertained, as the Council explained, because of
the prior negotiation commenced with France. Moreover,
the burghers boldly declared that they had seen enough
of the Spanish monarch’s tenderness and good faith, and
declined to have anything more to do with it.

Parma’s lips curled, half in scorn and half in compassion,
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 209

as he read the ponderous phrases in which the reply was
couched. He sent one more letter in reply, assuring the
' citizens that Henry the Third of France was far too good
a friend to his own master ever to dream of encouraging
rebellion in these Provinces; and that the King of Spain
could foil him in a hundred ways, even were he to attempt
to take upon himself the cause of the Netherlanders. As
for the religious question, which he noted they asserted to
be the sole cause of the long war, he confessed himself un-
able to understand how the cause of Christianity or the
doctrines of Jesus could be forwarded by taking up arms
against their lawful sovereign, overwhelming their country
with watery desolation, and reducing the whole land to
a state of misery and chaos. This was not religion as
taught by the Church, and he confessed himself unable to
understand it. But no answer was returned to this last
communication, and after a brief interlude the work of
closing the bridge was begun in good earnest.

It was with the deepest anxiety that the devoted little
army watched the descent of the first ice-floes as they
came charging down the rapid, swollen river, and dashed
themselves against the outer palisade of the great planked
pathway which ran far out into the river on either side.
But the pile-driving had been well done; and though the
heavy timbers creaked and groaned, the bulwark stood
firm in spite of the lashing of winter storms and the back-
ward and forward sway of the great frozen floes as the
tide rose and fell morning and night.

And now began the difficult task of getting the barges
(444) 14
210 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

into position, and laying down upon them the continuation
of the planked pathway which projected five hundred feet
from either shore. These barges were above sixty feet
long—the width of the great bridge—and a gap of some
twenty feet was left between them, where the black water
swirled freely. These barges were anchored stem and
stern, bound together in many places by hawsers and
chains of great strength; cross-rafters were placed upon
them, and then they were ready for the continuation of
the great planked pathway which gradually extended
further and further from either shore, till an ever-narrow-
ing gap marked the progress of the wonderful bridge, and
incited the willing workers to redoubled efforts.

But the great general had another supplementary de-
vice which was of great value in the final construction of
the bridge. He had had two huge rafts built, supported
in the water by empty casks, and composed of heavy
timbers bound together, with a serrated outer edge com-
posed of sharp iron prongs, hooks, and teeth. These two
rafts were each above twelve hundred feet in length, and
were anchored in the river immediately above and below
the bridge, at about eighty yards distant from it, forming
a protection for the floating portion of the structure, and
for part of the pile-work as well. It need hardly be said
what an immense assistance to the workers was this outer
rampart. It checked in some degree the rapid flow of
the river, it caught and detained the masses of ice coming
up or down with tide or current. Had any attack been
made during the later stages of the building, it would
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 211

have obliged the attacking vessels to come close inshore
to get round it, and then they would have been exposed
to the hottest fire from the forts and from the soldiers
along the banks. But whether from motives of apathy
or fear, no real attempt had been made to hinder the
work. The Spaniards were on the alert for a foe who
did not appear disposed to come to close quarters, and the
work went on from day to day unimpeded.

One great peril did for a moment menace Parma’s work,
as will be related in the following chapter, though not a
peril actually to the bridge itself. The work there went
steadily forward, success in the great undertaking warming
the hearts of the workers and lightening their toil.

Carlos and Rodrigo were enthusiastic over the work,
and were able assistants of the Prince and Marquis. It
was Carlos who undertook to supply the guns with which
each barge was to be supplied, one pointing up and the
other down stream. ‘There were pieces of artillery to be
purchased in Ghent by any one who had money to pay
for them, and he and Rodrigo made a personal expedition
to that conquered city to see after this matter and bring
home their convoy.

It formed a break in the monotony of camp life; but
the aspect of the fallen city was hardly encouraging to
those who wished to believe that the rule of the Spanish
monarch was a wise and good one for the people over
whom he ruled. Houses were closed and streets half
deserted. The most respected and opulent of the citizens
had left the place, or were fast leaving. Grass had begun
212 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

to grow in many thoroughfares, and a stagnation and
listlessness were brooding over the place strangely different
from the pulsating energy and excitement which they had
noted a month or two ago as the prevailing atmosphere in
Antwerp.

Thanks to the piercing of the Saftingen Dike, the way
to Ghent was easy, and there was no difficulty in getting
the pieces of ordnance brought down to the camp at
Kalloo. The young officers saw the convoy safely off, but
remained themselves a while longer in the city, striving to
negotiate purchases of grain and salted beef for the hungry
soldiers, who often had just enough to keep body and soul
together.

Ghent could not but be interesting to the youths, being
a city that had gone through so many vicissitudes during
the war, and had been the scene of so many famous (or
infamous) treacheries. They heard the story of these
from many lips as they went about their business, talking
to the people for the sake of information, or sitting by the
stove at night, and hearing stories of past sieges and
betrayals. They could not but feel some interest in the
views of the conquered citizens, even though these were
advanced with some doubtfulness and timidity. The re-
ligious aspect of the quarrel between their king and his
subjects had small interest for them. They were not like
Alphonso. No qualm of doubt as to the teaching in which
they had been reared had ever troubled them; it did not
even interest them to know what the heretics thought on
these subjects. But upon the civil side of the question they
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 213

did not object to discourse, nor to hear what the citizens
had to say for themselves; and despite the fact that all
attempts at negotiation between the belligerents had been
prefaced by a wearisome historical summary, these two
Spaniards had never realized how the recent government
of Philip had been regarded in the rebellious Provinces.
This was now explained to them by an old citizen in
whose house they lodged. He had always been a Roman
Catholic, and therefore had not left the city; but he still
held grimly to his point that the Ancient Constitution had
been grossly violated, and that although submission had
become inevitable under present circumstances, rebellion
was not only excusable, but actually right and proper.

And then he proceeded to prove to the guests what had
been the terms of this Ancient Constitution, and to demon-
strate that in rebelling his countrymen had been entirely
within their recognized rights.

The Ancient Constitution set forth that there were
three estates in the country—clergy, nobility, and citizens
—and that these estates were equal, so that one could not
be raised above the others without the consent of the
other two. Another point set forth was that no man
could be tried for any offence whatever save in the open
and ordinary courts of the land. Foreigners were in-
eligible for provincial offices; whilst any violation of the
privileges thus secured to the dwellers in the Netherlands
released them from their oath of allegiance to the sovereign
who had not observed their rights.

It hardly needed to be pointed out to Carlos and
214 THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE.

Rodrigo that for any monarch who had subscribed to
these conditions to attempt to foist the Inquisition upon
the country was the very grossest violation of treaty.

That innovation alone was enough to release the people
from their oath of allegiance; and they had innumerable
other grievances to show, in which their privileges had
been illegally curtailed and their faith tampered with,
The old man spoke temperately, for his heart was well-
nigh broken by all he had passed through, and the active
stage of indignant sorrow had been merged in the calm
apathy of despair.

“We have been in the right all through, young Sefirs,”
he said; “but the struggle has been too hard for us,
and treachery has often done what force and violence
could not achieve. Ghent has fallen, and almost all of
Flanders and Brabant. Antwerp and Brussels are doomed,
and then the whole of the lower Netherlands will be
‘reconciled’ I am an old man—it matters little to me
what happens now; but mark my words, young sirs—
for you will live to see it, though I shall not—your royal
master will reap but a barren victory when he has reduced
these unhappy lands beneath his yoke again. Only as
free and happy can we of these Provinces prosper, To us
servitude and slavery bring death and misery in their
wake. Your monarch may think he has done a great
deed; yet he will find that he has but gathered Dead Sea
fruit. He has sucked the life-blood from us; it will be
for him to see what a dead corpse of a once living land
can do for him. Ah, would that the Prince of Orange
THE BUILDING OF THE BRIDGE. 215

had lived! Then there had been hope for us; now there
is none.”

With these gloomy forecasts ringing in their ears did
Carlos and Rodrigo return to their duties at Kalloo.
With a sense of uneasy wonder they sometimes asked
themselves whether indeed this old man’s words could be
true.
CHAPTER XI.
BOIS-LE-DUC.

“« TT ORIS! Otto! Now this is an unlooked-for joy!
J Whence come ye, and with what news?”

The two young men, who looked as though they
had travelled far or else in some haste, were greeting the
party at home with eager pleasure. They had been for
some time absent from Antwerp now, having been de-
spatched from the city with letters to Count Hohenlo in
Gertruydenberg, and it had been uncertain whether or not
they would succeed in finding entrance into the city again.
The country was in a very disturbed state, and Parma’s
vigilance made it difficult for the beleaguered city to hold
communication with other places; but the preparations
for its isolation were not yet complete, and by a little
clever management persons who knew the place and the
country round could usually contrive to elude the vigilance
of the Spanish soldiers.

Otto and Joris had frequently been used in like mis-
sions. They were well qualified for the task, being bold
youths, strong and wiry of frame, active and alert in their
movements, speaking several languages with sufficient
BOIS-LE-DUC. 217

fluency, and remarkably well acquainted with the city and
the surrounding country. They delighted, moreover, in
the variety which such messages brought into their lives.
Within the city there was little stirring. A strange apathy
seemed to have fallen upon the burghers. They had made
up their minds, first, that the winter storms would wreck
the threatened bridge; secondly, that the French would
shortly come to their aid, and render superfluous any
determined effort on their part. Resolute and united in
declining Parma’s overtures, they were resolute and united
in nothing else. There was no well-concerted attack made
upon the bridge, no effort to combine with the Zeelanders
to sweep away the threatened barrier, and undo the long
labour of the industrious enemy. The old Italian in his
dark den laughed mockingly over the pusillanimity of the
citizens, and uttered dark sayings as to what he could
accomplish had they but the wisdom to consult him.
Lionel’s face grew grave and stern. His heart was be-
ginning to despair for his town. He had never placed
any faith in the French negotiation, and it began to be
plain now that if that failed, ruin stared them in the face.
The old Van der Hammer still held that it might yet end
in good. He could not believe that any monarch would
deliberately reject the sovereignty of a kingdom so wealthy
and prosperous as these Provinces might be if once relieved
from the burden of the long war. It was impossible for
any person not in the very heart of the intrigue to under-
stand the deep game of cross-purposes and delusion that
was being played by the Spanish King, the Pope, and the
218 BOIS-LE-DUC.

three parties in France. Lionel felt an instinctive distrust
of the French nation, and a great contempt for the present
feeble monarch; but this feeling was not shared by the
majority of the Antwerp citizens, nor by their great Burgo-
master, and their eyes remained fatally blinded to their
peril.

And now to see the faces of any who had been abroad
in the world was a source of great pleasure to those shut
up in the city; and the diminished party of the double
house crowded about Joris and Otto with words of wel-
come, eagerly questioning them as to how they had come
and what was going on around those walls which were
hemming them in.

“Have you come to stay? Are you to return to the
garrison here? What have you been doing these past
weeks? What is passing in France? Is the sovereignty
of the States accepted by the monarch there? How goes
the bridge? Have you seen aught of that? Tell us all
the news, for we have heard nothing these many days.”

These and a dozen more questions were eagerly showered
upon the brothers as they stood warming themselves at
the stove, and looking with smiling faces on the home
circle. Maud was lighting the lamp, Roosje and Coosje
hastily laying the supper-table; for the travellers must be
refreshed, and there was as yet plenty of food in the city,
although householders were learning to be careful and to
husband their stores. In a dark, sheltered corner, somewhat
‘removed from the group about the stove, stood Alphonso,
his eyes asking for information almost as eagerly as did
BOLIS-LE-DUC. 219

the lips of the others. Joris gave him a smile and a nod;
he shared in the general liking which all felt for their
prisoner. But there was much to talk about and discuss ;
and in a few minutes all were seated round the table, only
waiting till the savoury soup should be lifted from the
fire to commence the last and most social meal of the day.

“T trust you bring good news,” said Lionel, addressing
his brothers-in-law; “I am hungering to hear of some
active enterprise to be undertaken in the cause of liberty.
I am sick at heart with all this long delay, and fearful
that when we wake up to see the errors of our ways, we
shall awake, too, to the fact that our day and our chance
have alike been lost. Come you from Hohenlo? He is
not wont to be idle, albeit something too reckless and
headstrong. Let us have your news; you have not been
sent hither for nothing.”

“We have brought despatches for the Burgomaster.
The States have resolved to make a diversion for the
relief of Antwerp. What say you to the thought of a
dash upon Hertogenbosch? It would be a pretty stroke
to secure that place, for the Prince of Parma derives
large supplies from thence; and if we were to hold it
instead, we could cut off the bulk of his supplies from
reaching him.”

Lionel’s eyes dilated

“Marry, a right good thought!” he cried. “Is that
what Hohenlo proposes ?”

“Yes, verily; and to be done right speedily. There is
no garrison in the town; and albeit the citizens are war-
220 BOIS-LE-DUC.

like and fierce, they will be able to do little against the
trained troops we hope to pour into their gates. Captain
Kleerhagen knows the place well. His wife was a native,
and he is familiar with the whole neighbourhood. He
has reconnoitred the city of late, and declares it to be but
carelessly guarded. A sudden, well-planned surprise, and
a dashing attack such as our Count is famous for, may
carry the whole town at a blow. We have brought ad-
vices of our purpose to the Burgomaster here, whose
military genius none doubt. If he gives his sanction
and approval to the plan, it will be speedily and boldly
put into action. We are to return to-morrow with his
reply.”

“Verily an excellently-devised scheme!” quoth Lionel,
with unwonted eagerness. “It would strike a harder
blow at our great enemy than any attack upon his
palisade from within or without the city, even were men
prepared to make such attack.” And then the young
soldiers, together with old Van der Hammer, drew together
round one corner of the table, and made with the imple-
ments thereon a rough map of the country, demonstrating
to each other the position of the place and the effects its
capture would have upon Parma’s camp, and _ listening
' eagerly to all Joris and Otto had gleaned respecting the
state the town was in, and the chances of a successful
surprise. Not knowing the dwindling and miserable con-
dition of the Spanish troops, their general was severely
commented upon for leaving so important a town without
a garrison; but it was all to the advantage of the patriot
BOIS-LE-DUC. 221

party that this omission had been made, and they intended
to profit by it.

Whilst this hubbub was arising in one portion of the
room, Alphonso, who had taken his customary seat beside
Maud, ventured to lean towards her, and to ask, in a low
voice,—

“What is this Hertogenbosch of which they are all
speaking ?”

“Perhaps you would better know it by the name of
Bois-le-Duc, Sefior, or Bolduc, as we sometimes call it. It
is one of the four chiefest cities of Brabant, and has always
held for your King Philip, though many places around have
come over to our cause. The citizens there are more fierce
and warlike than in any other town in the land, ’tis said;
and it has always been a thriving and prosperous place,
with many manufactures that are held in high repute.”

“ Bois-le-Duc! ah, I well know now what place is
meant! I went there more than once to forage for our
soldiers when we were in need of supplies.” Alphonso’s
face looked rather grave and troubled, for he remembered
once hearing the Prince of Parma say that if Bois-le-Duc
were by any mischance to fall into the enemy’s hands, he
would be forced to give up his attempt to bridge the
Scheldt, and practically abandon the siege of Antwerp.

Maud saw the look of concern upon his face, and said,
with a slight smile——

“TI fear me, Sefior, that our pleasure in these tidings is
no pleasure to you. We feel it hard to remember that in
these things you are our foe, albeit in others—”
222 BOIS-LE-DUC.

“Sweet lady, I would not hear that word from your
lips; it has too harsh a sound. I cannot feel that I am a
foe to those who dwell beneath this roof. Indeed I scarce
know whether I am not half a traitor to my cause in think-
ing as I do. Though there be moments when the old
feelings come back upon me, and when I hear of trouble
and disappointment threatening the Spanish arms, I can
scarce rejoice ; yet I would not rejoice at any trouble that
might overwhelm this threatened city.”

He spoke eagerly, and Maud smiled as their eyes met
for a moment. These whispered confidences and fleeting
glances were beginning to be meat and drink to them both
during these long and colourless days.

“T would not have you a traitor to your cause, Sefior,”
she answered softly, “and methinks you could scarce be
that; yet I am glad that our misfortunes would not
cause you joy. I, too, have learned to respect and admire
your great general, though I cannot wish his success in the
undertaking upon which he has now embarked.”

At that moment Malcolm entered the room, bringing
with him the small and sardonic-looking Gianibelli, who
had of late consented sometimes to emerge from his den,
and, with his daughter, to join the family party in Hooch
Straet. He was keenly interested in the siege—from
a scientific rather than a political standpoint—and entered
with quick vehemence into the argument now going on;
for he was wonderfully versed in all questions of military
and engineering matters, and his quick, irritable speeches
and keen strictures upon the leading men of the day had
BOIS-LE-DUC. 223

a value which Lionel had learned to appreciate. These,
in a more modified fashion, he sometimes echoed; for he
had often found that the Mantuan was a wonderful fore-
caster of the course of public events, although his pro-
phecies were generally on the side of disaster.

Veronica followed her father, and sat between Alphonso
and Malcolm at the supper-table. It was a pleasure to
Alphonso to speak the Italian tongue with her, and she
felt a sympathy and compassion for him as a foreigner and
a prisoner. But there was not much chance of individual
conversation that night, as all thoughts were engrossed by
the theme under discussion.

“Tt is a good enough plan,” said Gianibelli—
enough plan if it do not break down somewhere. But I
_ would it were intrusted to any other commander than that
wild Hohenlo. He will ruin all by his headstrong folly
if he have not greater good fortune than he merits. Vain
young popinjay, with his curling love-locks and_ his
broidered vesture! I have small hope of any good from
such as he. Look how Treslong has befodled the States
and this city! Vain fools and dullards all of them! If
Antwerp would save herself, she had best look to the nature
of the men to whom she intrusts these missions.”

“Yet Hohenlo lacks not for bravery,” answered Otto
eagerly. “He is a very perfect soldier. His men will follow
him anywhere.”

“ Ay, if he will give them plunder enough for their greedy
maws! Phew, boy! any idle popinjay can get a follow-
ing of feather-headed jonkhers to follow him. Doubtless
224 BOILIS-LE-DUC.

his soldiers all hope to sack the town and be rich for life.
Let them beware of the old Belgic ferocity of which Julius
Ceesar wrote, for they say it lingers yet in the burghers
of Bois-le-Duc. Let them beware of that, and be wise and
prudent. Many a victory has been lost by the folly of a
rash young leader.”

“JT could wish some other commander had been chosen,”
said Lionel, with thoughtful brow. “And yet Hohenlo
lacks not for valour, and a dashing enterprise like this
wants a brilliant and courageous commander. Are you
to be numbered amongst the men who will take part in
the expedition?” he added, turning upon the two mes-
sengers, who were appeasing their hunger in Roosje’s sub-
stantial soup.

Joris nodded silently. Otto set down his cup to say,—

“T trow we shall be the first to see the city. So far as
the matter has yet been planned, we are to go amongst the
fifty picked men who are to accompany Captain Kleerhagen
as an advance-guard, to see how an entrance may best be
effected. We have won a reputation, Joris and I, for such
work as this. We are always sent forth as scouts and spies
when there is need of such. We shall be amongst those
who are to try to see if the gate may not be taken by sur-
prise in the night, before the city is well awake. Men say
that there is but a small guard there—that the town rests
secure in the strength of its burgher soldiers; and thus if
we can but surprise it whilst these are as yet scarce awake
we might carry the whole place ata blow. That is our
intention, and that is what Count Hohenlo hopes. Captain
BOIS-LE-DUC. 225

Kleerhagen has been several times to reconnoitre the ground,
and each time he brings back reports which fill us with
assurance of success.”

The Italian raised a skinny brown finger and pointed it
full at the speaker; his dark eyes flashed suddenly and
brilliantly.

“Let your captains have a care, boy, that they be not
too full of assurance—that they count not the day won
when the fight is but half begun! Thus have victories
been lost a hundred times before—ay, and will be a hun-
dred times again! Let them look to it! let them look to
it! Fools of Dutchmen! Their heads are as thick as
their ale—and as weak! Let them look to it! let them
look to it!”

No offence was taken at Gianibelli’s strictures on the
national character. They were all used to scathing words
from the excitable little genius, and put up with it equably,
both on account of their respect for his brilliant intellect
and out of affection for Veronica, whom they all liked and
pitied. Alphonso leaned towards her, and remarked, in a
low tone, that her father did not appear to have acquired
any great opinion of the nation amongst whom he had
elected to take up his abode, and she flashed a quick smile
at him as she made answer,—

“ Ah, Signor, my father has the same fault to find with
them all—his own people, or yours, or these citizens of
Antwerp. To him they are all blind fools; they will not
listen to him. They cannot see that his wisdom is greater
than theirs. I trow there will come a day when they will

(444) 15
226 BOIS-LE-DUC.

be forced to listen to him; but it has not come yet. And
when he travelled to your country it was just the same:
he left it vowing to be avenged on the proud Spaniards
for the insult and contumely they had heaped upon him.
He is still brooding over that threat, albeit I know not if
ever he will carry it out.”

“He is a wonderful man,” struck in Malcolm from the
other side, as he leaned over to get a better view of Vero-
nica’s bright face. “Do you know, Seior, that he threatens
to destroy yon wondrous bridge your countrymen are
building—if, indeed, the ice do not sweep it all away ere
long—by some mysterious measure of his own? What
would your prince think of him if he accomplished his
design ?”

Alphonso smiled slightly. He believed Gianibelli to be
a genius, but he also thought him slightly mad. He did
not fear that any work of his great general’s would be
seriously damaged by the artifice of this obscure Mantuan
mechanician. He knew, of course, much less of him and
his methods than Malcolm did, although he had once visited
his workroom and seen some wonderful contrivances, which,
as the inventor declared, ought to turn the world over, if
men had the sense to appreciate their value and the results
to which they might lead.

“We should say that the devil had been conjured up to
work a miracle for Antwerp,” he answered, smiling. “You
know that we are all good Catholics, and believe in a
devil.”

“We, too, do that, Sefior,” answered Maud, with a touch
BOIS-LE-DUC. 227

of grave severity in her tone; for she thought the reply
savoured of derision for the religion she upheld. “I trow
we have known as much opposition from the devil and his
angels as ever you can have done. We have good cause
to believe in him.”

Alphonso caught 'the accent of reproof in her tone, and
recognized, with a thrill of pleasure, that Maud would fain
have found in him a friend to her religious beliefs, as well
as on other matters. He answered at once with a change
of tone,—

“T crave your pardon, sweet Mistress Maud. I have
learned so many new things these past weeks that it is
hard to keep them all in mind. Time was when I was
taught that all heretics were under the especial protec-
tion of the devil, who regarded them as his own children
and servants. I have learned to think very differently of
late. I pray you, pardon the passing jest.”

“Indeed, Sefior, I crave your pardon if I seemed to
reprove you. It is not for a woman to assume the office
of teacher.”

“ Nay, say not so, lady,” answered the young man, with
sudden earnestness ; “it is from such lips as yours that I
would fain be taught.”

Maud dropped her eyes, and a soft colour stole into her
cheeks. None else at table noticed the little by-play
between those two; all were eagerly discussing the pro-
posed expedition save, perhaps, Malcolm and Veronica, who
were talking low together over some equally engrossing
theme.
228 BOILS-LE-DUC.

The juffrouw Van der Hammer had seated herself be-
tween her two boys, Joris and Otto, and kept looking
hungrily into their faces with the pathetic wistfulness of a
mother who receives her sons back from a life of constant
peril, and knows that they are shortly going forth again
to encounter danger from which they’ may never return.
Trained as were the Dutch people of those days to look
upon death and loss calmly and resignedly, the mother-
spirit is the same in all ages; and though no word of mur-
muring escaped her lips, the good woman’s heart was
heavy within her. Young Philip Wilford had gone forth
in health and strength to face the foe, and had come back
only to die. Perchance of those two brave lads of hers
one might never return from the undertaking so eagerly
planned and discussed. True, she had said the same many
times before, and still her own circle remained unbroken.
Yet hers was almost the only family in the city, so far as
she knew, that had not paid its tribute to the bloody war ;
and she often asked herself, with a shuddering sigh, how
long she could send forth her boys to fight on the side of
freedom and receive them back safe and sound as heretofore.

Demonstrations of affection were not common in that
household, closely as its members were bound together ;
but to-night the mother would slip her hand beneath the
table, and seek for the hand of one or other of her sons,
and press it with a soft touch. The pressure would always
be returned, and the young men would turn a smiling
glance upon the little wrinkled face of their mother. They
knew how she must feel; but they had too much of the
BOLS-LE-DUC. 229

soldier spirit in them to be overmuch affected them-
selves by the knowledge of the daily peril in which they
stood. Skirmishes with the enemy were matters of daily
occurrence, though the life within the city was too mono-
tonous to be to their taste. They had had many narrow
escapes from capture or death. They had been under fire
oftener than they could count, and had grown up more or
less with the smoke of guns in their nostrils. It was
nothing but pleasure to them to think of the proposed ex-
pedition ; and as they bid their mother good-night before
retiring to their room for a brief night’s rest, they told her
to keep a brave heart, for they were well assured they
were going to strike a great blow in the cause of freedom,
and that if Bois-le-Due once fell into their hands they
might well set Parma and his bridge at defiance, for he
could scarce continue his work so fettered and harassed as
he would then be.

The hearts of all the household were full of hope when
the young men started off in the dark of a cold January
morning, with their despatches safe beneath their leather
jJerkins. They knew so well now how to elude the enemy’s
outposts, and slip in and out of the city at will, that no
anxiety on that score was entertained. It was the thought
of the surprise or assault to be made on Bois-le-Duc that
was exercising the minds of all. There was always some
loss even when victory crowned the day; and it was felt
that Joris and Otto would certainly be in the forefront of
the danger, whatever it might be. The evil auguries of
the wily old Italian were in the minds of all. They did
230 BOIS-LE-DUC.

not look upon him by any manner of means as a prophet.
At the same time, he was a shrewd critic of men, and a
keen observer of the ways of the world; and both the
Wilford and Van der Hammer families had come to have
a certain distrust of their leaders since the death of the
great Prince who had held them all together and assisted
them with his counsel and advice. There was no one who
would not listen to words of counsel from William the
Silent, but many were impatient of the smallest control
from anybody else. Admiral Treslong had already shown
that spirit of insubordination which had been so fatal to
the victualling of Antwerp; and it was well known that
Count Hohenlo, though a‘brave soldier and stanch patriot,
was reckless, impulsive, and self-willed, and would not be
counselled or guided. Handsome, dashing, and daring, he
had the knack of inspiring his soldiers with courage to do
and dare; but many other qualities necessary for a success-
ful general were lacking to him, and he was not the man
to whom the Prince of Orange would, in all probability,
have intrusted this important assault.

Perhaps this fact was in the mind of Joris and Otto as,
with the little company of fifty picked soldiers, they cau-
tiously drew near to the walls of the city, and halted in
the dark at about a bow-shot from the Antwerp gate.

They were under Captain Kleerhagen, who knew every
foot of the country round, and who halted his little band
in a wooded hollow where they could picket their horses
in something like comfort—for there was shelter from the
biting wind and abundance of dead leaves for bedding—
BOILIS-LE-DUC. 231

and then selected six of his band to accompany him in a
stealthy approach to the gate itself.

Joris and Otto were both numbered in this six, and as
they cautiously crept from the hollow, their captain told
them that between the drawbridge and the portcullis at
this Antwerp gate there stood two small guard-houses,
which, as he had discovered before when reconnoitring,
were invariably left empty, probably because their close
proximity to the walls made the guard careless of them,
thinking that no enemy would dare to approach so near.
Their own present mission was to discover whether these
houses were still empty and unguarded, as they had been
hitherto ; and if so, to take possession of them, and grad-
ually summon the remainder of the fifty until the whole
of the little band was ensconced there. If this could be
done, the success of the enterprise would, in his opinion, be
secured. For in the morning, so soon as the guard drew
up the portcullis, the ambushed fifty would spring out
upon them, put them to the sword, and secure possession
of the gate. A messenger would be sent immediately to
Hohenlo, who was encamped as near to the city as he had
dared to approach with his larger force. He would gallop
in at the head of his troops, and the city would be theirs.
Without regular soldiers, the citizens, taken by surprise in
the dark dawn of a winter’s day, would be able to do
nothing. Bois-le-Due would fall an easy prey, and there
was great hope that Parma’s whole scheme would be frus-
trated.

Cautiously crept this little company of six through
232 BOIS-LE-DUC.

the shadows of the night. The city walls loomed up
before them; the waters of the moat lay gleaming sul-
lenly below. There was no moon, but a few stars twinkled
mistily in the sky, and gave just a gleam of light. Nearer
and nearer crept the little knot of moving creatures to
those small houses just visible to them through the murky
darkness. No light shone out from them; no sound of
challenge was in the air. With hushed footfall and bated
breath they drew nearer and nearer, and found them—
empty !

“ Now Heaven be praised for a happy beginning
Captain Kleerhagen, though still in a low voice, as the
little party stood within those sheltering walls. “Now to
get the remainder of our fifty here to join us—Joris Van
der Hammer, wilt thou be the one to summon them here ?
Use all silence and discretion, but let them come, and we
_will divide into two companies, one in either of these
walled shelters, and we will wait then for morning light

1”

spoke

and the opening of the city gate.”

Joris gladly undertook the task, and before an hour had
passed the whole of the fifty ambushed soldiers had en-
sconced themselves within these two small guard-houses
close to the gate, and lying down upon their cloaks they
waited for the tardy dawn.

Before the day had shown itself, save by a gray glimmer
in the east, the little band was awake and alert. Each
soldier had brought food with him, and a hasty meal was
quickly and quietly despatched. Thus refreshed, they
girded their arms about them, and looked well to their
BOILIS-LE-DUC. 233

weapons, and then waited with what patience they could
command for the first act of the drama upon which so
much depended. .

When the first sounds of life were heard from behind
the heavy gate, a thrill ran through the little company.
Captain Kleerhagen was standing with his drawn sword in
his hand, close to the door of one of the guard-houses,
although hidden in deep shadow. Another officer held a
like position on the other side, and the little band, weapon
in hand, awaited the action of their chiefs with intense
though repressed eagerness.

Dawn was just breaking clear and red as the sound of
the creaking made by the drawing up of the portcullis fell
upon their ears. The patriots watched in breathless silence
the rise of the great barred portal; and when this had
been fastened up in position, the guard leisurely sauntered
forth to reconnoitre.

It was plain they looked for no foe at their gates.
They were laughing and chatting to each other, and swing-
ing their arms to and fro to restore circulation. They had
had a cold night-watch to keep, and were glad to think
that their time was nearly ended. They little knew how
very near was the end of their time of service in this
world!

With one quick bound Captain Kleerhagen sprang out
from the open portal and drove his sword through the
heart of the foremost man of the watch, his soldiers follow-
ing him in perfect silence, but each dealing a fatal blow as
he fell upon his astonished and unprepared antagonist. It
234 BOIS-LE-DUC.

was a grim work, and it took but a few minutes to accom-
plish. Every man of the night-watch lay dead or dying
upon the ground. The gate of the city was in the hands
of the patriots!

With a flushed face and sparkling eyes Captain Kleer-
hagen turned to his little company.

“ Well done, my men!” he cried, as he waved his sword
above his head. “Bois-le-Duc is ours; and as our great
Count Hohenlo has promised, the spoil of the city shall be
to the gallant soldiers who follow him. Go then, some
of you, and summon him in haste; tell him that all is
well.—Corporal, remain you here with two or three men
to hold the gate; and as for us, we will march forward into
the city and show them that we are masters here!”

Joris and Otto, fleet of foot and always ready for any
such service, had started off to summon the Count and his
body of troops lying concealed not far away almost before
the sentence was finished; yet the words of Kleerhagen
were borne back to them on the wind, and as they ran
Joris said anxiously to his brother—

“T trust they will not act rashly. It had been better
to await the coming of the rest of the troops. Neverthe-
less they be so hard by that we shall doubtless quickly
join them. Yet I would that they had not put into the
minds of the men that thought of loot and plunder. There
will be more work to do ere we can call the city ours. It
will be time to tell the men of plunder when it is really
won.”

“T love not the plunder of our brethren, even though
BOIS-LE-DUC. 235

they take part with our foes,” said Otto. “But yonder
lies the army, and here comes a lancer galloping out to
meet us. In a few moments more the Count will be in
the city.”

The young men gave their message, which was received
with shouts and cheers. The handsome and dashing
Hohenlo sprang upon the back of his big white charger,
and galloped off at the head of two hundred horsemen, his
golden locks floating in the breeze, his face all aglow with
anticipated triumph. Five hundred pikemen on foot clat-
tered after him as fast as they could march; but the main
part of the army—two thousand troopers under Colonel
Ysselstein—still remained in ignorance of the movements
of their companions, as they had halted at a somewhat
greater distance from the neighbourhood of the city.

“T trust all will be well,” said one brother to the other
as they hurried back towards the gate, fearful lest this
eagerness in the beginning might prove false policy in the
end. But no; all was well. The city had not yet awak-
ened to the fact that deadly peril menaced it. The gate
stood open, with the corporal and his two men-at-arms
guarding it, and the slain guard lying around still and
motionless.

Hohenlo, spurring his snorting horse over the prostrate
bodies with that needless brutality which characterized so
many of the leaders even of the righteous cause, waved
his sword above his head, shouting, “ Victory! victory!”
And his men, taking up the ery, ran or galloped madly
along the quiet streets, echoing the shouts of triumph
236 BOIS-LE-DUC.

uttered by the Count, and full of thoughts of pillage and
plunder.

Joris and Otto made no attempt to join in this mad
rush, but followed more slowly in the wake of the pikemen.
They had not often been present at the assault of a city,
but the words of the Italian kept recurring to them, and
they said one to another,—

“Pray Heaven we be not too confident that the day
is already ours, and lose our head in this tumult! I like
not this way of taking a city. We are too scattered and
disordered to meet and repel an attack if it be made. This
is not how the Prince of Orange would have led us.”
CHAPTER XII.
A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

« ICTORY !”-— Victory !”—“ Gained city !”—“Down
V with the power of Spain !”—“ Death to all traitors
to the cause !”—* Victory !”—“ Victory !”

The streets were ringing with these shouts. Hohenlo
and his horsemen were sweeping through the hardly-awak-
ened town. The terrified citizens were roused from their
slumbers by the bursting in of their doors and the savage
shouts of greedy soldiers, demanding their money and their
treasure. Women and children ran shrieking out of houses,
yet knew not whither to run. Enraged though frightened,
the citizens were hastily arming themselves, and emerging
with faces full of wrath and wonder into the streets full of
lancers and pikemen. And as each door was opened some
of the soldiers rushed in with shouts and cries to see what
plunder there was for them to seize; and thus by degrees
the army seemed to melt away and disperse, whilst in the
great market-place the citizens commenced to muster with
a unanimity that had something threatening in its aspect.
So dire was the confusion and so great the tumult that it
was impossible to say rightly what was passing; but Joris
238 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

and Otto grew more and more uneasy, for as they took no
part in these scenes of plunder, they had time to observe
the attitude of the burghers; and Joris, turning to his
brother, said at last,—

“ Otto, I like it not. This is not generalship—to give a
city to pillage before it is taken. These bold men are not
conquered yet. See how they gather more and more in
the streets, every one of them armed to the teeth! Look
at their faces! There is more of rage than fear to be seen
in them. I greatly fear there is mischief brewing. It is as
the Italian said—the Count is too headstrong and reckless.
But to lose all when it is within our grasp is too much!
Otto, has word been sent, know you, to Colonel Ysselstein,
to come up quickly with his two thousand? I truly fear
that these few hundred soldiers, mad with greed and love
of plunder, and dispersed hither and thither throughout
the town, will make but little stand if these bold citizens
once rally for an attack. We ought to have the reserve
up and within the gates. Have they been sent to, to
hasten hither, knowest thou ?”

“T heard none order given,” answered Otto; “all were
for rushing into the city. Joris, I am fleeter-footed than
thou. Shall I myself run and give notice to them that it
were well the whole force should be within the walls, and
speak of what we have seen? Colonel Ysselstein is a
good soldier, and keeps his men well under command. I
trow if they were here all would be well.”

“Ay, go; go as fast as thy feet will carry thee. If
thou canst find a stray horse, so much the better. Go and
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 239

bid them come quickly, for I fear evil will befall us yet.
They are shouting ‘Victory!’ all down the streets, but
methinks they are something too confident.”

“TI will go this instant,” answered Otto, who was glad
enough to find some errand whereby he might perhaps
serve his country; for these scenes of pillage and riot
were little to his liking, and his heart misgave him that
ill would follow if they did not speedily find themselves
supported by their reserves. He sped towards the gate
again as fast as his feet could carry him, and as he reached
it he was eagerly hailed by the corporal in charge there
and his two companions, who asked what was passing in
the city.

“The soldiers are mad with loot and plunder,” answered
Otto, scarcely pausing as he darted past. “I fear me there
will be mischief ere long if this go on. I am off to bring
in the reserves; they should have had warning before.”

Otto was gone before more could be said, and in the
distance the shouts of the soldiers, as they rushed hither
and thither in their thirst for plunder, faintly reached the
ears of the corporal and his comrades.

“Faith, they will rifle the town ere we get a chance of
our share of booty,” cried the men one to another. “Why
should we be the only ones of all the band that are left
out when there is spoil to be gotten? By Heaven it shall
not be! We will not be cheated thus. We have done
our share of duty here. Now it is our turn to join in the
sacking of the city. It is in our hands. We will not be
defrauded of our rightful plunder.”
240 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

Thus talking one to the other, the men grew more dis-
contented and more eager after plunder. The distant yells
and shouts of their comrades rose ever louder and louder
in their ears.

“There is naught to do here,” they said, looking each
other in the face, and reading confirmation of their wishes
in the eyes of their comrades. “All yon men be dead as
door-nails. The reserves will be here in the twinkling of
an eye. Otto Van der Hammer runs like the wind, and
they will not be slow to follow him when they know the
city is ours and has been given up to plunder. Why
should we stay here and lose our share? When the two
thousand have come our chance will be wonderfully dimin-
ished.” And as that thought came into their minds they
hesitated no longer, but tore away from their post to join
in the general scrimmage that was going on in the city.

Meantime Joris, left by his brother in the streets, was
anxious to find Count Hohenlo, and try, if it were possible,
to communicate some of his fears to him. It seemed
to the young soldier that all the world had gone mad,
and the leader as much as his followers; but he was
more and more convinced that the city was far from being
taken, for there was a determined march of well-armed
citizens in one direction. Joris followed unnoticed in the
wake of three or four hurrying burghers, and as he moved
he heard the words they spoke one to another,—

“Tf they be not already gone, they will serve us in our
need right well. The Seigneur de Haultepenne will not
leave us to be plundered by these rebel beggars. Our
A DEAD MAWN’S HAND. 241

Governor has gone forth to try to stop him, and we are
summoned under arms to meet him in—”

“Haultepenne!” cried another voice, eagerly interrupt-
ing. “What say you of Haultepenne? Is that great
warrior within the city now 2”

“Unless he has departed with the first of the morning
light, he is,” was the quick reply. “Know you not that
a great train of costly merchandise was sent into the city
yesterday ?”

“T had heard somewhat of it, but—”

“But not that the Seigneur Haultepenne and some
seventy soldiers had accompanied it to insure its safety
through the disturbed country? Ah well, but so it was.
As I hear, there should be some forty lancers and perhaps
the same number of foot-soldiers, all armed and together,
about to sally forth from the town, their work being now
done. Pray Heaven they be not yet gone! With them
to lead us we may yet drive the rabble horde out of the
city. Come, let us hasten and see. Let yon greedy rebels
glut themselves with plunder in their mad security, Bolduc
will teach them a lesson yet! Onward then, all good
citizens! We will show them what we can yet do in
defence of our honour and our homes!”

Joris heard, no more, but dropped back and let the
citizens hurry past him. A look of dismay, almost of
despair, was on his face.

Well did he know the name of Haultepenne, one of the
Spanish king’s most famous warriors, a man of the
greatest courage and experience. Was he indeed in the

(444) 16
242 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

city, and with a small but gallant and compact band of
troopers with him? Joris threw up his hands with a
gesture of desperation. True, they had above five hundred
soldiers in the town, and the citizens would scarce muster
half that force at so brief a notice; but Joris was soldier
enough to know how little can be done with men dispersed
and bent on loot and plunder when they suddenly find
themselves attacked and forced to fight an unexpected
foe. With desperation in his heart he turned and flew
along the streets in the direction of the loudest sounds and
cries. The sun was rising over the town, and lighting
up streets full of rioters and their victims. Murder was
not in the hearts of the soldiers. These people were their
own countrymen, and they wished them no bodily harm.
But they had allied themselves with the cause of the
Spanish king, and in that way had become their foes, so
that to plunder them of their goods seemed but a fair
retaliation ; and when the spirit of greed is awakened, the
sense of mercy and compassion becomes instantly blunted.
Therefore, although there was no actual carnage, there
were scenes sufficiently harrowing and brutal going on all
around—women and children rushing shrieking from
their houses, often pursued by coarse ruffians desirous of
obtaining some booty from them or of enjoying their
fright and dismay.

Joris turned away with loathing from the sights he saw,
and as he pursued his rapid way he kept asking every one
who looked fit to give a rational answer where Count
Hohenlo was to be found. Directed first in this direction
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 243

and then in that, he was some time in coming upon the
object of his search; but at last he saw the golden curls
of the handsome captain floating behind him as he rode
hither and thither with his drawn sword in his hand; and
making a dash through the crowd and flinging himself
almost beneath the feet of his prancing charger, he suc-
ceeded in attracting the attention of the rider.

“How now, boy? Dost want speech of me? Hast
come with news?”

Joris and Otto were well known as messengers whenever
speed and despatch were required, and had been used by
the Count of late in matters of like kind. Therefore he
was ready to rein in his horse and hear what Joris had
to say, when another youth equally humble might have
been ignored at such a moment.

“My Captain, there is trouble coming upon us,” said
Joris, speaking in a low and rapid tone. “I pray you lose
not a moment in summoning your soldiers around you and
putting them into a position of defence. In a few moments
more we shall be attacked by some well-armed troopers
under the Seigneur de Haultepenne. Look round, I pray
you, and see if your men are ready to repel a fierce on-
slaught even from a small force.”

Count Hohenlo changed colour, and a flash of dismay
came into his eyes.

“ Haultepenne—troopers! Boy, art thou dreaming?
This town is without a garrison.”

“T know that, sir; but its citizens are strong and fierce,
and well armed. All they want is a leader, and they
244 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

have found him in the veteran I have named. The
Seigneur de Haultepenne, by what I gather, came yester-
day into the city escorting a train of merchandise, and
some fourscore soldiers with him. I fear me they be still
within the walls, and the burghers are hastening to put
themselves beneath his command. I only stayed to hear
that much, and have since been striving to find you, that
I might warn you of the threatened peril. Ah me! I
fear my message comes too late. Hark to those sounds !”

The handsome, daring face of Hohenlo turned grim and
pale as certain ominous sounds smote upon his ear. All
in a moment the wild shouts of victorious triumph were
merged in yells of fear, pain, and rage. There was a
rattling of musketry, too steady and concentrated to come
from the scattered looters, who had many of them thrown
away their arms the better to secure their booty, and
almost immediately rose cries of terror and rage mingled
with the shout which does more to unman soldiers than
anything else,—

“Treachery ! treachery !—we are betrayed !”

Count Hohenlo, with all his faults, did not lack for
courage, and the hint just received from Joris explained
to him in a moment what had happened. His triumph-
ant soldiers, who had thought to plunder before they
had really taken the city, found themselves confronted
by a compact little band commanded by a well-known
and much-dreaded general. Terror seized upon them, and
the wildest confusion; but their captain hoped to rally
them by the influence of his presence and command. He
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 245

knew that their enemies could not be more than a handful
compared with the seven hundred men he had _ himself
brought into the city; and riding to and fro, he shouted to
his soldiers to fall into order and make a phalanx to resist
the coming onslaught, choosing a position which gave de-
cided advantages to him, and instructing his subordinates
to muster their men quickly and form up.

He might as well have spoken to the winds of heaven
as to his panic-stricken soldiers. Some were for escaping
with their load of plunder; others thought only of saving
their own lives, and flung down their burdens as they had
before flung down their arms, rushing madly along the
streets, not knowing, many of them, whither they were
going. The angry shouts of their captains had only the
effect of increasing the terror and confusion; and though
Hohenlo struck more than one man dead on the spot to
rally and inspire the rest with his spirit, he only succeeded
in alarming them more and increasing the rout tenfold.
Already the measured tramp of veteran troops was heard
approaching, and words of command in the Spanish tongue
proved beyond all possibility of mistake that their redoubt-
able foe was upon them. The vague terror now became
absolute panic. The men were beyond all reason, and
fled helter-skelter in all directions. Hohenlo, in a fury
of rage, disappointment, and apprehension, set spurs to
his horse and dashed off in the direction of the gate
through which they had entered with such feelings of
triumph only a brief time before, to summon the reserves
and crush in the bud this spirited rising of citizens who
246 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

ought to have submitted to be pillaged and robbed without
resistance.

Joris, remembering how ineffectually the gate was
guarded, set off in the wake of the rider as fast as his feet
would carry him; but his progress was impeded by the
confusion in the streets, and he quickly lost sight of the
white charger, though he continued to push on as fast as
possible to the support of the three men who were now of
such manifest importance to the little army. For he saw
at a glance that if once the citizens became possessed again
of the portal, the day would indeed be lost. The reserves
would never get in; and the scattered hundreds, mad with
terror, who were rushing wildly about in search of escape,
quite forgetting in their confusion the direction of the
gate, would be leisurely massacred by the Spanish soldiers
and the fierce citizens, neither of which party at such a
juncture would be likely to show mercy to the freebooters
who had been making such havoe of the town.

It would have been well for the patriots had their leader
had as much foresight and coolness of judgment as this
young soldier. Hohenlo, mad with rage and desperation,
and half blind with the speed at which he was urging on
his excited horse, dashed through the gate without even
observing that it was entirely unguarded; or if he observed
he did not heed, and took no step to replace the guard
before sallying forth on his errand. Perhaps he thought
the reserves close at hand; probably he was in too reck-
less a mood to think or notice. Be that as it may, he
galloped away through the yawning portal, and hardly
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 247

had he passed through before there was a slight movement
among the motionless forms of the slain guard lying stiff
and ghastly upon the ground, and an old man, fearfully
wounded but not actually dead, lifted his head and looked
about him.

This man was an old citizen of Bois-le-Duc whose duty
it was to let down or to draw up the portcullis. He had
been struck down with the rest of the guard, and left for
dead ; but there was life in him yet, and perhaps the thud
of the flying horse-hoofs had helped to rouse him from
his stupor, for he looked after Hohenlo, and then slowly
crawled to his hands and knees. He gazed around him.
His dead companions lay upon the ground, the cold sun-
light of a January morning lighted up the whole scene,
and there was not a living being in sight save that solitary
horseman fleeing as if for his very life.

In the distance shouts and yells proclaimed some great
tumult in the city. A gleam of recollection and intelli-
gence lighted up the drawn and ghastly face of the old
man, and a look of grim resolution awoke in the dim eyes.

“The Blessed Saints and the Holy Virgin be with me,”
murmured the old man through his parched lips. “Let
me strike one blow against the foe ere I die.”

He closed his eyes a moment, either in silent prayer or
to summon up resolution to trail his mangled body over
the hard stones, and then with many subdued groans he
crawled painfully and slowly towards the great portcullis
which had so long been his care. Drawing from his belt
a short, sharp dagger, he cut the rope that held it in
248 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

position, and in another moment down came hurtling the
grim portal, and the old man looked at it with a smile of
sardonic joy.

“Once again!” he murmured; “Heaven send me the
strength!” And moving with infinite difficulty, he crawled
to the other side and severed the remaining rope, cutting
it clean through in both cases, so that no one might raise
the portal again until fresh ropes had been provided and
adjusted.

“ Heaven be praised, they are trapped like rats! Holy
Mother of God, receive my soul,” breathed the old man,
lying down again in the dust with his open knife in his
hand; and in another moment his eyes glazed over, a quiver
passed through his limbs, and he quietly expired.

But the blow inflicted by that dead man’s hand was felt
through the length and breadth of the Netherlands. For
Parma confessed to his royal master that had Bois-le-Duc
fallen into the hands of the patriots, he must have abandoned
the siege of Antwerp; and had Antwerp been saved, the
whole story of the next years had been vastly different.
But through another of those inexplicable blunders with
which the story of the siege of Antwerp teems, the mad
folly of some person in command rendered abortive the
most promising and successful undertakings. Bois-le-Duc
should by this time have been in the hands of the patriots ;
they had surprised it, and it had lain- practically at their
mercy. Their mad folly had caused them to make a fatal
blunder, and now—

Joris came dashing up to the gate, panting and breath-
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 249

less, only five minutes after Hohenlo had dashed through ;
and what did he find? The guard gone, the place soli-
tary and silent; but the portcullis down—an old man
lying dead beside it with an open dagger-like knife in his
hand, a grim smile upon his dead face telling to Joris’s
heated imagination its own story of triumph and revenge.

“God in His mercy help us!” cried the youth when he
saw the state of affairs, and the hopelessness of raising
that great iron barrier; “they will drive them into this
trap and slay them like sheep in the shambles. And what
will it boot if our two thousand come to our aid, when
they be on one side of this barrier and we on the other ?”

And then Joris looked about for some way of escape
for himself. He was no coward, as he had proved a hun-
dred times before; but to stay here to be slain in an in-
glorious rout was no proof either of courage or devotion.
He could serve his country perchance by his life; his
death within the walls of Bois-le-Duc would profit nothing.
He was sick at heart with disappointment and grief, and
bitterly, bitterly outraged by the utter lack of discipline
shown by the leaders of this expedition. He was ashamed
at that moment of his own country and his own country-
men. What wonder that the far-seeing Italian had sneer-
ingly prognosticated failure? It seemed now as though
the war were nothing but one long blunder.

But there was no time now for moralizing; the yells
and screams, shouts and curses, proclaimed the fact that
the attacking-party of an hour before was flying helter-
skelter for the gate. In a few moments there would be
250 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

terrible carnage there; the slaughter of the guard at day-
break would be amply avenged. Joris gave one quick
look round him, and darted up one of the turrets that
flanked the gate. It gave him access to the roof of the
place, from whence an outlook along the road could be ob-
tained. Far in the distance a cloud of dust bespoke the
approach of the reserves; but they had come just half-an-
hour too late.

Below, some thirty or forty feet, lay the moat, gleaming
sullen and black. Joris was an expert gymnast and a
strong swimmer. His resolution was soon taken. Putting
off his heavier accoutrements, he sprang boldly off the tur-
ret and into the water, swimming easily across, and reach-
ing the other bank in good time to see the advancing
troops gallop up to the gate, Count Hohenlo and Colonel
Ysselstein being foremost of the mounted band who led
the reserves.

They advanced with shouts, as was the way of the fiery
Count; but as they suddenly reined in before this unex-
pected obstruction, their faces grew dark and blank.

Within the gate they heard the shouts and yells of the
hunted soldiers, as they were being driven mercilessly to
their death; and there were they on the other side, help-
less to move hand or foot in their assistance, that grim
iron grating standing between—an impassable barrier that

-needed other weapons than any they had brought with
them to break it down.

Truly it was a fearful moment for the patriot army.
They had come in the hopes of an easy victory, and now
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 251

some hundreds of their best troops were being helplessly
massacred within the walls of the city they had been loot-
ing and triumphing over but a brief while before. Gnash-
ing his teeth in impotent fury, the Count turned upon
Joris, who had effected a landing, and was trying to rescue
from the muddy ooze the arms he had flung over before
he made his own spring.

“At least thou art safe, boy; thou art not caught in
yon accursed trap. How has this misfortune chanced ?
How came it that the gate fell into the hands of the
enemy ?”

“I know nothing of that—I can but guess; but I
fear me the guard deserted their post in the hope of gain
and plunder. When you rode through, methinks they
must already have fled, for I was not long behind, and
they had then gone. There was no sign of them, and the
ropes of yon portcullis had been cut through by one of the
guard we had left for dead.”

“A curse upon him! a murrain upon this city! Was
ever day so untoward! Great Heavens, how shall we go
back to tell the tale? I would almost rather have been
cut to pieces on the other side! Ah, my brave men, your
bravery will serve you little now! A plague upon those
crafty burghers! the foul fiend fly away with every one
of them !”

Tt was easy to curse the citizens and evil fortune, but
the sting of the thing lay in the consciousness of his own
folly, as he very well knew. Joris stood by, sad at heart
and scarce able to rejoice in his own escape from those
252 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

shambles, so ashamed did he feel of the egregious blunder
which had caused the disaster of the day. Victory actu-
ally within their grasp, and their triumph to be turned into
disgrace! It was heart-rending and shameful. He scarce
knew how he should go home and tell the tale; and yet
Antwerp must learn how the day had gone.

Few indeed of those who had rushed into the city at
daybreak, shouting victory, lived to return to their com-
rades. A few escaped as Joris had done, many others
were drowned whilst attempting a like feat in other parts
of the walls, and many more were cut to pieces before
they could make the desired spring. Captain Kleerhagen
had a wonderful escape, for he sprang from off the roof of
Holy Cross church, whither he had fled, and with all his
armour upon him; but he succeeded in getting safe to
shore. It was a mournful and dejected band that turned
back at last to Gertruydenberg. There was no hope now
of taking the place by surprise, and to attempt a siege was
hopeless. Covered with shame and sick at heart with
vexation, the leaders led back their troops whence they
had come, to hear the men murmur amongst themselves
that these things did not happen when the Prince of
Orange was alive. Such statements were broad, and
might not be altogether endorsed by fact—mistakes and
misfortunes are always possible when great undertakings
are on foot; but there was sufficient truth in the stricture
to leave a sting, and Count Hohenlo was perhaps more
absolutely humiliated than he had ever been in his life
before. Well for Antwerp would it have been had he
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 253

taken to heart the lesson he should have learned that day
before the walls of Bois-le-Duc!

But at least Joris and Otto had both escaped, and yet
the peril of the former had been great. They were told
off to convey the ill tidings to Antwerp, and pursued their
way thither with heavy hearts, wondering how the news
would be taken, and whether they would ever be the
bearers of good tidings to that city.

They entered it at length after dusk, finding the dark-
ness the best time for escaping the vigilance of the Spanish
outposts stationed all around. To the Burgomaster first,
then to their own home, must they repair; and before an
hour had passed all the city knew that the expedition
from which so much had been expected had been a lament-
able failure.

“ Failure we could have borne, but this savours of dis-
grace!” said Lionel sternly, as the news was discussed at
home. “It is too much that we should be made the laugh-
ing-stock of the world! To fling away the cause for
which a hundred thousand lives have been sacrificed for
the sake of the paltry spoil of a single town! Faugh!
the thought sickens one! Well does old Gianibelli say
that there was not an ounce of brains in the head of any
of our leaders! Oh for one hour of the Great William !
What would not he have said to such an ending as
this!”

There were consternation and sorrow in the city that
night, and nowhere more than in Hooch Stract—the won-
derful escape of Joris, where so many in like case had
254 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

fallen victims, being the one ray of brightness which light-
ened their grief.

But one pair of fierce eyes gleamed triumphantly as the
news was told, and there was one heart in that house
which beat high with exultation and cruel delight. Diego
took little pains to conceal the scornful triumph in his
heart from those by whom he was surrounded; but few
had time or thought to spare for his insolent words or
exultant looks, which Alphonso strove in vain to check.

Diego held that no gratitude or courtesy was due from
him to the “greasy burgher folk” who had befriended
him. It was honour enough for them to sit at table with
nobles of Spain. If they wished him to veil his senti-
ments in order to please them—well, they might wish it.
He would as soon think of flying as of considering their
feelings.

But nobody noticed greatly what the sullen Spaniard
said or did, and perhaps this indifference galled him more
than he would have confessed. It was considered a Chris-
tian duty to behave with clemency towards the prisoners
they had befriended, and Diego was still lame, whilst
Alphonso was only very gradually recovering the strength
which had been so utterly prostrated. Neither was he in
condition to endure with impunity the hardships of a
prison life; and the family who had so long sheltered them
had never given up the feeling that some day, should mis-
fortune befall them in the capture of one of their party,
they might exchange prisoners, and get their loved one
back by means of one of these captives. So that there
A DEAD MAN'S HAND. 255

was policy as well as generosity in the motive which
prompted Lionel and his father-in-law to retain the per-
sons of the youths, whose presence there had already been
forgotten by the authorities; and though Diego sneered
and flouted at the thought of being a guest of an Antwerp
citizen, he knew well that he had much to be thankful for
in his present quarters. He now fared well every day
of his life. And none knew better than he how much
depended upon regular and sufficient nourishment. If
scarcity became greater in the city later on, a Spanish
prisoner would hardly be like to get more than enough to
keep body and soul together.

But gratitude was not a prevailing characteristic with
Diego, and to-night he took no pains to conceal his inso-
lence. The party for the most part had no thought to
spare for him; but there was one member of the house-
hold who noted his every word and action, and presently
the youngest daughter of the Van der Hammer family
drew near to the warm corner which was generally selected
by their guest for his own place.

Coosje had been rather fascinated from the first by the
sullen, haughty Diego ; but it was by no means a fascina-
tion of attraction. She felt something as a bird might
do with the gleaming eyes of the snake upon it; and yet
that simile hardly applies either, for she did not fear the
dark-browed man one whit, nor had he ever appeared to
take any note of her presence. He held aloof from all in
insolent arrogance, and unless directly addressed by one
of the heads of the house, spoke no word to any save
256 A DEAD MAN’S HAND.

Alphonso. All this was rather fascinating to watch—at
least so thought this little maiden, who had seldom had
any new study of human character to amuse her, and
who thought that this Spaniard was certainly the strangest
being she had ever come across.

After the supper that evening, as she moved about her
daily duties as usual, she passed by him from time to time,
and each time he was striving to get Alphonso to join with
him in his insolent strictures on Dutchmen for their mili-
tary prowess, for their blunders and their blindness. Al-
phonso was not responsive, but that did not check Diego's
flow of words, and as he elected to speak in Dutch instead
of Spanish, it was plain that he intended others than his
companion to hear. Passing by him for the fourth or
fifth time, and still hearing the same sort of language, she
paused for a moment with her cloth in her hand, and
looked straight up at him with a little sparkle in her dark
eyes.

“Pray, tell me, Sefior, for my instruction, are those
Spanish manners—the manners of which we ignorant
Dutch folk hear so much ?”

He was so astonished at the question that he remained
silent. Keen and quick-witted, he saw in a moment the
implied rebuke, and felt very much as a tiger might do if
a dove were to set upon and attack it.

“For if so,’ continued Coosje, very clearly and quietly,
“JT think we homely people of Antwerp may be thankful
we have different manners here. We need not envy the
blue blood of the nobles of Spain.”
A DEAD MAN’S HAND. 257

She passed on without another word or look, or with-
out waiting for a reply. Diego bit his lip, and a dark
flush crept into his cheek ; but he made no response, and
Alphonso remarked in their own tongue,—

“A good rebuke indeed, Diego! I marvel thou canst
disgrace thy manhood by such—”

“Have a care, Alphonso; I am none too patient with
this ache in my bones and this hateful cold. I will not
be hectored by thee.”

“Thou wouldst rather be rebuked by our hosts! I call
it shame that thou dost treat them so.”

“T rebuked, and by a chit of a child!”

“Child or no, she did rebuke thee; and thou didst well
merit it. Have a care that thou give not cause for it
again ; I think she would not spare thee.”

Diego said no more, and subsided into silence for the
remainder of the evening; but he kept shooting sidelong
glances at Coosje and her spinning-wheel during the time
that remained to them, and sometimes as she raised her
eyes from her task she caught one of his dark flashing
glances,

(444) 17
CHAPTER XIII.
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

“ ID I not say so? Fools! fools! fools! O ye

D Dutchmen, when will ye learn wisdom? Mak-
ing sure of plunder when the city is not taken; stopping
the victualling of your own city for the sake of a few
paltry crowns! O ye fools of Antwerpers and Dutchmen!
ye do not deserve that any should help you. And yet
you shall have one more chance—one more! I will save
the city for you, if ye have but the sense to accept sal-
vation.”

These words were spoken in the little den of the Italian
mechanician, and Malcolm and Maurice were eagerly listen-
ing. Something of the thoughts seething in the busy
brain of this man of genius was known to both the youths
by this time; but he had never fully declared his project,
and he was not one who could be questioned at will.

But curiosity was burning high in the hearts of the
young men and of the old man’s daughter, and they pressed
closer round the stove beside which Gianibelli sat, their
eyes eagerly fixed upon the keen face of the animated
man of invention. From time to time there were moments
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 259

when the mood of speech came upon him, and it seemed as
though this mood were coming now. His dark eyes scin-
tillated in their deep caverns, and his thin brown hands
twitched nervously. He looked not at his daughter, nor
at any of the little group around him. His eyes were
fixed upon the dim light of the small lamp on the table—
not the strong light he used for his work; oil was too
precious now to be burnt save with care. At all ordinary
times a little rushlight was made to serve for the needs of
the humbler people of the place. Antwerp was at last
beginning to feel the pinch of the blockade.

For the great general’s much-sneered-at bridge was now
an accomplished fact. The bridle had been put upon the
wild, swirling river, and neither the winter storms nor the
great ice-floes had served to hinder that wonderful piece
of engineering skill. Backwards and forwards across this
mighty roadway tramped the legions of Spain. From
afar the awe-stricken burghers of Antwerp had watched
the triumphant pageant which commemorated the open-
ing of this great bridge. No vessel could now come up or
down. No daring Zeeland skipper could reach the city
were he to be paid for his wares their weight in gold.
Shut in indeed was the hapless town—shut in by this
mighty bridge, and encompassed by forts garrisoned by
implacable foes. Scantily victualled, owing to their own
blind folly; the great Kowenstyn Dike, the possession of
which would have saved the city, passed into the hands of
the enemy through their own mad blindness; foiled in
their most dashing and gallant feats of arms by the reck-
260 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

less carelessness of their leaders—small wonder was it that
the more thoughtful amongst the citizens had almost lost
heart, and felt that with so much against them it was a
hopeless task trying to stave off the doom of the city, when
so great a genius as Alexander Farnese had pledged him-
self to the task of capture.

And to-day had come the news of the capitulation of
Brussels.

Gallantly had that starving city held out so long as
there had been any prospect of success from Antwerp.
But the completion of the bridge had quenched the last
spark of hope they had ever felt; and the brave city had
submitted to Parma on as favourable terms as could be
looked for, though not before numbers of its inhabitants
had actually perished of starvation.

All these misfortunes, coming fast one upon another,
went far to try the courage of the people of Antwerp.
The disaster at Bois-le-Duc was very keenly felt, because
it savoured of disgrace as well as of misfortune. It was
well known by this time that Parma himself had said the
taking of that city would have forced him to relinquish
the siege of Antwerp. When this fact was actually
realized, a perfect thrill of indignation and horror went
through the town. Here were they exposed during the
rigours of the winter months to the horrors of this pro-
tracted siege, and all because that mad and reckless Hohenlo
had literally flung away a victory practically won, by his
headstrong folly and wildness.

It was a thing the citizens could not forget or forgive
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 261

and scarce a day went by without some bitter words being
spoken in high places against the reckless soldier. Sainte
Aldegonde went about with a troubled face, and when the
Councils met had little to say. All the city was in doubt
and perplexity ; and alone of all men there, this gleaming-
eyed Italian seemed to see a ray of hope.

“My father,” said Veronica softly, as they sat silent
about him, and watched the play of light and shadow over
his mobile face, “what is it that you will do to save the
city from her fate ?”

“TI will annihilate that great bridge,” answered the old
man, speaking slowly with shining eyes. “I will in one
moment cause that it shall be no more. In a moment,
in the twinkling of an eye, shall that mighty structure,
which has taken all these months to build, be swept away
like a wreath of smoke. Puff! it is gone. There is not
a trace left behind. The great river rolls along unim-
peded. The fleets of Zeeland come sailing up to the city
walls with their loads of corn and wine. Consternation
and fear reign in Parma’s camp; but we in Antwerp shout
and sing. Ah, I see it all—I see it all! And the work
is Gianibelli’s !”

The old man was making quick, excited gestures in the
air, as he did in moments of excitement. His eyes were
full of fire. Nobody spoke. When he was in this mood
it was sometimes better to let him alone, and he would
gradually unfold his thoughts of his own accord.

After a few moments of tense silence, during which his
listeners scarcely dared to breathe, he spoke again, bending
262 GIANIBELLI’?S PLAN.

forward, resting his chin upon his clasped hands, and
gazing more intently than ever into the dim flame of the
little rushlight, as though there he read the future.

“T see it all!” he said in low tones, little above a whisper,
“T see it all—the dark night, the sleeping city, the black,
swirling waters rolling past the walls, and down, down
towards yon great bridge! I see it all—all! And yet—
stop! what are yon great silent monsters slowly crawling
along down, down, down upon that bridge, floating so
softly and so silently, neither propelled by oars nor carried
by sail? What are they ? what are they?”

He paused as though for an answer, and Malcolm
hazarded a very low reply.

“Those are the device of the Italian wizard for the
destruction of the great bridge.”

An odd gleam, something between triumph and malice,
lighted for a moment the wizened face of the old man,

“The wizard—ay, the wizard of Antwerp! That is the
name by which fools call the only man they have ever
seen who has brains enough to fill a pigeon’s egg. Wizard!
Everything beyond their bovine wits is magic and witch-
craft to them. Ay, the device of the wizard! It is well
called. Let them come and watch with us. They shall
see what the might of the wizard shall accomplish this
night.”

The rushlight burned very, very dim ; the dull red glow
from the stove gave almost equal light. The atmosphere
seemed charged with some electric force. The strange
mood of the weird old man was exercising a peculiar
GIANIBELLII’S PLAN. 263

power over his audience. They too seemed to be stand-
ing watching the dark river flowing from the city towards
the bridge, and to see what was desired of them as the
“wizard ” continued his discourse.

“Look! there be three great monsters—black, shapeless,
and dead silent—three great marinerless vessels leaving
the city and slipping slowly and silently down the dark,
dark river. Do you see them? Good! Then look again
and see beyond them, nearer to the bridge. What are those
faintly luminous specks upon the water? They look like
a crowd of glow-worms silently stealing along. There!
did you see that? A flash and a bright light for a
moment. And then the ghost-like procession moves ever
onward and downward. The camp of the Spaniards is
alive. The alarm is given. Soldiers come hurrying out
from their huts and tents. The bugle sounds an alarm ;
and the great Prince himself, ever the first on the spot
in moments of danger, comes hurrying on to the bridge to
see what manner of phantoms these be. Great Alexander!
I pray thy pardon for thy life that must be forfeit.
Thou art better than all these bovine herds within the
walls. Fain would I have been with thee and not against
thee in this matter. But thou must suffer for the arrogance
and blindness of thy nation and of thy royal master. I
swore an oath when I turned my back on Spain that I
would be avenged one day for the slights and insults I had
there received. Mine hour is now come! My revenge is
well-nigh accomplished; and thou, O great Alexander—
thou and thy choicest troops must be the sacrifice.”
264 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

The old man paused in his strange apostrophe, spread-
ing out his hands as if to implore pardon, though all the
while in the sunken eyes there was shining the light of a
great triumph. A spell seemed to have fallen upon his
listeners. They were unconscious of their surroundings—
unconscious of the little bare room in which they were
sitting. They saw with the eyes of the old man, and
heard only the words he spoke in that strange hissing
whisper. After a moment or two of deep silence, which
seemed to last an hour, he took up his word again.

“They are all there—general and soldiers, and the
choicest flower of Spanish chivalry—all crowding upon
the bridge to watch these phantom lights, and marvel what
they be and whence they come. Fear is for a moment in
their hearts lest some ill be menacing them; but the little
crafts creep hither and thither harmlessly, and terror is
turned to laughter and jeering. And all the while in the
black darkness beyond, unseen for the smoky glare of
these little vessels, come creeping nearer and nearer the
three slumbering monsters, who are slowly, slowly, slowly
bearing down upon that bridge. None see them, none
hear them. They are all laughing to scorn the ‘ Antwerp
fireworks,’ fit to scare children withal. But the general
keeps his place on the bridge, alert and watchful, in case
of surprise.

“There is a shout raised by the soldiers along the bank
that a bigger fire-ship is coming. A dull red glow begins
to emanate from the foremost of the silent down-coming
monsters. This is something different from the light skiffs,
GIANIBELLII’S PLAN. 265

as all see; but they are not afraid. ‘My bridge will not
easily fire,” says the great Alexander, with calm confidence.
God save his soul! those be the last words he will ever
speak. Hark! there is a crash that rends the very
heavens—a glare that flames from end to end of the
land—the sound as of the rending of hell’s mouth and the
loosing of ten hundred thousand devils! The air is filled
with smoke, but not with smoke alone—with huge stones,
with slabs of solid marble, with harpoons, with plough-
shares, with every deadly missile the heart of man can
devise. And again, what is that? Another crash as loud
as before. Again another! And now, indeed, none can
breathe the air. It is full of flame and sulphur; it is hell
itself let loose upon the earth! We must wait, we must
watch; none may dare venture anigh that fearful spot
yet. After the long hurtling of deadly missiles comes a
dead, deep silence. Where are the voices of yon ten
thousand soldiers? Where is the sound of laughter and
mockery ? Where the word of cool command even in the
midst of deadly peril? Silenced—silenced for ever! Stop
—let us wait. The thick vapour-wreaths are slowly
rising. Anon we may enter that fearful region of desola-
tion and destruction. See there—what are those? You
would scarce know. It is a fearful sight, those mangled
corpses twisted together like adders in a nest. Where is
the great bridge that an hour ago put a curb upon the
tossing river, and made a way for the legions of Spain to
tramp to and fro? Where is it gone? Go look for it!
Ay, ye shall look, ye blind fools of citizens—ye shall seek
266 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

it, but ye shall find it not. The river is rushing onwards
to the sea, carrying on her broad bosom huge fragments of
the mighty wreck. The Zeelanders beyond, waiting and
watching in their boats for news, shall know by this token
that the bridge is no more, and shall come triumphantly
sailing their vessels through this murky region of dead
corpses up to the city walls. And Antwerp shall make
merry and rejoice. Antwerp shall go forth to see the
great sight. She shall rise up even as the beleaguered city
of old, and go forth to the camp of the enemy, and shall
find that they be all dead corpses. Ay, and thus shall the
great siege of Antwerp end; thus shall Philip of Spain
see his treasured schemes brought to naught, his choicest
soldiers and greatest general slain! His army and his
power shall at once be annihilated. And thus will Giani-
belli be avenged !”

The old man threw up his arms in a wild gesture of
triumphant rage. He had worked himself up into a
strange passion of excitement and fury, and the excitement
had communicated itself to his listeners. Maurice’s ardent
imagination had taken fire instantly. He saw everything
as the Italian saw it—could scarcely believe the picture so
vividly called up before his mind’s eye was all an illusion ;
he felt as though he had actually witnessed the destruc-
tion of the great bridge. Whilst Malcolm, if less vividly
impressed by the mental picture thus conjured up, was
eagerly sanguine that some such attempt as this, if left in
the hands of the wily and ingenious Italian, might indeed
bring about some such wonderful deliverance for his city,
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 267

even though it might not be quite so complete as the one
pictured by Gianibelli in his wild enthusiasm.

The spell was broken for the moment by the sudden
extinction of the dim light, which Veronica hastened to
replace, and ‘then she spread the table with their homely
and rather scanty fare, and invited the guests to partake
of what they had to offer.

The two visitors sat down with them, though eating
little, and as the meal proceeded they talked eagerly
together of the projected plan.

Gianibelli’s weird mood had now passed, but not the
disposition to talk. In answer to Malcolm’s questions he ~
plainly said that if the city authorities would give him a
free hand in this matter, he would undertake the destruc-
tion of the bridge, and consent to lose his own head if he
failed—glad to pay that forfeit since he knew he could
accomplish what he was eager and willing to undertake,
if he had but the requisite materials to work with.

“Tf they would but give me one quarter the money they
are spending on yon monster vessel, which will prove the
biggest of all Antwerp’s big blunders, albeit not so mis-
chievous a one as some,” said the old man, “I would under-
take that the bridge shall not stand a single day after my
preparations are complete. But oh, the folly of your
councils and your counsellors! Did Solomon but live in
these days, he would soon learn that in the multitude of
counsellors there is unspeakable folly and blindness. They
will vote half a kingdom to some senseless project of their
own, which will be useless or worse than useless when it is
268 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

complete; but let some wise man lay before them a scheme
for the easy destruction of the bridge and the termination
of the war, and they will doubtless laugh it to scorn!”

“They must not! they shall not!” cried Malcolm ear-
nestly. “Signor, come back with us to-night, and lay all
these matters before my brother Lionel. He will then see
that you have speech with the Burgomaster, and so shall
the matter come before the Council. It cannot be that
they will be altogether blind and deaf. Shut in as we
now are, our condition is well-nigh desperate, unless one
of two things be done—the piercing of the Kowenstyn
Dike, or the destruction of Parma’s bridge. All the city
is beginning to know this now. The dike bristling with
' Spanish guns and crowded with Spanish pikemen is an
object of fear to all, An attack there would be made at
fearful odds; but these fire-ships—this instantaneous de-
struction of the bridge, and that without peril to human
life—oh, it cannot fail to appeal to the sense and reason of
all! Come and unfold all the plan to my brother; he
has more influence with our Burgomaster than his position
warrants. Let him hear all that has been in your head
these many days. He will strive that the city shall give
you a hearing and a fair trial.”

Gianibelli was willing enough to push this matter for-
ward now. Ever since the bridge had been commenced he
had been turning over and over in his ingenious mind some
plan for its destruction—some plan that should bring his
own name into estimation before all the world as one of
the wonder-workers there. A boundless ambition burned
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 269

within him. He had all the nervous thirst for fame that
so often accompanies great abilities of this description.
He was convinced that if he were but listened to he could
effect a revolution in the world’s history, and his constant
disappointments in getting a hearing, or the incredulity
and scorn with which his projects were received, had
imbittered and soured his nature. He was by this time a
regular cynic, and would have sold his wares to the highest
bidder, without regard to anything but his own advantage.
He had no love for the patriot cause for its own sake,
and felt an unbounded contempt for the blunders of the ill-
ruled citizens; but here he was, shut in in Antwerp, and
to them or to none could he make known his ambitious
projects. He had long ago set his heart on striking a
blow at the arrogant Spaniards, and it seemed indeed as
though his hour were about to come.

Lionel and his father-in-law listened with great atten-
tion as the Italian unfolded his scheme. Everything had
been most carefully thought out. The inventor had even
discovered an improvement in gunpowder, and was pre-
pared to make himself that which was to be used in his
explosive ships. He had drawn wonderful diagrams to
demonstrate how the vessels were to be made ready for
their diabolical mission, and how the crater of what was
to be nothing more or less than a miniature volcano was
to be prepared. He and an ingenious clockmaker of the
name of Bory had constructed elaborate instruments by
which the mass of explosives could be set alight at an
appointed time. Every detail had been set down with
270 GIANIBELLII’S PLAN.

the utmost precision ; and in theory the plan was so per-
fect that Lionel felt at once that the scheme should be
submitted to the authorities without loss of time. Mis-
fortunes had come fast upon Antwerp of late, and the news
of the capitulation of Brussels, though not exactly un-
expected, had produced a bad effect upon the citizens.”
There was danger that the apathy of despair would fall
upon them, and that they would cease to struggle against
the iron hand that was closing round them. The genius
showed by Parma in the construction of this bridge in the
teeth of the winter storms had engendered in the minds
of some of the people a sense of consternation and hope-
lessness. It seemed useless to fight against such a man
as that. But to Lionel and his father-in-law it appeared
as though he might meet his match in the genius of this
Italian mechanician.

Lionel took the diagrams and the instructions of the
mechanician, and promised to see the Burgomaster the next
day, and let him know what he thought of the scheme.
Sainte Aldegonde had a mind superior to petty incredulity
—the incredulity of ignorance. It might be difficult to
get the Council to believe that one single man could
- annihilate the great bridge in a moment of time, but the
Burgomaster might believe, and he had at least nominal
rule on the Council. He had been outvoted again and
again by the blind obstinacy of the burghers, but perhaps
in this time of extremity they would listen to the counsels
of reason.

Gianibelli’s demands were not exorbitant. He asked
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 271

for three ships out of the city fleet, ships that he had
selected for certain properties they possessed as the most
suitable to his purpose—the Orange, the Post, and the
Golden Lion. Then for his smaller fleet he asked for fifty
scows—flat-bottomed boats of a peculiar build—and a large
quantity of explosives and of missiles, blocks of stone and
projectiles of every kind, with which to fill his vessels and
insure the accomplishment of his deadly purpose.

Lionel was greatly struck by the. ingenuity of the
scheme, and by the absolute thoroughness with which
every detail had been worked out. It was not the
chimera of a dreamer, but the closely-reasoned plan of a
practical man, knowing exactly the value of the things he
used and the effect to be produced by certain agencies.

“Tt might save the city,” quoth Lionel when the Italian
was gone; and he and Van der Hammer, both men who
knew much of ships and their power of service, sat far
into the night with the plans before them, going over the
whole scheme again, and finding it each time more com-
prehensible and more satisfactory than the last.

Tt was an exciting day in Hooch Straet when Lionel
sallied forth with the roll of papers beneath his arm to
seek speech with the Burgomaster. Anything that brought
a ray of hope, anything that gave promise of some termina-
tion to that long siege, was eagerly welcomed by all within
the walls. The only faces that were not brighter than
usual were those of the two Spanish youths. Alphonso
looked troubled and anxious, as well he might, feeling that
if this thing were to become a reality his general, his
272 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

brother and comrades, and the flower of the army might
be annihilated in a moment of time. Diego’s brow was
black as night, and he moved restlessly to and fro, swear-
ing softly beneath his breath, and looking fiercely at any
person who spoke of the contemplated undertaking.

It was impossible to keep the knowledge of it from the
two prisoner-guests. The severity of the weather obliged
them now to be almost all the day with the family, and
Alphonso was taking to this strange family life with ease
and even pleasure. He and the juffrouw Van der Hammer
were wonderfully good friends, and he looked after her
little comforts with a courtesy that was almost filial.
Diego sneered at him in vain. He was not to be laughed
out of the position he had taken up, and the whole party
had become warmly attached to him by now.

Lionel came back at mid-day without the papers.

“They are to be laid before the Board of Schepens on
the morrow, and Gianibelli is to attend to give such ex-
planations as they may want. The Burgomaster is mightily
taken with the idea, and hopes it will be successful—has
every hope of it. He would grant the ships at once, but
must not without the consent of the Board. Heaven send
they do not blunder more, and refuse what is so modest
a demand! It scarce seems possible they should. What
use are our ships to us now? When they might well have
been used against the builders of the bridge, we slumbered
peacefully, thinking that France would come and save us.
Men’s hearts are getting weary now with waiting for that
help, and for mine own part I never thought it would
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 273

come. Better let the Italian use our vessels than leave
them idle here. I hope and trust there will be no grudg-
ing. Men should remember how the preservation of those
droves of cattle on the plains has cost Antwerp ten thou-
sand times their value!”

“The Holy Saints blind their eyes and send them strong
delusion, and let them deny everything the wily Italian
asks!” quoth Diego beneath his breath. “They have
fought so well on our side heretofore, I scarce think they
will desert us now.”

Coosje looked quickly up. Diego was sitting near her,
and she alone heard his words. Of late he had gener-
ally taken up a position rather near her seat, and from
time to time he would strive by some such exclamation to
win a word or a look from her. It was an amusement he
was beginning to indulge in, scarcely knowing wherein the
pleasure lay. He met her glance now with a mocking
light in his eyes. Coosje looked straight at him, and said,—

“Tt is the folly of our own citizens, not the interference
of your saints, Sefior, that brings this poor city into trouble.
If we had a ruler amongst us like our great dead Prince,
these blunders would not be made.”

“No; the devil carried him off in the nick of time.
Would it had happened ten years before! Then this
accursed war would be at an end, and we should be safe
in our own land.”

“It is an accursed war!” answered Coosje with spirit.
“Tt is accursed because it is a war of tyranny and cruelty,

and its object is vile and hateful. But it is you and not
(444) 18
274 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

we who make that war, and make it what itis. If your
King had been true to his pledges it would never have
begun. He is false, and we are free from his yoke, and
will fight for our liberty to the death.”

The flash in her eyes gratified him somehow. He liked
the quick, keen spirit of the little Dutch girl. He at-
tempted no scornful or angry reply, but contented himself
by a short laugh not quite so grim as usual.

There was excitement all that day in the city. It had
got abroad that some scheme was on foot for the destruc-
tion of Parma’s bridge, and rumours of all sorts were flying
from mouth to mouth. Some said one thing about it and
some another, but there was very little real knowledge of
the matter. When, however, the name of Gianibelli was
breathed there was a visible diminution in popular en-
thusiasm.

“The Wizard!” people said one to another in low tones;
“T like him not, He is a foreigner. He hates us and our
nation. I have heard that said a thousand times. I would
not trust him. He will undo us if we do. Have no deal-
ings with witchcraft; that is Bible rule. Better wait till
the King of France comes to our aid than trust to such a

one as he.” .
‘The feeling of distrust and suspicion grew fast. Before
the Board of Magistrates met, there was an uneasy sense
abroad in the city that some subtle peril threatened them;
and when the Board assembled together, there were many
who had almost made up their minds beforehand that what-
ever proposal was to be made should be sternly negatived.
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 275

The Burgomaster made a fine speech, in which the nature
of the proposed measure was laid before the Council; and
Gianibelli at his request followed it up by a further ex-
planation, and demonstrated to his own satisfaction and
that of the most intelligent men there that there was every
reasonable prospect of destroying the bridge, if he had only
what he asked allowed him.

It would perhaps have been better had the Italian been
dismissed after making his speech, before the discussion
came on; for as one after another the ignorant burghers
tose with some ponderous objection which betrayed an
absolute lack of comprehension of the subject, and igno-
rance of the nature of the measures proposed, the quick-
tempered old man lost his self-control, and rising suddenly
to his feet, let loose a volley of excited language, in which
argument and abuse were freely mingled, and succeeded so
well in convincing all hearers of his madness and hatred
to their nation that the cause was lost almost from the
first. Incredulous of the promised wonders, ignorant alike
of the mechanism of the clockwork and the power of the
" explosives, they laughed to scorn the notion of destroying
this great bridge so easily. The furious tirade launched
upon them by the inventor served only to strengthen their
Opposition ; and after something very like an open brawl,
the Burgomaster at length succeeded in restoring a sem-
blance of order, though not before Gianibelli had stridden
away in high dudgeon, vowing never to raise a finger on
behalf of the ungrateful and dunder-headed citizens.

When he was gone Sainte Aldegonde strove his best, by
276 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

his quiet reasoning and personal influence, to get the Board
to reconsider its determination; but the burghers were
thoroughly roused and angry, and were vehemently set
against the scheme. Still they did respect their Burgo-
master, and were not entirely callous to the reminder of
the number of blunders already made during the siege.
When he represented to them that he believed the refusal
of this project would be as great a blunder as any that
had gone before, they began to look uncomfortable; and
at last some person suggested that they should make a
compromise.

To give the mad Italian three of their best war-vessels
was mere folly, he argued, carrying the greater number
of the Magistrates with him as he spoke; but since the
worshipful Burgomaster thought that something might
come of an attempt to blow up the bridge, let two inferior
vessels be allowed for the purpose, together with a number
of lighter craft—those to be selected that were growing
old and unserviceable; and let this strange wizard-man
see what he could do with them. Since he was desirous
of preparing his own powder, he might be allowed what he
wanted in the way of explosives and projectiles; and they
would then see how far he was able to carry out his
threats of wholesale destruction. If his hopes were well
founded, these materials ought to suffice; for a breach in
the bridge would answer almost as well as its wholesale
destruction, if the two fleets of Antwerp and Zeeland were
awaiting the result, one on either side of the barrier.
Whilst the Spaniards remained stunned and horrified by
GIANIBELLI’S PLAN. 277

what had occurred, the two fleets acting in concert would
tear away the remainder of the barricade; and they would
want to hold all their good ships in readiness for that
emergency, and it would be a thousand pities to be
robbed of three of their best. The two inferior and un-
seaworthy vessels that were to be offered to Gianibelli
would not be missed, and for such a purpose ought to be
amply sufficient.

This speech was received with applause by nearly
all the Magistrates. Sainte Aldegonde would fain have
answered more liberally the demand of the Italian
mechanician ; but he had only one vote upon the Board,
and the voice of the majority carried the day. There
was a certain show of reason in using bad instead of good
ships for such a purpose; and the burghers could hardly
be blamed, perhaps, for refusing to put unlimited faith in
a man who abused them so roundly and expressed such
unmitigated scorn for themselves and all their doings.

“We are doomed to blunders, it would seem,” remarked
Lionel, as he returned home with the news ; “albeit things
went better in the end than at the beginning seemed
possible. It was a blunder to let that firebrand hear
his measure pulled in pieces by those heavy Schepens, who
blundered themselves at every turn; and they again have
blundered in being parsimonious when it would have been
well to be generous. Still, with even thus much material,
I think something considerable may be done. The only
question is, will Gianibelli condescend to go to work for
men who trust him so ill? There is a fiend of pride and
278 GIANIBELLI’S PLAN.

petulance in the man, and it is well known that a genius
is ill to deal with. I will go to him myself when his
anger has had time to cool, and see what may be done
with him; but I fear me there may be trouble.”

Malcolm nodded his head gravely.

“Ay, verily! He came home storming that he would
never lift a finger to help this accursed city; but Veronica
is striving to quiet him. His moods though violent are
short-lived when his passion is much stirred. Perchance
by to-morrow he may think differently. We will strive
to bring him to another mind. Antwerp must not lose
this last hope !”
CHAPTER XIV.
A DARING SWIM.

“ ATHER, dear father, do but listen ! Nay, turn not
away from our words. Let these blind and

foolish men see what you can accomplish, even with the
half of what should have been yours. Let them not say
that it was all a mad illusion. Father, padre mio, all the
world will stand amazed at this proof of your power !
With everything so beautifully arranged, why give it all
up because these blundering burghers are so densely
blind? There are others who see—there be many eager
to forward the work; why not show to these what may
be done? Why not show to the unbelievers the great
‘ things thou canst accomplish? All Antwerp will stand

amazed if thou wilt but try thy power.”

“Verily the maid is right,” said Lionel. “Good Master
Gianibelli, I have come to tell thee with what deep regret
the noble Burgomaster and many of our best men regard
the decision of the Board. It is an ill thing in days of
war to live under the rule of the many. We want a
tyrant in this city—a tyrant with an iron hand and a
brain to match—one who could rule these hydra-headed
280 A DARING SWIM.

boards of governors, and reduce them to order and obedi-
ence. But, alas! we have none such here. Our Burgo-
master has the will but not the power. The power rests
with the majority, and that majority is—”

“The assembly of fools, blind fools and idiots!” flashed
the old man, with a wrathful gleam in his sunken eyes.
It was the first word Lionel had heard him speak; for
hitherto he had been sunk in sullen, brooding silence, and
had returned no answer to the pleadings of Veronica or
the arguments of Malcolm and Lionel, who had both come
to see if they could not persuade him to reconsider his de-
cision and go to work with the amount of poor material
offered him by the niggardly Council. His passion of the
previous evening had had time to subside, and the sullen
mood had replaced the wild fury of the first hours of
disappointment. Malcolm knew this mood well, as did
Veronica also, and knew that he was not easy to deal
with in it; so that both were glad to see that flash of
anger, and to note the returning fire in the keen dark
eyes.

“They are fools,” answered Lionel, with crisp decision
and a telling gesture of the hand. “From the beginning
of this threatened siege up till now the blind folly of the
Boards has been working woe to Antwerp. I have said
so again and yet again. The Burgomaster knows it as
well as we do, and so do all thinking men. But we are
powerless to resist. It is always the way where the
people have the governance, and always will be to the end
of time. Men in these lands do not see whither it all
A DARING SWIM. 281

tends. They hold that government by the people is the
best and purest form of rule, yet all the while they are
seeking about for one to lead and guide them, even
though it be a profligate weakling like the King of
France. Had Antwerp been governed by one head in-
stead of five hundred, she might this day have been
triumphantly mocking the futile efforts of the Prince of
Parma to shut her in. Now we are strictly blockaded,
and famine will shortly begin to stare us in the face if
help be not forthcoming. The people truly have had
their way, and that way is ruin. Each blunder made
rivets the chain faster upon us; but wisdom is never
learned by experience when there is no ruling head. The
Colleges and Boards wrangle bitterly amongst themselves,
each blaming the other for what is the fault of all; but
as for arriving the next time at a wise decision, that is
never the outcome of the matter.”

A cold sneer was on the face of the Italian.

“That comes of throwing off the rule of Holy Church !”
he remarked. “It will be the doom of you heretic
nations first and last. You will think and choose your
own way, and that way is the one which leads unto
perdition.”

Gianibelli was no very great believer in Holy Church
himself, and was as ready with his sneers against the
priests as against any other class of people, as Lionel well
knew. He was practically, what was rare in those days,
@ man of no belief whatever, although nominally a
Romanist. His daughter was often terrified lest he should
282 A DARING SWIM.

fall beneath the ban of the Church; and this was one
reason why she had been glad to stay in Antwerp, even
when this siege threatened, because here for the time
being he was safe from the arm of the Holy Office. She
herself was much attracted by the purer faith which was
expounded to her frequently by her lover; but this was no
time for controversial discussion.

Lionel had taken up the word again, and was speak-
ing in the calm way of his which generally commanded
attention.

“ However that may be, we have now this question to
face. Antwerp is in a great strait. The genius of one
man has brought about a blockade which was thought
to be impossible once; it remains to be seen whether the
genius of another man can undo his great work, and
show the world that the great Prince of Parma has
met his match. Paolo Gianibelli is the one man who has
the genius for this. If he will come to our assistance all
may yet be well. Without such help I greatly fear the
city may fall. That is a plain statement of facts.”

The eyes of the Italian sparkled. There was some-
thing in the nature of this challenge that stirred the
demon of restless ambition within him. He was thirsting
to set his wits to work against the genius of the great
Alexander. Lionel had chosen his words with care, and
had produced just the effect he desired; but Gianibelli
was not going to let himself be won over in a moment by
this argument.

“Then let it fall,” he replied with a fierce sneer; “it
A DARING SWIM. 283

richly merits its fate! What a man sows, that shall he
reap; you Protestants who have your Bibles by heart
surely know that! Answer a fool according to his folly ;
cast not your pearls before swine ;—is not all that good
theology, Master Lionel Wilford? Has not Antwerp
richly merited her fate? Why shall Gianibelli forgive
the slights and insults heaped upon him, and come to her
rescue ?”

“Why, because Gianibelli does not act from love to the
purblind citizens whom he despises, but in the interests
of his mistress Science, who urges her followers to display
her powers to the world. Glianibelli has secrets with her
which will cause the ears of all who hear them to tingle
when once they are revealed. Not for Antwerp, not for
the blind fools of burghers, but in the cause of science he
will act. He will win renown by defeating the genius
of the world’s greatest general, and will amply avenge
himself for the studied insolence of the Spanish King and
his curled courtiers !”

“He will! he will! he will!” cried the fiery Italian,
springing suddenly to his feet. “TI will be avenged upon
them, even as I swore to be! Not for Antwerp, not for her
blind fools, but for his own ends, his own vow, will he
work. Master Lionel Wilford, you are an honest man,
and were all in this city such as you, Antwerp would
not be what she is to-day. Your words have prevailed.
I will go and see these miserable vessels allotted to me
by the noble Board of Schepens. I will see what can be
made out of even such things as they. I will show the
284 A DARING SWIM.

world that not even the accursed parsimony and folly
of the citizens can bind the mighty powers I can summon
at my bidding. They shall see yet what Gianibelli can
do. Though even now I doubt not they will strive to
undo my work by one of their mad blunders. Yet we
will see, we will see!”

He rose to his feet, and his daughter brought him his
cloak. There was nothing like striking whilst the iron
was hot. The scheme of these floating volcanoes was dear
to the heart of the man who had been poring over his
plans for many long weeks. When once he saw the vessels
which were actually made over to him to do with them
as he would, his soul would be stirred within him, and the
old eagerness probably revive. It was thought well that
they should instantly go down and see the ships, and the
little party of four started forthwith for the water's
side. Lionel had had the two selected vessels brought
up into a narrow inlet beside St. Michael’s bastion the
previous evening. ‘There was a convenient creek here
which accommodated them well side by side, and the smaller
craft also. The fort could supply a good share of the need-
ful requisites, and the work could be carried on privately
and quietly, shut off from the eye of curious gazers.

As they walked down to the place, Lionel explained all
this to the Italian, whilst Veronica and Malcolm followed,
engrossed in their own conversation. The girl’s face was
grave and earnest.

“ Malcolm,” she said, “if my father consents to under-
take this work and to carry it out, as we hope, I pray thee
A DARING SWIM. 285

do not let it be known to those Spanish youths that reside
with you in your home. I like not the looks of that
dark-browed Diego. He is a very reckless and desperate
man, I make no doubt; and I trow were he to know he
would strive to acquaint the Prince of Parma with the
threatened peril, and perhaps undo in some way my
father’s work. Through the priests in this town the secret
might be betrayed, or he might effect his escape. He looks
as though nothing would hold him back if once he saw
the way open. Take warning, Malcolm: if they have
heard that this thing is at an end, let them not know
that it has been again begun. I liked not his looks as we
discussed it the other night, and I would fain know that
the secret would be kept from him.”

“I trow thou art in the right, Veronica,” answered
Malcolm quickly. “I have sometimes thought myself that
we speak something too freely before these stranger-guests,
though, caged as they are, it does not seem as though they
could do much harm. Still any day we might hear that

_ Otto or Joris, who are the regular messengers to and from
the city, had fallen into the hands of the enemy, and had
been thrown into prison. Then should we at once strive by
exchange to get them back, and one or both of these youths
would be released. It were not well, were that to take place,
that they should know too much. I thank thee for the
hint, my Veronica; thy woman’s wit is sharper than ours.”

She blushed a little, at the tone more than at the words;
and Malcolm, drawing her hand more closely within his
arm, asked softly,—
286 A DARING SWIM.

“May I speak yet to thy father, Veronica ?”

But she shook her head quickly, whilst her eyes sought
the figure of Gianibelli. He was walking in front, and
gesticulating:as he moved in a way which showed that the
talking mood was once more upon him.

“It would be useless—worse than useless. In his own
strange way he loves me; and there is nobody else in the
world for whom he cares the snap of a finger. Then he
calls thee heretic, albeit he cares little for our mass himself.
He holds that women are best left with their fathers than
to become the slaves and tools of the husbands they marry.
He is full of strange fancies, and I fear to disturb his
mind, lest he should drive thee thenceforward from his
doors. We must be patient, Maleolm—we must watch and
wait. Perchance some day the chance will come. He has
a liking for thee. It may be some day he will listen;
but not yet, I fear me, not yet.”

“Tt has been ‘not yet’ a weary while already, Veronica,”
said Malcolm, with a little sigh, though his face was bright
and full of hope; for he was confident of the love of this
maiden, and was young enough to hope everything and to
wait without depression, even if with some natural impa-
tience. “But it shall be as thou wilt, sweetheart; thou
dost best know thy father’s strange moods. I will wait in
hopes that some day by some signal service I shall win the
right to claim this hand as mine!”

“That would be good—that would be very good!”
said Veronica, with brightening eyes. “I would that thou
couldst thus serve him, Malcolm; for I trow he would not
A DARING SWIM. 287

be ungrateful for service rendered. Perchance thou mayest
help him in this task he is about to undertake. We may
well hope at least that it may be so.”

They had by this time reached the secluded creek where
the two vessels were lying side by side. It was a small
inlet protected by heavy gates, so that the water could be
kept in or let out at will, and the action of the tides regu-
lated. No place could have been better for the purpose in
hand; and when Gianibelli saw before him the two vessels
which were his now to do with as he would, his eyes
brightened, the old enthusiasm came back upon him, and
for a moment he forgot the slights put upon him and the
disappointments of yesterday in the deep joy of planning
anew what he might accomplish, and explaining to those
about him the nature of his design.

The two ships were quite seaworthy, though rather
battered and weather-beaten. They were small, indeed, as
compared with those he had demanded, being only vessels
of seventy and eighty tons respectively, instead of from
three to five hundred tons, as were those of his own
selection; but even with such limited space he was re-
solved to show what he could accomplish, and the fever of
ambition burned high within him as he moved quickly
from deck to deck, taking measurements, sweeping the
vessels from stem to stern with his keen glances, and mut-
tering all the while to himself in his own tongue. Now
and again, as he realized how his movements would be
crippled by want of space, he stopped short and burst into
scornful imprecation on the blind folly of the Council ; but
288 A DARING SWIM.

having thus relieved himself, he would go to work again
with his calculations, and the fire in his eyes would tell
that he saw a hundred times more in these battered hulks
than those about him could.

The point was gained. The mechanician had undertaken
the task. Lionel, greatly relieved and full of hope for the
result, went to inform the Burgomaster of this. Malcolm
accompanied him, telling him as they walked of the counsel
given by Veronica, and suggesting that these matters should
no longer be openly spoken of at home, lest harm of some
sort might come of it.

Lionel cordially agreed. He had himself sometimes
been uneasy at the free way in which municipal affairs
were discussed before the Spaniards. He saw at once that
it would be better for them to believe that Gianibelli’s
plan had been foiled through the obstinate incredulity of
the city authorities. And this, in fact, is what was
thought in Hooch Straet for many a long day, save by
certain members of the household. The Spanish captives
believed that the idea of the destructive fire-ships had been
entirely abandoned, and some amongst the women of the
household were of the same opinion.

As for Malcolm, he devoted the whole of his time and
energy to the work in hand, and young Maurice was
equally assiduous. Both youths were very quick and
ingenious, ready of resource and strong at any manual
exercise. The scheme of these floating volcanoes fascinated
them strangely, and they were eager to see the carefully-
planned designs carried out in practical form.
A DARING SWIM. 289

But the Italian was for many days absolutely silent, and
he sat hour after hour lost in thought, with his carefully-
prepared designs and diagrams spread out on the table
before him. It was no easy matter to modify his scheme
and bring it down to limits so narrow as those at his
disposal, and sometimes, in a fury of rage at the nig-
gardly conduct of the citizens, he would vow to have no
more to do with them or their city, but to leave it to the
destruction it well merited.

Anxiety, therefore, was not yet over, even though it was
plain that the Italian was contemplating some modified
plan of a great explosion. But the work could not be
commenced till the plan was matured, and day after day
went by and still nothing was done.

“T have found out what is troubling him so greatly,”
said Veronica one evening, as she met Malcolm in the dark
entry of their little home. “He fears that with so much
to do with such scant material, he may not effect the
damage he has planned. He is longing to go to this bridge
and examine it for himself. Many have seen it from a
distance—he has done so much himself; but he desires to
understand its construction—to know where it is strongest
and where weakest. He wants to know more of the
structure of those protecting rafts of which we hear, and a
number of other details upon which much might depend.
He has spoken of taking a boat some dark night and going
to see for himself; but I know he would fall a prey into
the hands of the cruel Spaniards, and he himself has no

mind to be hacked in pieces by them. It is this lack of
(444) 19
290 A DARING SWIM.

knowledge that is perplexing him. With the three great
vessels he could have shattered all at a blow had the bridge
been never so strong. But now it is a different matter,
and he has need to know more than he does.”

Malcolm’s eyes had suddenly brightened as he heard
this. He said nothing to Veronica, only putting her
gently aside and saying he would go and speak to her
father ; but in his heart he was saying triumphantly,—

“This is my chance, my chance!”

He stepped softly into the den beside the table whee
the old man sat, and drew the door to behind him.

“Good Master Gianibelli,’ he began, “I have been
thinking that it would be a help to us were we to know
something more nearly the structure and strength of this
great bridge of which we have heard so much. I have a
plan, too, in my head, whereby this information might be
obtained.”

Gianibelli raised his head quickly and looked into the
flushed face of the youth with unwonted eagerness.

“A plan? nay, now, what plan? It is very true that
we need a better knowledge of the structure of this bridge;
but how to obtain it—that is the question. Your brave
Antwerp citizens care not to be made into mince-meat for
the sake of their country.”

“Nor would they bring us much news were they re-

”

duced to mince-meat,” answered Malcolm, smiling. “We
know that no boat may approach that bridge without being
instantly fired upon and sunk by the watchful Spaniards.

But there is another way by which we might learn all we
A DARING SWIM. 291

wish to know. An expert swimmer might well elude the
watchfulness of the sentries, and swim and dive all round
the structure, and bring word again of all those points we
chiefly need to know.”

_ “A swimmer! And where is such to be found? Who
in this city of poltroons and fools would thus adventure
himself ?”

“We are not all fools and poltroons,” answered Malcolm,
with a laugh. “I may not marvel that ye call us so, but
we have some heart amongst us even now. What reward
would you give me, good Master Gianibelli, if I were to
bring you back all the details you need for the construction
of your plan? They say of me that I am the best swim-
mer in the city. For pure amusement I have often gone
far greater distances than this; and I can dive like a duck,
and remain long beneath the water, and swim faster than ,
any against whom I have pitted myself. If I go and bring
you news, what reward will you give me?”

“ Anything you like to ask for, boy, that is mine to give
—anything, to the half of my kingdom,” answered the old
man, fired with a sudden enthusiasm as he saw his way to
just those items of information upon which so much de-
pended. “By the success of this enterprise will the name
of Gianibelli live or die. Let me once destroy this great
monument of Parma’s genius, and all posterity will know
that a greater than he was pitted against him. All the
world will ring with the praises of Gianibelli. I shall
achieve greatness—greatness—greatness !”

He waved his arm in the air; the light of exultation
292 A DARING SWIM.

was in his eyes. Malcolm smiled to himself as he heard
these words, and presently said in a low voice,—

“JT ask nothing yet. Let me do first what I purpose.
If I succeed I will come to you with my request. I have
one ready.”

Gianibelli scarcely heard. He had gone back to his
papers and his calculations. Malcolm stole away and went
in search of Veronica.

“Our chance has come, sweetheart!” he cried, “our
chance has come! I have a work to do for your father,
and when it is accomplished methinks he will deny me
nothing ;” and then he told her the proposition he had
made, and the eagerness with which it had been ac-
cepted.

But Veronica’s cheek grew pale as she listened. She put

‘out her hand and laid it upon that of her lover.

“Ah, Malcolm, do not, do not! do not hazard thus
your life! If you fall a prey into the hands of the
Spaniards—”

“But I shall not, dear love, I shall not. I am a veri-
table water-rat. I am confident of success. And yet let
us imagine the worst: let us say that I am taken. If
any desire to kill me, I have but to say that Don Alphonso
de Castro or Don Diego de Escolano are within the city
walls and would be exchanged for me, and my life is safe.
I know well that these two youths are noble, and that to
get one of them back in exchange for so humble a person
as myself would be thought very advantageous. So do not
fear, my beloved; trust me, I shall return safe and sound.
A DARING SWIM. 293

And then having so returned, I will openly ask thy hand
in marriage. Thy father can scarce deny it me after what
he has'said. Let that thought cheer thee in my absence.
But, believe me, I shall be safe. I am well-nigh as much
at home in the water as on land. The river is a good
friend to me.”

“But the cold—it will numb and kill thee!”

“Nay; I am too hardy for that, and there is no ice in
the flood now. ‘This softer February weather has taken
all that away. The moon will give light, and I shall see
without being seen. I can swim as noiselessly as a fish,
and well-nigh as swiftly. Have no fears for me; I have
none for myself. I only marvel the thought came not to
me before.”

His mind was evidently made up, and Veronica sought
not to hinder him. Women were inured in those days to
seeing their loved ones go forth to danger and death, and
would have thought it shame to strive too much to hold
them back. Malcolm’s mother was dead; he might have
found it harder to run deliberately into peril had she been
there to bid him not thus adventure himself. His father
was far away, and Veronica was his first and chiefest
care. It might remove the greatest obstacle from his
path in striving to win her, and if so the risk was well
tun. The adventure was not without charms for him, and
very eager was he to carry the plan into action. He
spoke of it only to Lionel and Maud; and though both
feared for him, neither would bid him stay. There was no
man in Antwerp better fitted for the task; and they had
294. A DARING SWIM.

confidence that if it were to be done at all, their brother
had the best chance of accomplishing it.

The February nights were calm and still, and just now
not very cold. There was a full moon in the sky, and
though this would oblige him to be more cautious in his
movements, it would enable him to see those things he had
come to see, which in a dark night would be invisible.
The waters of the great river were brown and turbid.
He might very likely pass quite unnoticed if he merely
kept a part of his head above the water. That he could
remain many hours in the water even when it was colder
than now, he had demonstrated many times before. He
consented to wear a home-made cork jacket for a part of
the journey, to avoid needless fatigue ; but this would have
to be thrown off when he reached the bridge, where he
would need to dive frequently to examine into those
details so important to Gianibelli. Of course, he would
go with the ebb-tide and return on the flood. The ex-
pedition was planned with care and nicety, and the boy
was in a fever till he could be off.

His brother accompanied him to the water-side on the
appointed night, and together they pushed off in a light
skiff, which was carried down to the appointed place by
the strong ebb. Malcolm meantime made his preparations,
and when all was in readiness grasped his brother for a
moment by the hand, and then dived almost silently from
the boat and struck out with long, quiet strokes down the
great swirling river.

Lionel turned and looked back at the brown head which
A DARING SWIM. 295

was all that was visible above the turbid stream, and
uttered a prayer for the daring swimmer going forth so
fearlessly on his errand. He watched till the black speck
had disappeared from his view, and then silently returned
to the city and to his home.

But Malcolm, though reserving his strength for what
was the most important part of his errand, swam rapidly
and boldly down the river, helped by stream and tide
alike, his heart full of courage and resolution, fearless and
full of ardour and of hope in the promised reward. The
lights of the city quickly disappeared ; he seemed all alone
on the black, cold river. Bitterly cold indeed it was, but
to one so hardily reared this cold mattered little. He had
many times disported himself amongst the ice-blocks for
pure sport. What was this chill to him? He scarcely
gave it a thought, so warm was his heart with hope and
love.

Down, down, down— rapidly and silently he was
whirled along. He heard from time to time the step of
the sentries along the dike, the clang of arms as they
saluted, or a stray shot perchance fired at some imaginary
_ object on water or land. But he heeded all this no whit.
Out in mid-stream he was safe from observation even from
the keenest eyes. His own eyes were fixed steadily ahead ©
for the first sight of the great bridge.

Ha! what is that—that long black line lying upon the
water like the body of a great snake? Yes; there is no
doubting it. That is the bridge! Malcolm rose higher in
the water, and treading it with his feet took a long look at
296 A DARING SWIM.

the strange low bulwark rising out of the swirling river.
It caused him a thrill of admiration now to picture how it
had been built in the teeth of the winter storms and ice-
floes, and with enemies above and below. How was it—
ah, how was it that Antwerp had remained so strangely
apathetic whilst this great work was being carried on?
But at least she should not show herself apathetic now.
She was awakening from her trance—at least it might
well be hoped so—and she would see whether, if Parma
were able to make, Antwerp might not yet have power
to mar!

And now began the most perilous part of his journey.
The bridge would doubtless be strictly guarded. There
would be sentries pacing upon it, and any sudden noise in
the water would attract their attention. The moon was
not very bright, but still it was shining clearly in the sky,
as indeed was needful for his purpose. It behoved him
to act with great caution; and slipping off his cork jacket,
he at once sank lower in the water, and was therefore less
visible to any watching person.

He did not swim any longer, but floated gently with
the current, so that not a ripple was made by his presence
in the water. And thus gently and quietly he came
straight down upon one of those protecting rafts which
guarded the bridge like inanimate sentinels on either side.

He had to be careful now, for the raft was abundantly
furnished with sharp hooks and prongs and pointed stakes,
and it would have been an awkward thing to be im-
paled on one of these. But Malcolm had all his wits
A DARING SWIM. 207

about him, was prepared for this obstruction, and swam
cautiously about it, taking note of its construction and
strength ; and finally diving under it, in order not to ap-
proach too near the shore, came quietly up on the other
side.

There were sounds of life in the air here. The forts of
St. Mary and Philip on either hand showed gleaming lights
within them, and the tread of sentinels on the battlements
and along the planked pathway of the great bridge told
Malcolm that the Spaniards were not to be caught napping.
Holding to the raft with one hand to steady himself, he
took a good survey of the bridge and its environs, and
then dropping silently back into the water, he was carried
down upon it by the tide.

Unluckily for him, just at this moment the moon sailed
out from behind the light film of cloud which had hitherto
veiled her face, and shone with a remarkably brilliant
light; whilst a pair of gulls floating upon the water, dis-
turbed by this sudden apparition of a human head, broke
forth into discordant cries, and flew away with a noise and
a fuss. The sentry on the bridge, attracted by the sound,
looked, and before Malcolm had had time to dive, he caught
sight of the bobbing head.

Malcolm beneath the water knew not what happened
on shore, and hoped he had passed unnoticed; but as a
matter of fact the alarm of “Spy in the river!” had been
instantly raised, and in a few seconds a dozen skiffs had
put out from either side of the bridge, whilst a hundred
sharp eyes were sweeping the river to catch the first sight
298 A DARING SWIM.

of the swimmer when he should rise. For a while Malcolm
baffled them. He did not know the imminence of his
peril, but caution warned him to be very silent and care-
ful: He lay upon his back, and only let himself rise for
a moment to take breath, and then down he sank again.
After having done this for some minutes, he began to think
his alarm needless. The swirling of the dark water pre-
vented him from either seeing or hearing anything that
went on about him. His ears were full and his eyes
half blinded, for the water was thick and muddy. At last
he was forced to come up in a more satisfactory manner
and gasp for air; and scarcely had he done so before he
heard a stern voice close at. hand speaking words in the
Spanish tongue equivalent to this command,—

“Do not shoot him; take him alive.”

Malcolm would have dived again, but it was too late.
Something whistled round his head, and a cord tightened
suddenly about his neck. The pressure was so great that
for a moment he-lost consciousness, and when he recovered
it was to find he had been hauled into a boat which was
being rapidly driven ashore. The rope was no longer
round his neck, but it bound his feet and hands. He was
wrapped in a mantle, and laid along the boat like a bale
of goods, and for a moment he was so dazed and giddy
that he knew not what had befallen him. His captors
were talking over his head, and thanks to the Spanish
words and phrases picked up from their guests, he was
able to understand the drift of what was passing.

“A spy from the city—come to examine the bridge,
A DARING SWIM. 299

doubtless. A brave youngster, whoever he be! Kill him?
well, perhaps, but not yet. It may be the Prince would
like to have speech. with him, and learn how they are
faring within the walls, and whether they still hope any-
thing from his Majesty of France. We can wait to hang
him till the morning. He may have somewhat to tell us
that the general would like to know.”

And presently Malcolm heard a word of command given
as they neared the shore—given by the officer in charge
of the boat:

“Keep him safe; clothe and feed him. Keep him till
the morrow. The Prince must know what we have found,
and settle what his fate shall be.”
CHAPTER XV.
A GENEROUS FOE.

HYSICAL fatigue has a wonderfully tranquillizing
Pp effect on the human nerves. Malcolm Wilford
knew himself a prisoner in the camp of the redoubtable
Spanish general, and fully expected to be hanged upon
the morrow; and yet no sooner had he been warmed, fed,
and clad, and laid himself down upon the pallet bed
shown to him by the soldiers into whose care he had been
put for the night, than he fell into a sound and dreamless
sleep, and slept profoundly until awakened next morning
by the unwonted sounds of camp life.

Opening his eyes in some bewilderment at the strange
and unfamiliar tumult about him, he recognized the fact
that he was sleeping in some sort of hut, roughly built
of planks, that his feet were strongly though loosely bound
together with a cord, and that he was in the keeping of
certain swarthy Spanish soldiers, who. were busy over
the preparation of a morning meal of no very sumptuous
description. He was dressed in clothes of a character
different from anything he had worn before in his life,
and was covered with a heavy mantle to protect him from
A GENEROUS FOE. 301

the cold, which was sufficiently keen in the early morn-
ing hours.

After a few moments of exceeding perplexity, Malcolm
remembered his swim of the previous night, and the sequel
which had made him a prisoner, and an odd thrill that was
not exactly fear, although it was just tinged with awe, ran
through him as he realized this was probably the last day
he had to live. Spies were invariably doomed to death.
Hanging was the best fate he could look forward to. He
thought of his home; of Gianibelli and his scheme for the
annihilation of the wonderful bridge; of the news he was
eagerly looking to receive from the swimmer. Was this
to be the end of all? Then he thought of Veronica, and
a mist rose before his eyes. Fearing to think longer lest
he should become unmanned, he sat up on his pallet bed,
and the men gathered about the rude table all turned and
looked at him. They had been speaking in low tones
amongst themselves all this while. Malcolm, who had
picked up a little Spanish from hearing Alphonso and
Diego talk, and had had a. little instruction from the
former in the language that was beginning to be familiar
to the ‘Netherlanders, caught here and there a word that
they spoke, and when he found himself observed of them,
wished them a good-morning in their own tongue.

They smiled at that, and bid him approach the table
and eat; and with some little difficulty, on account of his
fettered feet, he did so. They were not unkindly men,
and shared their not too liberal commons with him, asking
him questions, in mixed Spanish, French, and Dutch, of his
302 A GENEROUS FOE.

swim the past night, seeming amused and impressed by
the fact that he had swum all the way down from the
city in order to examine the structure of the bridge.

They called him a brave muchacho, and went so far as
to hope his life might be spared for his bravery. The
_ Prince was not like some of their former generals. He
was much more merciful, and valour was valour to one
who had a great reputation for personal bravery him-
self.

Malcolm was able to respond heartily when the praises
of Alexander were spoken; for the citizens of Antwerp
always gave him his due, even though his genius was their
chiefest danger. The meal had just ended, and the soldiers
were preparing to depart, when a firm footstep without
caused them to straighten their figures in a preparatory
salute, as they murmured to their captive-—

“Tt is our captain—he who took you out of the water
last night.”

In another moment a tall young officer entered through
the low door and dismissed the soldiers by a gesture,
remaining alone with the prisoner, who had risen to his
feet and was contemplating him eagerly.

“You are the spy that was captured in the river?” he
asked sternly ; and Malcolm bent his head as he replied in
his best Spanish,—

“Yes, Sefior; and if I do not greatly mistake me, you
are Don Rodrigo de Castro, whose brother—”

“ Brother!” interrupted the young man with impetuous
haste. “Boy, if thou canst tell me aught of my brother—
A GENEROUS FOE. 303

But stop. How knowest thou me? Hast seen my face
before ?”

“No, Sefior; it is from your likeness to Don Alphonso
that I knew you. He has told us of his brother, Don
Rodrigo, who was also with him in the city the night of
his capture.”

“Capture! He was captured then, not slain? I heard
he had been cut to pieces by a rabble rout in the square.”

“ And so he would have been, Sefior, had not my brother
interposed to save him and his comrade. The people were
greatly incensed, because, not many days earlier, our good
friends the Zeelanders had been cruelly maltreated by the
Spanish soldiers, as perchance you know; and our citizens
would have revenged themselves by doing the like to those
men. But they had sought shelter in the porch of my
home, and my brother claimed them as his prisoners, and
has kept them ever since. They were both so sorely
wounded that we scarce thought they would have lived.
But our women are excellent nurses, and we have skil-
ful surgeons in the city; so after some weeks they both
began to amend. They remain, however, yet with us,
my brother being responsible for their safe - keeping.
Prison life would soon make an end of Don Alphonso, and
we are all too much attached to him to wish to see him
. leave us.”

Rodrigo stood rooted to the spot, drinking in every
word spoken by his captive. His eyes shone strangely,
and at the end of the speech he suddenly made a step
forward and held out his hand to Malcolm.
304 A GENEROUS FOE.

“Boy,” he said huskily, “if my brother owes his life
and safety to the good offices of thee and thine, I will lay
down mine own life sooner than that a hair of thy head
shall be harmed. Tell me more of him! I had given
him up for dead. He is well and whole? He has recov-
ered from his grievous hurts ?”

“He is sound and whole in one fashion—he can go
about the house and be as others there; but he still looks
very white and thin, and there be times when we know
that he suffers much pain, though he speaks not of it.
He cannot bear cold or exposure or fatigue. If he takes
a walk with one of us along the streets, he is soon forced
to turn back. He cannot mount the steps to the ramparts
without losing his breath and looking spent and wan.
He still needs the care the women folk at home are glad
to give him, and a warm, quiet corner by the stove. Me-
thinks he would not live long if he were here in this camp.
It is well for him that he was left behind in the city.”

Rodrigo’s face, which had been full of eager hope, fell
somewhat as he heard these last words. Stepping to the
door of the hut, he gave a rapid order to a passing soldier,
and then turned back to ask more details as to the capture
of his brother and Diego.

Malcolm was telling the tale when another young
officer entered—a very splendid-looking man both as to
his own figure and his accoutrements; and Malcolm at once
guessed that this was none other than Don Carlos de
Cueva, of whom he had heard much from Alphonso. Nor
was he mistaken in his supposition.
A GENEROUS FOE. 305

Both listened eagerly to the story ; and Carlos exclaimed
beneath his breath at the close—

“We might have known Diego would get into mischief.
I would we had not left him! And he, you say, boy, is
sound and well; it is Alphonso alone who remains feeble
and weak ?”

“Don Diego is slightly lame, and methinks he will halt
for the rest of his life; but he is as strong and sound as
ever, and frets sorely at his captivity. He is not like Don
Alphonso, and will make friends with none of us. He
remains beneath our roof, yet he is a stranger to us all.
But Don Alphonso is like a friend and not a foe.”

“Rodrigo,” said Carlos, in a rapid undertone, “we can
surely get Alphonso now released. We will exchange him
for this boy here. His brother will rejoice to make the
exchange.”

“ Seiior,” said Malcolm, who had heard and understood,
“my brother will do even as you say, as I well know; but
if you would let me counsel you, I would not ask for Don
Alphonso back. He would die in a few weeks were he to
face the rigours of camp life in these inclement months;
nor is he fit for the fatigues of a journey to his own land
through a country devastated by war. Don Diego might
well be released to you. He frets like a chained hound,
and he could fight with the best of you despite his lame-
ness. But Don Alphonso would gird on his sword and go
into battle, and would fall before the first blow. Leave
him within the sheltering walls of Antwerp ; he will fare

better there, believe me. I think he is not unhappy; and
(444) 20
306 A GENEROUS FOE.

unless famine stare us in the face, he will not have any
hardships to endure. Our house is well victualled; my
brother’s wife took care of that long since. We can defy
famine there for many a long month to come, even if there
be no quick termination to the siege. Leave him with us,
and take Don Diego as your exchange; and when the
long siege terminates in one way or another, Don Alphonso
will be restored safe and sound. But to bring him hither
would be to bring him to his death.”

Rodrigo and Carlos consulted together for a few mo-
ments ; but Malcolm’s words had a ring of truth in them
which carried conviction, and the relief of knowing Al-
phonso to be living and in kind keeping was so great that
little else seemed to matter. To bring him back to the
camp with his health in the state described by the pris-
oner would be madness, and these two Spaniards knew,
as he could not, how very near famine often was to the
army of the belligerents.

“He will fare better there than here,” said Carlos, with
a slight shake of the head. “I would fain see his face
again; but it were kinder not to take him from the com-
fort of a city home. This lad will give him news of us,
and of our motive in desiring Diego rather than himself.
I would not have him here unable to fight or take his
part as of old; he would struggle till he dropped at his
post. He is better where he is.”

“Truly I think that myself; and that boy has an
honest face, and is a bold youngster to have done what he
has done. We must take him to the Prince and let him
A GENEROUS FOE. 307

tell his tale there. Then we will send him back to his
home, and methinks it will not be long before Diego will
be amongst us. They will scarce regret to part with him,
and he will fly hither like an arrow from a bow once he is
released. I misdoubt me if he will be as grateful as he
should to these good burgher folks who have sheltered
and tended him so long.”

Carlos smiled and shrugged his shoulders. They both
knew Diego too well to expect gratitude from him towards
those who had been instrumental in his capture, however
kind they had been. His was a fierce, proud, unforgiving .
temperament; but he was too good a soldier and officer
not to be welcomed back, and their general would be glad
to have news of him.

It was with a sense of great curiosity and interest that
Malcolm found himself standing in the presence of Alex-
ander Farnese, Prince of Parma. He had time to examine
this great personage as he held rapid talk with his two
young officers before addressing himself to the prisoner.
In height the Prince was nothing remarkable, although
his great strength could be detected by an experienced eye
in the wiry, muscular proportions of his frame, and in his
quick, alert movements. He was not handsome, and yet
there was great power in the face, the lower part of which
was almost lost in the bushy beard. The eyes were extra-
ordinarily quick and keen, with the rapidly-shifting glance
of the experienced swordsman. His head was round and
builet-shaped, and his features were regular and good.
But the strength of the face lay in its expression, which
308 A GENEROUS FOE.

cannot so easily be described. The gaze of the young
Malcolm was riveted upon it, and as he watched the quick
play of light and shade over the features, he did not wonder
at all the stories he had heard of the genius of Farnese.

After a few minutes’ rapid talk with his two officers,
the great general turned upon the lad and questioned him
in a quick, terse way as to his exploit of the night before.
Malcolm answered frankly and fully. He said no word of
Gianibelli or his scheme, but candidly admitted that all
Antwerp was anxious to know something of the construc-
tion of this wonderful bridge, and that he had volunteered
to swim down and try to examine it in detail. He had
hoped to avoid detection by his quickness in diving and
power of remaining for long under water; but the Span-
iards had shown themselves too watchful for him, and he
had fallen a prisoner into their hands.

The Prince listened with a grim smile on his face, but
the fearless bearing of the youth seemed to please him.
Moreover, he had heard how the burghers of Antwerp—
the family to which this youth belonged—had sheltered
and befriended two of his favourite officers in their hour
of need, and he was not going to be outdone in generosity.

“You have come to see this great bridge of mine, boy ?
Then you shall not be disappointed. You shall see it in
every detail; you shall study it to your heart’s content:
and then you shall return to your home and tell in the
city all that you have seen, and what chances there are of
breaking through this fortification. You shall go thither
without condition. That much I owe you and yours for
A GENEROUS FOE. 309

your good-will to my soldiers. I will ask nothing in
return.”

“But I know that something will be given in return
for such clemency and such courtesy, Sire,” answered Mal-
colm, interrupting with boyish impetuosity. “I pledge
my word that one of our prisoners shall be restored to the
camp. It rests but with Don Rodrigo to say whether it
shall be his brother or Don Diego.”

“T will settle that point,” answered Alexander, with his
habitual quick decision. “Let Don Diego de Escolano be
returned hither. We want here no sick men for the work
of the camp.” He bent a kindly glance upon Rodrigo as
he spoke thus, and added in a lower tone, “If it be with
Alphonso as this youth says (and methinks he is one who
speaks the truth), it would but be bringing him to his
death. We know what the hardships of this life are.
Let him remain where he is well off.”

“Tn truth, my general, I know that you are right,”
answered Rodrigo.’ “My own judgment says the same,
only that I long to look upon his face again.”

“That thou mayest do in any case ere long,” answered
Farnese, with one of his quick, rare smiles, and all his
listeners understood his meaning. He looked confidently
forward to a triumphant entry into the city ere long. “Now
take the lad away; show him everything, feed him well,
and send him back under safe escort through our outposts.
—Boy, thou art a brave lad; I would thou wert serving on
the right side. Go on as thou hast begun, and thou shalt
find a friend, an thou needest one, in Alexander of Parma.”
310 A GENEROUS FOE.

He turned away as he spoke and strode out, never idle
for a moment, and seldom speaking an unnecessary word.
Malcolm saluted him with something very like enthu-
siasm, and then followed his two conductors, who them-
selves showed him the whole construction of the great
bridge, not letting any detail pass unnoticed; for they
argued, as Parma had done, that each fresh evidence of
its strength and completeness would help to strike dis-
may into the hearts of the Antwerp citizens, and that
this report brought home to them by their own messen-
ger would be another blow as heavy as any they had felt
before.

It was no small condescension on the part of these
young nobles thus personally to conduct the city-bred
youth over the bridge; but Malcolm had come with news
of Alphonso, and as they walked, and as he used his eyes,
he could talk to them of the prisoner in Antwerp, no detail
respecting whom was uninteresting to his comrades in the
camp. Rodrigo had many messages to send. He was
half remorseful now that it was Diego who had been
selected for the exchange, should Lionel Wilford consider
himself bound by his brother's word, and send one of
his captives back. But the general had himself decided
the point, and Malcolm was well able to assure Rodrigo
that he believed Alphonso would himself have wished that
Diego should be released before him, seeing that the one
was fit for service and the other not; and that whilst
Diego chafed like an imprisoned tiger in a cage, his more
gentle-spirited comrade had learned to accommodate him-
A GENEROUS FOE. 311

self to circumstances, and to be content in his humble but
comfortable home.

And so, with many mutual words of courtesy and good-
will, Malcolm found himself dismissed by his kindly
captors from the Spanish camp, and sent off under the
charge of a captain and a few men to be conducted past
the outposts and through the lines, till he found himself
within his own defences again.

* * * * *

Meantime within the city walls the keenest anxiety
for the fate of Malcolm was being felt by those half-dozen
persons who knew the nature of the errand upon which
he was bent. Lionel had returned home after starting
forth his brother, and had snatched a few hours’ repose
before setting forth to try to meet him and bring him
home. It had been arranged between them that the boat
should carry a lantern in a certain position; and that
Malcolm, seeing this light, should make for it, and be
taken on board, Lionel being provided with stimulant and
food as well as warm clothing for the chilled and ex-
hausted swimmer. They had nicely reckoned the time
necessary for the examination of the bridge, and for the
return swim on the top of the rising tide; and Lionel
went to the tryst in the full hope of picking. up his
brother before long. But though he remained for hours
upon the dark river, there was no sign of the swimmer,
and as the tardy dawn broke over the wide expanse of
waters the heart of the watcher sank within him. Why
had he let the boy go on such a desperate venture? How
312 A GENEROUS FOE.

could any human frame stand that amount of exposure
and fatigue? And then the perils from the watchful
enemy, and the fearful disadvantages of a swimmer before
any armed man in a boat! He was terribly afraid that
some mischance had befallen the youth, and was almost
glad his mother had passed beyond the reach of anxiety
or grief. When the day had really come and nothing
had been seen of the boy, he gave up his quest and re-
turned mournfully home. If he came back now it would
be by another way. No human frame could have stood
twelve hours of exposure to the ice-cold water. With a
brow clouded with care he took his way back to Hooch
Straet, and his appearance there alone spoke volumes to
all who knew what was happening, and why Malcolm was
absent from the house.

“Thou must go to Veronica,” said Lionel in a low tone
to Maud, as they rose from the breakfast-table, after a
meal that had been delayed much longer than the usual
time on account of the absence of the master of the house;
“she will need somebody with her to bear the suspense of
the day. Tell her that I by no means give up all hope
of a safe return, but that plainly things have not gone
as we planned for them to do. Some untoward chance
has befallen. But Malcolm has skill and courage and
address. He may save himself by these, even though the
peril may have been greater than we contemplated. Go
to her and strive to hearten her. Let her not think that
all is lost.”

So Maud went off to the Italian’s house; Lionel to the
A GENEROUS FOE. 313

river-banks, to linger there and try to pick up news of his
brother from any boats that might be coming in. Roosje
went off as usual to the market; for there was still some
semblance of a market kept, albeit those things that yet
found their way into the beleaguered city were wondrous
scarce and dear. As the sun was shining brightly, old
Van der Hammer suggested to his wife that they should
take the children with them, and walk forth to see how
it fared with some of those friends of theirs in the city
whom they had not seen of late. A certain restlessness
seemed to pervade the whole household. It was as if all
had an inkling that something unwonted was astir, al-
though not all knew what it was nor whither Malcolm
had gone. They were used to the disappearance of their
men folk from time to time. Joris and Otto were scarce
ever at home for above an hour or two at once; and Mal-
colm had his duties too, though the militia was not often
called into active service at this juncture.

Thus it came about that Maurice and Coosje were the
only members of the household left at home, save the two
prisoners; and Maurice had seized this opportunity to
engross Alphonso in a discussion over a Latin poem he
had been long engaged upon, descriptive of the siege of
Antwerp, although it professed to treat of some city be-
leaguered by the Roman legions.

Maurice was the student of the family, and had dis-
covered kindred tastes in their guest. Alphonso, educated
at the College in Salamanca, was a youth of rather brilliant
scholarship for an age when scholarship was higher than
314 A GENEROUS FOE.

it subsequently became. He was ready enough to examine
the verses and discuss them with the youthful author ;
whilst Coosje sat at her wheel in admiring silence, mar-
velling at the erudition of her brother; and Diego lay
scowling, half reclined upon the broad settle, chafing
against the bonds that held him, and marvelling how his
companion could thus demean himself to enter into the
immature fancies of a burgher boy.

Presently Coosje bethought herself of something she
wanted that involved an expedition into the market-place,
and rising quietly she donned her cloak and hood and
passed silently out into the street, closing the door behind
her.

Suddenly, as this happened, a change passed over Diego's
face. A sombre light filled his eyes, and his limbs began
to twitch in a fashion indicative of keen emotion.

Now it had been a point hotly disputed between himself
and Alphonso whether or not he was a prisoner on parole.
Alphonso had passed his own word, and would sooner have
put a bullet through his brain than have broken it.
But Diego objected that he had given no pledge. He
admitted that his parole had been taken for granted,
but he still maintained that it had not been spoken; and
when Alphonso argued that this was only the outcome of
his long insensibility and subsequent delirium, and that it
would be dishonourable beyond measure to take advantage
of what was a mere oversight, and was understood to be a
bond on both sides, he only listened in sullen silence, mut-
tering that he did not see where the bond came in, and


A GENEROUS FOE. 315

that if people were careless, they must take the conse-
quences of that carelessness. He had long been secretly
brooding over the possibility of making his escape, and
now it seemed to him as though the moment had come
when he could put his project into execution.

Although no open and visible watch had ever been kept
upon the prisoners, who were both looked upon as men of
honour on parole, yet there -had been hitherto so many
persons always about, that practically all these months it
would have been very difficult for either of them to leave
the house without being observed ; and almost invariably if
they did desire to walk abroad, one or another of the men
of the family would accompany them to insure their safety
in the hostile city.

This had so chafed Diego that he had almost always
declined to leave the house, and his exercise had been taken
in the garden behind. This garden ran backwards for
some little distance, and there was in its high wall a small
door leading out into the narrow little Crommenellebogh,
which, as he now knew, led straight down to the Hoy Kay
and the river.

"In the plans he had been fond of laying, even when he
had no hope of being able to put them into execution,
owing to his lameness, he used often to think of the little
door and that narrow dark street. Turning out of it at
right angles, a little below the door, was a still narrower
and darker alley, leading between the blank walls of the
gardens that lay behind the Hooch Straet and a parallel
thoroughfare; and he had often wondered whether he
316 A GENEROUS FOE.

might not slip into this dim place, secrete himself in some
doorway till it grew dusk, and then, wrapped in_his
mantle, slip down to the river, and make off in a little skiff
unseen and unheard, to float silently down the dark water
till he reached the first fort, where he would be safe from
pursuit.

When he had laid his plans he had not seriously thought
of carrying them out, because the chance appeared as
though it would never come. But now, behold it was his
very own at this moment! He had every detail of his
plan complete in his head. Why not act instantly ?

Almost mechanically he rose from his seat, and with
some sarcastic remark to Alphonso declared he should go
upstairs. The weather was now a little less severe again,
and he had been wont to remain for the whole day shut
up in his room.

“T shall want no dinner but this,” he remarked, as he
helped himself to a hunch of bread and some cheese on
the shelf. There was nothing very remarkable in his
saying this, for it was known that the long flights of stairs
separating the kitchen from the upper chamber allotted to
the guests tried Alphonso not a little; yet he would not
suffer any member of the household to wait upon his com-
rade when Diego’s sullen temper kept him from joining
the family below.

Diego went heavily and slowly up the stairs, and shut
the door loudly behind him. Once there, however, his
manner completely changed, and became active and cau-
tious. He looked himself well over, and was apparently
A GENEROUS FOE. 317

satisfied that he looked far more a Dutchman than a
Spaniard. He then stole into a neighbouring room, and
brought thence a long, dark, heavy cloak belonging to
Lionel, but not often worn owing to its weight. It had a
high collar that when put up almost concealed the face of
the wearer; and a hat with a falling brim was soon found
in the same room. Thus attired the young Spaniard
looked marvellously like Lionel; for their height was some-
thing the same; and though Diego still limped a little,
and would to the end of his days, he was able to conceal
this pretty well when he moved slowly. Then he looked
round the room at the various weapons which lay about,
and reached out his hand for a sword that stood in a dark
corner. He felt a thrill run through him as he did so,
half of exultation, half of shame. In his heart of hearts
he knew that he had no right to gird a sword about him,
or to go forth from these hospitable doors in the fashion
he meant to do. But sheltering himself behind a subter-
fuge unworthy of that honour which a Spanish nobleman
always prided himself upon holding untarnished, he let his
ardent longing after liberty lead him astray, and a few
minutes later he stood breathless and panting in the nar-
row Crommenellebogh, casting sharp glances about him to
right and left, and pulling the hat closely over his eyes to
make the disguise more complete.

But he need not have feared. As it so chanced, there
was nobody about to observe him; and Diego was so little
known to the neighbours that he might almost have walked
through the length and breadth of the city unchallenged.
318 A GENEROUS FOE.

It was his guilty conscience rather than any real danger
that made him slink into the still narrower alley, and find
for himself a hiding-place which he thought would com-
pletely conceal him for as many hours as were needful
before the dusk enabled him to put his plan into execution.
He argued that it would be hours before he was missed—
probably not till night—and then he would be far away
on the river. Or if by chance his flight were discovered
earlier, he would never be looked for so close at home, and
might still by cunning and caution—

“Lionel! Lionel! what dost thou here ?”

Diego’s pleasant reverie was thus interrupted by a voice
he well knew. He had been but half-an-hour in his
hiding-place ; and what evil chance had brought this girl
down upon him? A fierce, wild thought sprang up in his
heart, and with a sudden menacing gesture he turned upon
her, and she started back with a little cry of amazement.

“You, Sefior!” she exclaimed, and then it was. plain
that the truth burst in upon her. “You!” repeated
Coosje, in accents of strong contempt. “A prisoner on
parole! Is this Spanish honour ?”

The taunt caused him to gnash his teeth, for the shaft
had struck home.

“Take care, juffrouw, take care!” he hissed through
his closely-shut teeth. “Have a care how you speak to
me. I am not on parole; my word was never asked or
given.”

“ Ah, I see; only understood. Spanish honour again!”

He made a step forward and grasped her by the wrist.
A GENEROUS FOE. 319

The place was absolutely lonely. He could have run her
through the body as she stood, and the crime might have
remained for days undetected. She knew that better
perhaps than he; but she had the fighting spirit of the
despised burgher race within her, and she did not fear
him, even though the light of murder was in his eyes.

“ Mistress Coosje,” he said, in the same hissing whisper,
“you had best have a care what you say and do. Pass me
your word to go home and say nothing of what you have
seen, and to feign complete ignorance when my absence is
discovered, and I will let you go unharmed; but if you
refuse—”

“T do refuse, Sefior,’ she answered, her dark eyes
flashing. “I will lend myself to nothing so base as such
an escape as this. Kill me if you choose; we women of
Antwerp have long faced the thought of dying at the
sword’s point of the brave Spanish soldiers, who love to
wage war against helpless women and babes. Kill me if
you choose—it would be all in a piece with the noble
bravery of your present conduct—but I will never, never
make myself a party to your dishonourable flight. We
men and women of Antwerp have a standard different
from the vaunted one of your Spanish grandees. We
hold our word as our bond, spoken or implied ; and our
men seek men as their antagonists, and wage not war on
women. Yes, strike me, Sefior—strike me to the earth; I
fear you not. We can but die once; and when death
comes we can’ but face it boldly, as those may do who are
not afraid to meet it!”
320 A GENEROUS FOE.

She stood facing him like a lioness at bay: small and
slight as she was, there was intrepid courage written in
every line of the slim figure and the dark, mobile face.
Diego had drawn his dagger, and in his eyes was a blaze
of fury; but though he had struck many women to the
earth before, and that almost in cold blood, he found he
could not strike this girl even in the height of his passion.

With something very like an oath he dropped his
weapon to the earth, and it stuck in the dust point down-
wards. Coosje might have possessed herself of it at that
moment, but she made no attempt to do so, maintaining
her former attitude without letting her eyes stray from
his face.

“Will you kill me, or will you return with me?” she
asked calmly. “I trow it must be either one or the other.
For if you do not kill me, and will not come back with
me, I must summon instantly the guard, and you will be
thrown into the city prison and loaded with fetters. I
ask you if you will then be in better case than with us.
Now, Sefior, I linger not here in talk; you must make
your decision quickly.”

He would willingly have strangled her as she stood, and
marvelled at his own folly in not doing so. He knew not
why he restrained his hand; but he had lifted it once in
vain, and would not risk another attempt. He felt that
some power which he did not understand restrained him
from laying hands on this girl. The vindictive scowl still
furrowed his brow, but his hand had dropped to his side.

“ And if I return with you?”
A GENEROUS FOE. 321

She seemed to divine his meaning, and spoke quickly
and earnestly.

“Sefior, pass me your word of honour—pass me your
parole, which you say you have given to none as yet—and
we will return together as though you had but escorted
me on mine errand, and we were returning in like fashion.
There be none to ask questions at home. Maurice is in
the clouds, and all else are abroad. Give me your word,
and I will tell to none this false step of yours. I trow
when you have had time to think of it, you will see it as
I do.”

Sullenly, yet without hesitation, moved by a power he
did not understand, Diego silently unloosed the sword he
had girded to himself, and placed it in Coosje’s little hands.

“T yield to you, mistress,” he said. “I never thought
to give up my sword to a woman. My word I pledge
to you. Until you restore the pledge I hold myself
bound on parole.”

A quick, bright smile beamed over Coosje’s face. She
took the heavy weapon and held it thoughtfully for a
moment. Then she held it out to him and said with a
smile,—

“Carry it for me, if you please, Sefior; it is heavy for
me.” -
And thus they retraced their steps homewards side by
side.

(444) 21
CHAPTER XVI.
BRIGHTER DAYS.

“ ROTHER, here is Malcolm coming down the street.

B It is Malcolm, albeit he looks more like a Spanish
soldier. Where can he have got his clothes from?” and
Coosje turned round in the room, her eyes full of wonder-
ment, which did not diminish as she saw the effect pro-
duced by her words.

“Malcolm !” cried Lionel, starting up and crossing the
room with great strides. “Heaven be praised, it is he,

1?

alive and well!” and without another word he strode
from the room and through the entry towards the door.
Maud’s face had turned from pale to red and from red to
pale. Her eyes were full of the sudden tears which had
started to them.

“ Oh, thank God he is safe!” she murmured beneath her
breath ; and Coosje looked at her with wondering eyes.

“Where has Malcolm been? Why are you so excited
about him?” she asked softly; but Maud was too much
agitated to enter into explanations. |

“Thou wilt know all soon, dear Coosje. He is here to
tell his tale—O Malcolm, dearest Malcolm! can it really
be thine own self ?”
BRIGHTER DAYS. 323

“Why, yes; it would seem so, sister mine,” he answered
gaily, as he warmly returned Maud’s passionate embrace.
“How dost thou like thy Spanish brother? Is he not a
marvellous fine fellow in these borrowed plumes ?”

“O Malcolm, Malcolm! hast been in the hands of the
Spaniards?” and the girl shivered lightly as she spoke.
“O my brother, I can scarcely believe it is thou. Does
Veronica know that thou art safe ?”

“Ay, she does. I went thither first, just to show her
all was well, for I knew her anxiety would be as sore as
thine. And where are our Spanish guests? I have news
for them which will please them, I trow.—Ah, Sefior,” as
Alphonso advanced towards him with a look of vivid
interest and curiosity upon his face, “I have a letter for
you from your brother. As good-luck had it, it was into
his hands that I fell when I was hauled out of the water
and taken into the Spanish camp. I knew him from the
likeness betwixt you; and marvellous kindness did he
show me when he heard what I had to tell of you. Oh
yes, I have been mightily well treated in the enemy’s
camp, good friends. I can no longer let it be said that
our foes are always cruel and bloodthirsty. I deserved
nothing more nor less than to be hanged as a spy; and
behold me here in your midst, clothed and fed, and as
handsomely treated as heart could wish.”

They were all crowding round him to hear his story,
and whilst he told it with graphic detail, Alphonso stood
aside reading his letter by the dying daylight which stole
in through the window. Diego was not there. He was
324 BRIGHTER DAYS.

upstairs in their own chamber, as was often his way. He
had been present at the mid-day meal, but had since dis-
appeared, Alphonso read his letter with quick eagerness,
the colour fluctuating in his cheek as he did so. He
looked eagerly round for his companion as he reached one
place in the missive ; but as he was not there, he returned
to his perusal of the closely-written page, and read it to
the last word.

Then he stood leaning his brow against the glass, lost
in thought. He started as a gentle voice spoke at his
side.

“Sefior, methinks it is hard that Don Diego should
have his liberty before you, the more so that it was his
rashness which led to your capture in this city.”

Alphonso looked round to find Maud standing beside
him. The room was full of noise; Malcolm’s adventure
was being discussed by the whole party, with many cx-
clamations and no little clatter of tongues. Practically
those two in the recess were alone together; no one was
listening to or observing them.

Alphonso’s eyes were strangely bright, as the eyes of a
man who is passing through some mental excitement or
crisis. Hardly seeming to know what he did, he put out
his hand and took one of Maud’s in his clasp. She flushed
quickly, but made no motion to withdraw it.

“Lady,” he said softly, “I do not think that I regret
the decision our general has made. I am glad for Diego
to have his liberty; but for myself, I do not seem greatly
to desire it.”
BRIGHTER DAYS. 325

She looked wonderingly at him. Her face was very
beautiful in its expression of trustfulness and sympathy.

“T am glad we shall not lose you—if you are willing
to stay,” she answered softly. “You are indeed not fit
for a soldier’s life yet. It would grieve us to think of
you suffering hardships and privations. It is better to
remain where you can be cared for until this inclement
winter weather be over.”

His eyes shone brightly as he asked gently,—

“Sweet Mistress Maud, would it grieve you to think of
me as suffering hardship in our camp again ?”

“ Indeed, Sefior, it would,” she answered softly. “You
are so little fit for it. Methinks a month of that life would
kill you.”

“T can well believe that myself,’ he answered; “and
yet it was not that thought which made me glad to re-
main here.” Then raising the hand he held a little, he
asked in the same soft tone, “And would you grieve to
think that I was dead, when so many gallant soldiers fall
daily in one camp or another? What is my life more
than theirs ?”

Maud made no attempt to answer, but softly drew away
her hand, her heart beating thick and fast as she realized
with a strange pang what a blank in her life would be
caused by the death or the absence from their circle of
this young Spaniard. She was frightened at the force of
her emotions, and her reply was very falteringly spoken,—

“Nay, Sefior, it is always different when those fall whom
we know and love ;” and then, as if half afraid of the sound
326 BRIGHTER DAYS.

of her own words, she shrank away from him, and joined
the group standing around Malcolm, slipping her hand
within his arm, as if for protection against herself. She
did not want to think any more about Alphonso just then,
nor the words which had passed between them. Maurice
had been despatched upstairs to summon Diego to hear the
good news in store for him. Lionel had at once said that
of course one of the prisoners should be sent back to
Parma’s camp in return for the clemency and good-will
shown to his brother. All were glad that Diego rather
than Alphonso should be the one to leave them; although,
as Maud had said, it seemed rather hard that he who had
provoked the quarrel and the subsequent capture should
be the one first to obtain his liberty. But Alphonso did
not take that view.

“Tt was my doing that the adventure was planned.
But for my curiosity we should never have run into the
peril at all. I have often told myself that the fault was
mine, and felt it hard that Diego should suffer for it;
and he suffered more than I, for I have been happy here,
owing to the unfailing kindness and courtesy shown to
me by all. I am glad, indeed, to think that my brother
has been able in some sort to repay the debt of gratitude
which I have contracted here.”

“Tt has been repaid fourfold,” said Lionel with some
emotion, as he laid his hand upon Malcolm’s shoulder.
“Jf this boy had perished ignominiously as a spy in the
hands of the Spaniards, I should never have forgiven my-
self for letting him go.”
BRIGHTER DAYS. 327

By this time Roosje had lighted the lamp, and the
supper was being laid out with a festal air upon the table.
Unwonted dainties graced the feast to-night, in honour of
Malcolm’s happy return. As Diego came into the room
with a perplexed look upon his face (though the habitual
sullenness had vanished since the morning, and had not re-
turned), Lionel stepped forward, and taking down a long
- Spanish sword that hung against the wall, he presented
it to: him, and said,—

“Don Diego de Escolano, I here return to you your
sword and your word of parole. You are no longer my
prisoner, but a free Spanish subject—free to return to
your master’s camp at your own pleasure. Wait till the
morning as our guest, and then we will send an escort
with you past the lines and forts of Antwerp, and you
shall be given safely into the hands of your countrymen.
From this moment you are a free man, and a prisoner on
parole no longer.”

A dusky flush had arisen in Diego’s cheek as these
words were spoken, and his glance roved wonderingly
round the room, and fastened at last upon the face of
Coosje. He seemed to ask a question with his eyes; and
perhaps she understood the meaning of the question, for
she slightly smiled and shook her head, though no one
else in the room saw the little by-play between them.
Alphonso had come forward, and was explaining in rapid
Spanish what had befallen Malcolm that day, and how
their general had decided that of the pair of prisoners it
was Diego who should return to him, if one were given
328 BRIGHTER DAYS.

in exchange. For a moment Diego seemed disposed to
resist—the listeners did not catch everything that passed
between the comrades, although the drift was understood
by them—he was urgent for a few moments that Al-
phonso should be the one to go; but a perusal of Rodrigo’s
letter, and a further explanation from his friend, seemed
to show him that they had better abide by the decision of
others; nor did Alphonso wear the aspect of a man upon
whom some heavy disappointment had fallen.

“He is either wondrous generous, or he is happier with
us than one supposed,” mused Lionel ; “and doubtless he
knows he is little fit for the soldier’s life of that camp.
Yet methinks he is not one to shrink from active duty.
Can it be that he is attracted by the freedom of our faith ?
He is often anxious to discuss with us points of doctrine
and the interpretation of Scripture. Perchance the light
is making its way into his heart. It is marvellous how
clearly it will shine when men once begin to turn towards
the Sun of Righteousness.”

Supper was a joyous and festal meal that night. The
health of the Spanish general was drunk amid general
plaudits, and a spirit of amity and good-will prevailed
amongst the party which Diego did nothing to spoil. In-
deed, he had never been so agreeable, modest, and cordial
as he appeared now, and the scornful intolerance of his
manner had totally disappeared.

That evening the stove in the long room was lighted,
and the party once more adjourned there to spend an hour
or two. Several friends dropped in to hear the rights of
BRIGHTER DAYS. 329

a story that was being whispered abroad with regard to
Malcolm’s wonderful escapade. The reason for his daring
swim down to the bridge was kept a secret; but that he
had wished to examine its structure somewhat closely
seemed natural enough, and his description of it was
listened to with the greatest interest.

Meantime Diego watched his opportunity, and when
Coosje chanced to be alone in a rather obscure corner of
the room, he suddenly marched down upon her and said,
in a quick, impetuous way,—

“Mistress Coosje, I desire to thank you for what you
saved me from to-day. You were right, and I was wrong.
And here I ask you whether you give me back my parole ;
for to you I am yet bound, and without your consent I
hold myself yet a prisoner.”

“You have your word back, Sefior,” answered Coosje,
her eyes lighting. “I gladly restore it; and if I have
said aught amiss to you in taunting you unjustly, I ask
your pardon. My temper is quick. I sometimes forget
myself; and perchance my tongue has sometimes run away
with me,”

“Ido not think you have ever spoken a word I did
not richly merit,” answered Diego, with unwonted humility.
“T thank you for showing me this day what manner of
man I was, and for saving me from a deed which must
have tarnished my honour for ever. I shall not forget
that I owe you a debt—a debt for that, and a debt for
your silence, where nine women in ten would have cried the
thing aloud in the market-place. Mistress Coosje, I am not
330 BRIGHTER DAYS.

ashamed to go away your debtor; and if in days to come
it is mine to have the chance to show mercy to a country-
man of yours, I will remember the mercy shown to me,
and will repay it in as far as my duty permits me.”

“J thank you, Sefior,” answered Coosje, with her flashing
smile; “and I shall gladly think of this, and remember that
we part as friends.”

“And I would fain have something of thine to remem-
ber thee by when I shall belike see thee no more,” said
Diego, with more of feeling in his face and voice than she
had credited him with possessing before. “Thou art the
bravest maiden I have ever met. Wilt give me some-
thing of thine as a keepsake ?”

Greatly surprised and a, little flattered by the request
(for Diego in this mood was like a lion bound with chains
of roses), Coosje cast about in her mind what she might
give him. It was not a lover’s token, for there was no
sentimental feeling in her heart towards him, nor had he
addressed one syllable of love to her; but there was a
secret between them which seemed to make a bond, and
although it was probable they might never meet again, she
was not sorry that he should sometimes think of her.
She debated in her mind a while, and then loosened from
her neck a little agate heart which she wore there. It had
been given her by her old nurse—a Papist, though a good
woman and faithful to the core; and as a child she had
believed that certain valuable properties had attached to
the lifeless thing. The growth of reason and knowledge in
her mind had dispelled much of the illusion, but she still
BRIGHTER DAYS. 331

continued to wear the heart, and it was not to every one
she would have given it; but she felt that Diego would
prize it more than she did.

“See, Sefior, you shall have this. It has been blessed
by the Pope, and they say it will keep the wearer safe
from harm. I hold not with such beliefs; but yet I was
wonderfully preserved from harm to-day. Take it. Per-
chance it may be of some help to you—not to preserve you
from bodily peril, but to keep you in mind of your vow of
merey when your hot blood is stirred. In that way it
may help to withhold you from the peril of cruelty and
bloodthirstiness. But, see, my sister is regarding us. I
must not linger here longer.”

Coosje moved away from his side, and Diego thrust the
little token into the breast of his jerkin. In this softened
mood he vowed not to part with it, although likely enough
he might never see the donor again.

On the next day he took his departure, under the care
of Lionel and a few troopers. He was conducted to the
Spanish lines, and there made over to his countrymen with
great show of courtesy on both sides. These little inter-
ludes in the midst of the war made pleasant breaks in the
monotony of the siege, and showed to the belligerents that
the common tie of brotherhood still existed between them.

Old Gianibelli listened with the closest attention to
Malcolm’s account of the construction of the bridge. He
cared no whit for the personal adventure, nor the dire
peril in which the youth had been placed. His mind was
bent upon the thought of destroying the famous work and
332 BRIGHTER DAYS.

winning immortality for himself; and all other matters
were mere trifles to him, hardly worth a second thought
When the young man ventured to remind him of his
promise and ask when he might espouse his daughter, his
suit was received with a short, dry laugh.

“Marrying and giving in marriage! Will the world
never learn better of its folly? What do you want with
a wife, boy, when Antwerp may be destroyed any day, and
you and your house exterminated? Do you think you
will escape if Parma enters with his Spanish legions and
gives over the city to pillage and the sword? Peace, boy,
and think no more of such folly! Am I to give my
daughter to marriage, knowing that she may be made a
widow before another year has run its course ? ”

But Malcolm did not see the matter altogether in that
light, although he was not unwilling to admit that this
was hardly, perhaps, the time for making marriages. After
a great deal of discussion and railing, he wrung from the
‘old man a permission to betroth himself solemnly to
Veronica. To the lovers this was almost enough, at least
for the present—more than they had dared to hope; but
Malcolm was now of immense use to Gianibelli in his
labours, and in his own selfish and sardonic fashion he was
fond of the boy. He would have minded little enough had
he been killed in some of the skirmishes that went on daily
around the city; but as long as he was there to help him
he was glad enough to use him. He argued that in all
probability the bold youngster would be killed before the
close of the siege, and Veronica released from her troth-
BRIGHTER DAYS. 333

plight. He had a superstitious regard for his word which
made him half afraid to refuse what Malcolm asked, but
he entertained an unnatural hope that he would be released
from the necessity of carrying out his promise.

Meantime the work of the “hell-burners,” as he had
christened his fire-ships, proceeded steadily and rapidly ;
and in very truth the vessels seemed to merit the name
given them.

To explain into what manner of vessels these infernal
machines were made by the exertions of Gianibelli and his
associates (for he had the assistance of two clever men of
Antwerp—Bory the clock-maker, and Timmerman a mech-
anician), it will, perhaps, be simplest to quote verbatim the
words of the historian Motley, whose fascinating account
of the siege of Antwerp deserves to be read and studied by
every lover of history. This is what he says of Gianibelli’s
fire-ships :-—

“In the hold of each vessel, along the whole length, was
laid down a solid flooring of brick and mortar, one foot
thick and five feet wide. Upon this was built a chamber
of marble mason-work, forty feet long, three and a half
feet broad, as many high, and with side-walls five feet in
thickness, This was the crater. It was filled with seven
thousand pounds of gunpowder, of a kind superior to any-
thing known, and prepared by Gianibelli himself. It was
covered with a roof six feet in thickness, formed of blue
tombstones set edgewise. Over this crater rose a hollow
cone or pyramid, made of heavy marble slabs, and filled
with mill-stones, cannon-balls, blocks of marble, chain-shot,
334 BRIGHTER DAYS.

iron hooks, plough-coulters, and every dangerous missile
that could be imagined. The spaces between the mine
and the sides of each ship were likewise filled with paving-
stones, iron-bound stakes, harpoons, and other projectiles.
The whole fabric was then covered by a smooth, light
flooring of planks and brick-work, upon which was a pile
of wood. This was to be lighted at the proper time, in
order that the two vessels might present the appearance of
simple fire-ships intended only to excite a conflagration of
the bridge. On the Fortune a slow match, very carefully
prepared, communicated with the submerged mine, which
was to explode at a nicely-calculated moment. The
eruption of the other floating volcano was to be regulated
by an ingenious piece of clock-work, by which, at the
appointed time, fire, struck from a flint, was to inflame the
hidden mass of gunpowder below.”

It will be seen from this description what deadly mon-
sters these two “hell-burners” were intended to be, and
how careful was the labour bestowed upon them by the
master-mind that had planned the whole thing.

One of his ships he had christened the Fortwne, and the
other the Hope. ‘To give such names as these was thought
a good augury; and as the work progressed slowly but
surely, a feeling of hope arose within the hearts of many
of the citizens of Antwerp. Already the pinch of want
was beginning to be felt within the walls. It was not
famine yet. Real famine was still some distance off, in
spite of the folly the burghers had shown in the matter of
victualling their town, but it was near enough to excite
BRIGHTER DAYS. 335

anxiety and a feeling of restless impatience, and anything
which promised deliverance from the iron hand of the
besieger was feverishly welcomed by the city.

Gianibelli was still personally unpopular, and any measure
of his regarded somewhat askance; but as time went by,
and the monster fire-ships still continued to progress, and
important and influential men like the Van der Hammers
and the Wilfords approved and applauded the skill of the
contriver, a different feeling began to prevail, and the city
came to look forward with eager impatience for the time
when the preparations should be complete and the floating
volcanoes launched to do their work.

And just now there were gleams of light in the sky
which cheered the hearts of the patriot party shut in
within the walls of Antwerp. The Prince of Parma had
long cast covetous eyes upon the important city of Ostend,
the possession of which by his enemies was a perpetual
hindrance to him. He had sent out a strong expedition
against it, and it had been carried by surprise. But the
Spaniards had made exactly the same blunder here that
their enemies had done at Bois-le-Duc; and the soldiers
dispersing to pillage the place before it had really been
Secured, the military and citizens within the walls had
rallied against them and driven them ignominiously forth,
slaying great numbers; and Parma had had to own him-
self ignominiously defeated.

At this juncture, too, the absolute hopelessness of the
delusive French negotiation became known to Antwerp.
The French monarch, after keeping the delegates waiting
336 BRIGHTER DAYS.

all this time, buoying them up with false hopes, playing
one of those interminable games of intrigue which it has
taken three centuries to unravel, mocking them, dallying
with them, serving them in a fashion which raises the ire
of the reader even now, had at last flatly declined the
proffered sovereignty of the Netherlands, and had thus
brought to an abrupt close the hopes of the patriot party
that France would come to their aid.

The eyes of the city were opened at last. Antwerp had
nothing to hope for save from her own energy and from
her old allies of Zeeland. It was as if the city on fully
understanding this awakened suddenly from a long and
deadly trance. There were those within her walls who
rejoiced to see an end put to these delusive negotiations in
which they had never trusted, and which had had the effect
upon the burghers that a narcotic drug has upon the human
frame, paralyzing and numbing its activity and inducing a
deadly languor; but there was plenty of the old fighting
spirit still left in them, and when they once realized how
they had been tricked and befooled, their one ery was for
vengeance, vengeance, vengeance !

It was not against France, however, that any step could
be taken. Indeed, France still affected a warm interest in
the welfare of the patriot party; but something must now
be attempted against the beleaguering foe. If Antwerp
were to be saved now, she must be saved by her own
efforts. For there was no help for her beyond that which
the patriots of Holland and Zeeland could furnish.

“We will do something; we will show the haughty
BRIGHTER DAYS. 337

Spaniards that, French or no French, we can still show
fight!” And then a quick and secret enterprise was planned
to recover the treasured fort of Liefkenshoek, the loss of
which the people of Antwerp had never ceased to regret.
Count Hohenlo, thirsting to retrieve his reputation so
seriously damaged at Bois-le-Duc, had taken up his position
at Lillo, the fortress on the opposite side of the river.
Joris and Otto were still with him, and still retained their
reputation as the swiftest and most trusty messengers
whenever communication was wanted with the city.
Through them the family in Hooch Straet was well
posted up in the news, as these stalwart messengers passed
to and fro. The Zeelanders, who were always ready for
any expedition by water, were to join with the soldiers
from Lillo and make a sudden and furious attack upon the
fortress. And then, as the Burgomaster had strictly laid
down in his despatches, if once successful there they were
to push on to fort St. Anthony, farther along (the dike of
St. Anthony joined the river-dike at Liefkenshoek); and
if they succeeded in capturing this place, the whole of the
high ground of Doel would be theirs. Then so soon as
this was done it was of paramount importance to send a
strong party along the river-dike towards Kalloo. The
dike just below that place had been ruptured, but if a fort
could be run up upon that ruptured end, the bridge could
be battered by artillery, and possibly gradually demolished.
If once these places could be carried there was hope yet
for Antwerp. Hither the bridge must go or the Kowenstyn

Dike be pierced, Only in one of these two ways could
(444) 29
338 BRIGHTER DAYS.

there be relief for the city. Just at the present juncture
there seemed greater hope of destroying the bridge than
the dike.

Great was the excitement within the city. It was
known that the great “hell-burners” were now ready—
that the work of the patient Italian was complete—and
that, so soon as the tide was favourable to the attempt, the
Fortune and the Hope, together with a whole fleet of
smaller and practically harmless fire-ships, were to be sent
forth on their mission of destruction. At last the city was
awake; at last she realized that to her own energies she
must look if she were to be saved.

All the place was astir; every ear was strained to catch
the sound of firing from the distant Liefkenshoek upon
the night of the attack and sudden surprise. April had
now come, and with it the first promise of spring. — It
seemed as though with the awakening world of nature the
burghers of Antwerp were likewise awaking to a sense
of their peril and their responsibilities. Every man from
the city who could be spared had joined the garrison at
Lillo. It was not easy, with Parma’s bridge between, for
men to get from one place to the other; but there were
ways and means for the hardy and fearless to run the
gauntlet of the Spanish sentries, and though some bold
youths fell a prey to their audacity, there were others who
got safely through, though many more had to return to the
city unable to accomplish their ‘object.

Three days of tense anxiety went by, and then the
welcome news was brought by the brothers into the city.
BRIGHTER DAYS. 339

“Victory! victory! no blunders this time, and only

1?

one small disappointment !” cried the eager youths, as they
stood on the steps of the church to give their message to
the excited crowd. “Liefkenshoek is ours—carried at a
blow! St. Anthony is ours—taken after a short, sharp
fight! Our good friends the Zeelanders were there with
their boats. By sea and by land we beat them, and half
the garrisons are slain by the sword or drowned. They
say the Prince of Parma has beheaded the officers who
commanded those forts, and who escaped with their lives
to tell the tale at Kalloo. I can well believe it of him,
for they showed marvellously little fight. To be sure, we
took them by surprise; but they had no business to be
caught napping. The only point where we failed was to
get possession of the end of the dike by the bridge. The
great Alexander was before us there. Whilst we were
flinging ourselves upon St. Anthony he realized what our
next step would be, and he sent his own forces there to set
up a fort where we had hoped to plant one, and the Spanish
flag was waving there in the morning; and it was too near
to Kalloo and all Parma’s force for us to dare to attempt
it. But Liefkenshoek is ours, and St. Anthony is ours.
Antwerp is showing what she can do, and I trow that
this first victory will not be the last!”

Shouts and cheers rent the air. The people were like
those mad with joy. The messengers were carried on the
shoulders of the crowd to the Burgomaster’s house, where
they told their tale again. Joy-bells were rung, and had
not economy to be carefully studied the whole city would
340 BRIGHTER DAYS.

have been illuminated. It was not that this victory was
in itself so marvellous, or so immediately advantageous to
the city ; for whilst the bridge stood between the walls and
those fortresses which commanded the river lower down,
no very great good could come to the citizens from the fact
that they did command both banks. But it was the feel-
ing that the tide of misfortune had turned at last which
made glad all hearts in the city that night. They had
begun to feel that disaster waited on all their undertakings;
that some spell was upon them, some demon-power fighting
against them which nothing could break. To have carried
out successfully one plan, to have effected without serious
blundering this single expedition was like an elixir to them.
The spell seemed broken which bound them; they began
to ery aloud that their star was rising again and that of
Parma setting. Antwerp would be saved !

That joyful cry was in every man’s mouth that night.
Even Lionel, who was not wont to be elated by trifles,
was cheerful and hopeful as he sat discussing with his
brothers-in-law the details of the assault.

“It matters the less that the fort upon the dike was not
erected, because the fire-ships are now ready; and the
Burgomaster is of opinion that no time should be lost in
following up one blow by another. I was with him to-day.
He went down with me to examine the work, and was
greatly struck thereby. He and the crabbed Italian were
marvellously friendly. Our Burgomaster is a wonderful
man for adapting himself to his company. There will now
be nothing to wait for. Parma has in these last weeks
BRIGHTER DAYS. 341

received several heavy blows. I trust and hope that the
one in preparation for him to-morrow may be the hardest
of all.”

“Tf the bridge can once be swept away, or even a
breach made, all will be well,” said Joris. “The Zeeland
fleet are awaiting this new attempt, anchored about Lillo
and Liefkenshoek. I am to see the Burgomaster to-
morrow early, and take final instructions from him anent
the code of signals to be arranged betwixt them and the
city. But if the Italian’s infernal machines can only do
the half of what he claims for them, Antwerp may by
this time three days hence be practically a free city once
more |”

Roosje clasped her hands together in a sort of ecstasy.

“Pray Heaven it may be so,” she cried, with a little
sob. “It is a terrible thing to be thus shut in and be-
leacuered.”

“Otto I must leave to your care, sister,’ said Joris.
“He has a nasty flesh-wound in the shoulder, which will
keep him from acting messenger for a while. Keep him
safe at home, or he will give you the slip yet; and make
him sound and whole as fast as you can. It is like
going without one’s double when I go alone on mine
errands,”

Otto growled at the thought of being left behind. but
was obliged to submit, as to travel in a maimed condition
was but to court peril for both. He had had some
trouble in reaching the city that day with his brother's
help. He was resolved not to be left behind when there
342 BRIGHTER DAYS.

was such good news to tell; but he knew he could not
start forth again upon the next morning.

“But no matter,” he said; “I shall be here to see the
fire-ships started. And, Joris, when the way is clear, and
the great bridge torn in twain, see that thou art in the
first of the Zeeland boats which will come sailing up the
river into the city.”

“Trust me,” answered Joris gaily: “I will take good
care I am not left behind.”
CHAPTER XVII.
THE FIRE-SHIPS.

“ WILL not have it so! He will ruin it all! I say

I will not have him! Who says that he shall
intermeddle—the fool who runs away and blunders over
everything he takes in hand? He shall not spoil my
plans——he shall not! It is not to be tolerated for a
moment !”

The Italian was speaking in the greatest excitement.
He clinched his brown, thin hands together; his eyes
sparkled and flashed with a passion that was terrible to
see; his small body worked with fury; and he seemed
about to fly at Lionel, who was speaking to him, as though
he were some noxious ‘and deadly foe.

“My good friend,” answered Lionel, whose face was
clouded, and who did not appear to resent the anger
which he was striving to pacify, “with the method in
which this plan is to be carried out neither you nor I
have any concern. That is in the hands of the authorities
of the city, and we cannot possibly resist their deter-
mination.”

“I will resist it!” yelled Gianibelli furiously ; “I will
344 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

resist it to the death! I will blow up my own ships and
the whole city with them sooner than give them into the
care of yon cowardly fool, who would ruin the best plan
that was ever yet laid. Nay, it is useless to speak to me;
it is useless to argue with me. I will hear nothing—
nothing — nothing! O ye city of fools! why did I
ever try to come to your aid? O ye blind: brutes and
beasts! would I had blown the whole scum of you into
the air before I had striven to come to do your bidding!
Is the labour of weeks and the salvation of the town
to be thrown away through the blind, cowardly incom-
petence of one man? It shall not be so—I swear it shall
not! Go back and tell your Burgomaster that sooner than
let Runaway Jacob touch one of my vessels, I will blow
them to pieces with my own hands, and all Antwerp
with them !”

Things were plainly getting serious. Malcolm gave
his brother a warning look, and said in quiet, soothing
tones,—

“Let me go and see the Burgomaster. JI can tell him
more of this work than any one else, seeing that I have
been with you in it from first to last. I will go and put
it all before him, and come and bring you word again.
Perchance when he hears all he will not withstand you.
Let me go and see what I can do.”

Gianibelli had turned his back, and was already in his
den, the door of which he slammed in their faces with
a bang. During all these past months that he had had
dealings with this irascible Italian, Malcolm had never seen
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 345

him so angry. He was almost afraid he would carry out
his threat in his passionate fury; and telling Veronica
to keep careful watch upon his movements, he took his
brother’s arm and Jed him out into the street.

“ Did he not know before how things were to be done ?”
asked Lionel.

“T did not know he was in ignorance,” answered Mal-
colm. “True, his thoughts are all with the design itself,
and the adjustment of the slow match and of the clock-
work have engrossed his mind to the exclusion of almost
all else these many days. But I had not thought he
would be taken thus by surprise at the last. It will go
hard for the city if he refuses to let the vessels go.”

“He cannot do that,” answered Lionel briefly. “They
ave the property of the city, and not his own. All the
material has been provided him out of the public stores,
and already the ships have been taken possession of by the
pilots who are to conduct them the first part of the jour-
ney. These men have all received minute instructions
from him. Practically his work is now done, though I
am sorry enough that it should end like this.”

“I would myself that the charge of the undertaking
were given to anybody rather than Admiral Jacobzoon,”
remarked Malcolm. “ What dost thou think of him thy-
self, Lionel? Is he fit for the task in hand ?”

“T would sooner it had been given to another man,”
answered Lionel, with a slight gesture of the shoulders
that bespoke a certain amount of contempt. “ Koppen
gaet Loppen is not beloved in the city, nor are his talents
346 THE fFIRE-SHIPS,

as a commander thought much of. Our Burgomaster
would, I believe, have willingly appointed another and a
better man; but it is not easy to pass by the Admiral,
and give an expedition so important as this into other
hands. Moreover, Jacobzoon has many friends on the
Board, and when the question of his competence was
raised, there was a warm dispute. The will of the many
always carries the day here in Antwerp, and so it has
been with this. I see not why Jacobzoon should not do
the duty demanded of him as well as any other man;
but—”

The pause was significant. Malcolm gave a quick look
at his brother.

“Thou dost not trust him, Lionel ?”

“T trust his good-will in the cause, but neither his
courage nor his competence. We know how our Burgo-
master declared that but for his cowardice the enemy's
fleet would have been captured coming down to Kalloo;
and when a man has blundered once, one finds it hard to
trust him again. But then, as the Board clearly pointed
out, in this service no fighting is required of him; and no
man can say that he is not competent to watch and report,
and signal the Zeeland fleet if a breach be made in the
bridge.”

“Ts that what it is his duty to do?”

“That is all his duty, in so far as Gianibelli and his
fire-ships are concerned. The matter stands thus :—The
Admiral is to despatch the fleet of ships in a certain
fashion, as laid down by the Italian with the approval of
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 347

the Board. The thirty-six small vessels—pure fire-ships—
are to be started in lots of six at a time, every half-
hour, from dusk till all are sent on their voyage, and then
the Fortune and the Hope will follow, one behind the
other. They will have their pilots, as thou knowest, to
steer them a part of the way down towards the bridge ;
but these will silently leave them in skiffs before they
approach too nigh, and return rapidly to the city ere the
explosion occurs. The Admiral will be waiting for that
explosion in an appointed place; and so soon as it has
taken place he will send forth a barge—probably he him-
self will go in it—to see whether or not a breach in the
bridge has been made, and what is the amount of damage
done to the army of our enemies. Should he find that
our purpose has been effected, and that there is a cleft in
the bridge, he sends up a rocket; and at that signal
our brave allies the Zeelanders, now waiting and watching
at. Lillo, will immediately sail fearlessly into the city with
a store of provisions that shall keep us from all fear of
famine for many long months to come. In the morning,
so soon as it be light enough to see, the combined fleets of
the city and the Zeelanders bear down upon the shattered
bridge and sweep it away into the swirling waters of the
Scheldt. Oh, methinks that if the Italian’s inventions be
one-half as harmful as he dreams, by this hour to-morrow
the siege of Antwerp will be at an end, and the crown of
laurel plucked from the head of Alexander of Farnese i
Malcolm’s eyes glowed. It was not often that Lionel
allowed himself to speak in terms of enthusiasm and hope.
348 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

He was always careful not to expect too much, and to give
full consideration to the many difficulties in the path of
any great achievement. But this plan of Gianibelli’s had
been carefully and closely studied by him, and he had
assured himself of the probability of its success. It was
as simple as it was terrible, and he did not believe it
would fail. And if the breach were really made in the
bridge, the thing must be quickly discovered by those set
to examine; and the signal would bring their allies sail-
ing into the city long before the startled and shattered
Spaniards could combine together for resistance.

There was good hope to believe that the flower of thei
army would be blown to pieces; for it was certain that
Parma and his generals would be gathered together upon the
bridge, watching the action of the fire-ships, and ready to
extinguish any conflagration which might break out along
the palisade. This, indeed, was part of Gianibelli’s plan.
He wished to engross the thought and the attention of
the army with these comparatively harmless boats, that
the approach of the dark monsters might not be observed,
and might only excite derision when they did appear.
Probably by that time the Spaniards would think that the
Antwerp fire-ships were but a child’s playthings after all,
and would mock at rather than fear the approach of the
two slumbering volcanoes.

All this was fully understood by the Wilford brothers,
who had helped in a measure to plan the whole under-
taking, and by the Burgomaster, who had been from the
first disposed to think hopefully of the plan. He received
THE FIRE-SHIPS, — 349

Lionel courteously, and listened with knitted brow as he
told his tale of Gianibelli’s wrath and fierce threats; but
at the latter he only smiled.

“The fire-ships have now passed out of his keeping into
that of the city authorities, and he could not touch them
even if he wished. He must remember that now they
have become a part of the fleet, and have been placed
under the charge of the Admiral. Neither he nor I have
power to alter the plan laid down by the Board. It has
been fully discussed in the Council, and the Broad Council
has also had its say. Iam far from saying that were I
master here I would not have settled something different ;
but as you know, and as all Antwerp should know by
this time, I have little more power than a simple citizen
burgher. I will seriously caution the Admiral to use his
powers discreetly, and to be zealous in the discharge of
his duty. More than that I cannot do. But if you think
it would please or pacify the old man, I will presently
visit him in his house, and will strive to show him that
the matter may be trusted to go well. If his machines do
their work, not even Admiral Jacobzoon can rob him of
his triumph.”

The Burgomaster was as good as his word. When he
_ had done all in his power to assure himself of the zeal and
discretion of those immediately concerned in the expedition,
and had satisfied himself that everything was likely to go
well, he made his way to the dark little narrow house, and
found the old man shrunk together in a sort of heap in a
dark corner of his den, his head resting upon his hands.
350 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

his whole frame looking collapsed and meagre. This was
often his way after one of his violent outbreaks of passion.
He would retire into his den, and remain motionless and
speechless for hours. His daughter never dared to address
him at such a time, and those who knew his ways gener-
ally kept their distance till the sullen mood had passed.
But the Burgomaster was above being deterred by the
unpromising aspect of the man, and sitting down near to
him told him anew in detail everything that had been
planned, expressing regret that the arrangements did not
meet his views, but explaining that it was impossible now
to change anything, and that he trusted his fears would
prove groundless. Blunders enough had been made in
Antwerp to shake the confidence of the world—he fully
admitted that; but in this instance all was such _plain-
sailing that there was little to fear.

“Tf your fire-ships do their part,’ concluded Sainte
Aldegonde, with the pleasant geniality of manner which
had often stood him in good stead with his refractory
burgher coadjutors, “I think I may promise that the
Admiral will do his. He cannot well help knowing what
has been the result; and even if his head is somewhat
thick, he has but to fire off a rocket, and his work so far
as you are concerned is done. I think we need have no
fears on that score. So cheer up, my friend, and you and
I will keep watch to-night together within the Boor’s
Sconce, which will be, I reckon, the best vantage-ground
for seeing the rocket go up; and you shall be the first to
carry the news to the great square, where all Antwerp, !
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 351

irow, will be watching and waiting, and where the bells
shall be set pealing to carry the joyful news to every
citizen in the place.”

The magic of the Burgomaster’s silver tongue was not
altogether thrown away upon Gianibellii He saw that
the great man at least believed in him and in his ships,
and that was something. Also there was a natural reaction
from the intense passion of the morning; and although
still sullen and deeply affronted by the method agreed
upon with reference to the sending forth of his fleet, he
no longer combated it fiercely, or talked wildly of firing
the volcanoes and destroying the city. He looked up with
the red fire gleaming in his sombre eyes, and his voice
was quiet, although bitterly sarcastic.

“My fire-ships will do their part. Have no fear of
that, Signor Burgomaster. I will answer for them. I
would you could answer as well for your own servants.
Mark my words—Koppen Loppen will ruin everything.
You smile now; perhaps you will not smile some days or
hours hence. But, after all, what do I care? My work
will be done; the bridge will be shattered. My name will
live for ever side by side with that of the Prince of Parma,
who is worth all you fools of Antwerpers put together.
What is it tome whether Antwerp rises or falls? Nothing,
nothing, nothing! I will do my work, for the sake of
mine own honour and renown. If it comes to naught the
shame will be yours, not mine. I care not. I wash my
hands of results.”

There was something strangely sinister in the old man’s
352 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

tones and in the fiery gleam of his eye. The Burgomaster
felt a cold thrill run through him; it was as though some
prophet of ill had spoken—some prophet who had power
to read the secrets of the future. Sainte Aldegonde was
not entirely devoid of the superstitions of the age in which
he lived, and the belief in witchcraft was common still
even amongst those professing the purer faith. This
bright-eyed Italian had long passed in the city as a necro-
mancer and a wizard. Was it possible he was able to
read the secrets of the future, and know what was about
to come to pass through the agency of the stars, or by
other occult methods? Sainte Aldegonde would willingly,
even at the eleventh hour, have made some change in the
plans laid down by the Council had he possessed the
power; but he knew that to attempt it would probably
bring a hornets’ nest about his ears, and so. mortally offend
the Admiral-as to court the very peril he was striving to
avert. After all, was it not foolish to be so much affected
by the words of this passionate and irascible man? He
was known to be possessed of a peculiarly violent temper,
and of a boundless contempt for Dutchmen in general, and
for Antwerp citizens in particular. This contempt might
not be altogether unmerited, but it did not conduce to a
just estimate of the powers of the man under discussion.
So argued the Burgomaster to himself, and tried to
dismiss from his mind the misgivings the Italian’s words
had aroused. He went again to look at the ships, again
he went over every detail with the placid Admiral, who
was perfectly certain that everything would be right, and
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 353

could not understand the subdued anxiety and urgency of
Sainte Aldegonde’s manner.

All Antwerp was in a fever that day. The success at
Liefkenshoek had filled the city with joy. It seemed as
though the tide had now turned in their favour, and all
were confident that to-night the great bridge would be
annihilated. The rebound of spirit from deep depression
to almost feverish exultation had set the whole place in a
ferment. As the day drew to a close this excitement
visibly increased, ‘and it was well known in the city that
there would be no sleep for Antwerp that night.

The alleys to the river at certain places were guarded
by soldiers, otherwise the people would have come pouring
down in such numbers to see the start of the fire-ships,
that there might have been danger of confusion and mis-
take. A few persons only were allowed on the Boor's
Sconce with the Burgomaster and Gianibelli; and amongst
those few were Lionel and his brother Malcolm, who were
known to have been in the confidence of the Italian wizard
from the beginning.

The little fleet of small vessels, together with the two
great “hell-burners,” were anchored a little lower down
the river than the Sconce. Glianibelli had paid one last
visit, under the charge of the Burgomaster, to see to the
final adjustment of the clock-work and the slow match;
and now he stood rigid and silent, leaning against the
stone-work, his thin hands twisted tightly together to
conceal their tremulous twitching, his face like a carv-

ing in yellow ivory, his eyes glowing with lambent fire:
(444) 23
354 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

a strange, weird figure, fit to be the master-spirit of
this weird and fearful expedition. As the shades of
evening fell, the strange fire in those dark eyes seemed
to glow more and more brightly, as the stars in the sky
become more luminous when the daylight fades.

And now from the expectant knot about him there goes
up a little gasp, and a thrill runs through all frames. ‘The
first little fire-ship has started forth upon its voyage, and
scarce has one gone before another follows, and then an-
other, and yet another, and thick and fast the little fleet
is sped upon its way with the first of-the ebb. Gianibelli,
who has been gazing with all his eyes, counting the vessels
and twitching in every nerve with tense excitement, now
breaks into rapid speech.

“T said so! I said so! I knew he would ruin all if he
could! What was he told? To send them off slowly,
steadily, gradually, at intervals. What is he doing? There
they all go, helter-skelter, in a body, ready to entangle each
other, ready to run aground in a mass, all in confusion—
no order, no method! Oh the fool, the fool, the blind
fool! O city of madmen and imbeciles! What care I
whether ye come to ruin or no? Do ye not richly deserve
your fate ?”

Sainte Aldegonde was not a little displeased at the haste
which the Admiral showed in sending off the fiery little
fleet; and this disregard for orders was not encouraging,
after the precise nature of the directions given to him
With a hasty exclamation of irritation and surprise, the
Burgomaster quitted the Boor’s Sconce to go and remon-
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 355

strate with the thick-headed Jacob, and get him to re-
member better his instructions. But it was not easy to
approach the spot owing to the crowds of people thronging
the alleys and lining the river-banks. When the Burgo-
master at length forced his way through the crowd, and
had gained the landing-stage from whence the start was
being made, he found himself too late. The two great
vessels had been started off immediately in the rear of
their small heralds, and already the barge containing the
Admiral and the sailors selected by him to accompany him
had followed. Sainte Aldegonde clinched his teeth and
muttered between them some words anything but com-
plimentary to Koppen Loppen, and slowly returned to his
former post. It seemed to him that there was something
ill-omened in this impetuous and ill-judged haste at the
start. It might not make any real difference to the fate
of the little vessels thus sent forth, but it was an infringe-
ment of the orders laid down; and if a man failed to obey
instructions in one point, might he not do so in-others ?

He was received on his return with a sneering question
from Gianibelli.

“The Admiral is showing the mettle of which he is made
right well, Master Burgomaster, is he not? He is living
up to his name of ‘Runaway. He is in a mighty hurry
to set things going. Will he be in as much haste to return
to the safe shelter of the city when the volcanoes open
their mouths and belch forth fire and’ stones and every
hurtful missile? Look to it, ye blind fools of Dutchmen :
your Admiral will yet ruin all!”
356 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

Sainte Aldegonde strove to pacify the angry man, but
his own heart had begun to misgive him. He wished now
that he had insisted upon accompanying the Admiral him-
self, as he desired; but he had let himself be dissuaded on
the ground that when the rocket rose to tell the city of
the triumph of the fire-ships, the Burgomaster would be
needed there to direct operations, and to prepare for the
concerted attack upon the Spanish camp, by which the
first successful onslaught must be followed up.

It had seemed such a simple office just to follow the
ships and make sure of the amount of damage done. A
child could almost have been intrusted with the task.
The Council had laughed to scorn the suggestion that the
Admiral was not the best man for it. It was exactly the
office, they said, he was best fitted for; it involved no
activity, no fighting, no personal risk or forth-putting, but
only a power of patient waiting and subsequent recon-
noitring, which he seemed eminently to possess. The
Burgomaster had been obliged to admit that for such
services as these Jacobzoon was certainly not unfit; and
yet, now that the man had gone and the arrangement
could not be changed, he felt himself consumed by 4
terrible fear lest after all some new blunder should be
made, and this well-planned scheme frustrated.

But the conditions of wind and tide were all favourable
to the little fleet, and Malcolm, who had accompanied them
along the ramparts as far as it was possible to do so, came
back with the cheering report that in spite of the dis-
orderly way in which the boats had been started, they
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 357

were almost all pursuing a straight course down the wide
river; that though near together they were not running
into each other or flaring up too quickly; indeed, so far
as the watchers along the banks could see, the little fleet
was bearing down upon the bridge as well as though
directed by human agency.

Somewhat mollified, but still scornful and morose, Giani-
belli stood apart, and took no share in the eager talk that
went on about him. Indifferent to the fate of Antwerp
he might be, but he was not indifferent to the fate of his
own cherished project. Were that to succeed, he believed
that his name and fame would ring through every Court
in Europe, and that the supercilious Spaniards, who had
flouted him in their pride a year or two before, would
shudder at the sound of his name. This thought was to
him like the elixir of life; hence his intense absorption in
the fate of his fleet, although for the city of Antwerp he
cared no whit.

It was a strange and almost terrible time of waiting—
waiting as the night grew darker and colder, as the moon
rose higher in the sky and seemed to look questioningly
down upon the strange aspect presented by the city all
awake and abroad; waiting, waiting, watching with that
Strained expectancy that betokened a life-and-death sus-
pense. And indeed it did seem as though for Antwerp
life and death hung in the balance. Let that bridge once
be swept away, together with the choicest of Parma’
army, and Antwerp would again be free, free, free! and

the long, long war might soon be at an end!
358 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

What was that ?

Watchers from a height looking over the sullen waters
of the flowing river had seen a great flash. A column of
flame shot suddenly up into the air; the top of that fiery
column was seen by those waiting and watching upon the
Boor’s Sconce, and the vivid though transitory glow in the
sky was visible for one strange, intense moment to the
whole city.

Then a pause of death-like stillness, in which it seemed
as though the fall of a pin would have been heard from
end to end of the hushed and breathless city, and then—
what ?

A. crash, a roar, a shaking of the very foundations of
the houses, a quivering even of the mighty walls. Win-
dows rattled, walls quaked, the earth seemed to heave and
sway beneath the feet of its terrified yet exultant citizens.
Women shricked and clung to each other in an agony of
mingled emotion; men broke into exclamations of wonder
and triumph; and all through the city there was a stir, a
flutter, a sense of strange exultant vibration. Now had
the time for action come; now had the blow been struck!
They must awake like a giant refreshed from the long
apathy which had lulled them into fatal sleep. The tide
had turned. Now they were to ride triumphant on the
erest of the advancing wave!

But upon the Boor’s Sconce, where the few most keenly
interested spectators stood, an intense silence reigned. At
the sound of the explosion one quick exclamation had
broken from the lips of each person there, but then a deep
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 359

silence had fallen. For they knew that the fact of the
explosion having taken place was not everything. The
kernel of the whole matter lay in the question as to the
effect that explosion had taken upon the redoubtable
bridge. Had it occurred too soon it might have battered
without making a breach; or by one of those untoward
chances so common when explosives are employed, the
structure might have almost entirely escaped damage. At
that distance it was impossible to estimate the force of the
shock. That it had been great was testified abundantly
by the effect it had produced upon the city buildings; but
had it been great enough to do what was required? Had
the fire-ships been as near to the bridge as had been calcu-
lated by the mechanicians who had had the adjustment of
the fuses? These were questions asked of himself by the
anxious Burgomaster ; but he spoke no word and made no
sign, only stood watching with a sickening sense of anxiety
for the rise of the rocket which was to tell them in
Antwerp of success, and to be the signal for the start of
the Zeeland fleet waiting below at Lillo, and ready with
its load of grain and provision for the eager citizens of
Antwerp.

That rocket never rose. With an awful sense of crush-
ing despair the watchers upon the Sconce waited and
watched. The Italian with the fiery eyes stood as if carved
out of stone, and none dared to speak a word to him of
the failure of his cherished plan. Hour after hour they
waited, first in eager hope, then in strained expectancy,
last in dull despair. All around them the city seemed full
360 THE FIRE-SHIPS.

of sound and strife—the people eagerly begging to be al-
lowed to rush to the boats, and dash down to the scene
of the explosion, to welcome their allies who would be sail-
ing up to the city; the municipal authorities, who better
understood the nature of the undertaking, holding them
back, and striving to make them understand that till the
Admiral signalled the destruction of the bridge it was not
safe to take action of any kind. If the bridge remained
unbroken, what use to adventure their lives in the neigh-
bourhood of the furious Spaniards? No; they must wait
—wait for the signal—wait for the rise of the rocket.
So they waited and waited with sinking hearts, till just
before the cold break of day the barges with the Admiral
and his rowers returned dejectedly to the city.

Nothing had been done, they declared ; the great bridge
remained unbroken as before. They had waited till the
first effects of the explosion had passed away; for at the
first no living soul could breathe the foul air, tainted by
the scent of thousands of pounds of gunpowder. Then
they had cautiously reconnoitred; but nothing had been
done, nothing effected. The bridge stood as before from
bank to bank. The Spanish soldiers, undaunted even
then, were marching and countermarching upon it, with
a wary eye ever on the river, lest an attack by ship should
be made. All had been done according to plan; but it
had been a gigantic failure. Antwerp was still shut in.
Her deliverance had not yet come.

“Tt is a lie, a lie, a lie!” yelled Gianibelli when the
news was at last brought to him; “it is one foul, villan-
THE FIRE-SHIPS. 361

ous lie! I know it, I know it, I know it! The bridge has
not escaped! By the soul of the Blessed Virgin I swear it!
Do you think, ye fools and dolts, that my work can fail
like this? I tell you it is your cowardice that will ruin
this city ; my work has not failed!—Master Burgomaster,
man yon vessels and go down and see. Send up a hundred
rockets, to warn them of Zeeland to come to our aid. I
tell you, man, the bridge is wrecked; I tell you I know
my ships have done their work. Bitterly will you rue
the day if you act not now. To your ships, I say, to
your ships, and save your city, if you have the heart of a
mouse amongst you!”

For a moment Sainte Aldegonde was almost persuaded.
He made one step forward as if about to give some order ;
and then came the fatal pause, as he asked himself what
the city authorities would say if he told them he was act-
ing merely in obedience to the frantic commands of the
mad Italian wizard. Would they listen? would they
obey? He knew that they would but laugh him to scorn
for a madman and a fool. Already the revulsion of feel-
ing had come—anger, disappointment, and an angry con-
tempt for the man who had promised such great things,
and had only raised their hopes in vain.

The moment for action had passed; nobody would
stir hand or foot now. With a gesture almost of despair
the Burgomaster shook his head, and slowly, without an-
other word, bad or good, returned to his own house.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

TEGO, on his return to the Spanish camp, had been
D warmly welcomed by his comrades in arms, and
graciously received by Parma himself, who had summoned
the young man to his tent, and had questioned him closely
as to the condition of the city, the temper of the people,
and the probable length of time that they would be likely
to hold out against famine and other hardships.

Diego answered all these questions without reserve.
He said that at present there appeared to be little real
scarcity in the city, although the citizens were learning to
be very careful, and to husband their resources assiduously.
He said that there was still the same feeling of deter
mination to hold out at all cost; and as he left before
the failure of the French negotiation had become known,
he reported that they were still very confident that help
would be sent them from France, and were as indisposed
as ever for surrender.

Parma was almost as ignorant as the burghers of Ant
werp as to what would be the result of this long-draw?
negotiation, and he was very anxious to bring the siege #
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 363

an end before his prey could escape him; but as he had no
force sufficient for any more active measures than those he
had taken, he was forced to await with patience the result
of the blockade he had succeeded in establishing, and it
was something to know that the store of provisions in the
city was beginning to show signs of reduction.

Diego told the Prince of the Italian’s project of burning
or blowing up his bridge by means of fire-ships, but added
that the burghers had refused him the necessary muni-
tions, and that the scheme was therefore at an end. The
Prince did not believe in the possible destruction of his
bridge much more than Antwerp had believed in its con-
struction, and no great heed was given to this narrative.
Diego himself fully believed that the whole project had
been abandoned, and in the delight and satisfaction of his
new freedom and resumption of military duties, he speed-
ily forgot most of the troubles and hardships of his recent
lot, and scarcely gave the old Italian and his fire-ships an-
other thought.

Diego was besieged by Rodrigo and Carlos with ques-
tions respecting Alphonso, and could only reply that so far
as his bodily state went he was far better within the city
than in the camp. What was the matter with him Diego
did not know; but that he had received some grave injury
was evident from the fact that he could not now walk
about much or exert himself in any way without bringing
on severe pain. The physicians of the city had declared
that it was an internal injury which caused this, and that
tecovery could only take place by means of absolute rest
364 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

and quiet for many months to come. In the house of the
burgher folks who had sheltered them he could get this
rest ; and indeed anything else was out of the question,
as he was a prisoner, and seldom left the house except to
stroll a short distance through the streets, or to pace the
garden to and fro. In reply to Rodrigo’s feverish ques-
tions, Diego was able to answer that the captive seemed
wondrously content, and never chafed against his bonds,
as ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have done.
Carlos opined that this was the result of physical weak-
ness, and Rodrigo agreed with him. The contents of the
letter Alphonso had sent them certainly indicated a mind
at ease, and expressed wondrously little impatience at the
long captivity. True, it was an inestimable boon that he
had no prison hardships to put up with. He was in a
house where he received every care, and where the truest
kindness was shown to him; but although there was much
of satisfaction in that thought under one of its aspects,
Rodrigo felt a qualm of anxiety upon another point, and
presently asked of Diego,—

“ Are these well-meaning people heretics ?”

“To the very core—heretics of the most fearless kind,
holding meetings within their house, and talking openly
such blasphemies against the Holy Church and the Blessed
Virgin as would be enough to doom them all to hell fire.
I had never thought to have to sit and hear such things
spoken. It was enough to make one’s hair stand on end!”

“ And Alphonso—how did he bear such talk? He was
always the first to stand up against evil words in our camp.”
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 365

Diego shrugged his shoulders.

“Nay, ask me not; I know not the thoughts of other
men. It seemed to me that Alphonso took marvellously
kindly to these heretics, one and all. He would listen to
their blasphemous talk with his eyes all alight, and when
he should have been ready to fling back their false words,
and cram them down their throats again, he would ask
a question—a question of a heretic, think of it!—and
listen with eager attention for the answer. I had never
thought to hear such words from any son of Spain as I
sometimes heard from him. But I strove to hear as little
as I could of these matters. Neither your greasy burghers
nor their vile doctrines had any charm for me.”

Now that he was once more under the influence of his
old associates, Diego’s old swagger and assurance were fast
returning. It had been noticeable just at first that he
spoke more temperately of his adversaries, and he even
admitted that he had been well and handsomely treated
by them ; but this feeling was now wearing off, and he was
fast becoming the same reckless, almost ferocious, soldier
as of old. His revelations did not tend to soothe the
fears Rodrigo and Carlos had entertained respecting their
favourite comrade ; and Carlos exclaimed in surprise at
any such breach of religious discipline from one so well
instructed as Alphonso.

“What would you have when a maid’s bright eyes are
Working witchery over a man’s soul?” asked Diego, with
@ shrug of the shoulders. “Those heretics know well how
to bait their traps. Alphonso is but a lad, and a hot-
366 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

hearted lad to boot, ready to be inflamed with admiration
by the first pretty face he sees. Straight from college to
the camp, that has been his life, and a woman is to him
a being from an unknown sphere. Can you wonder at
the boy, when the fairest maiden of them all is set to lure
him with her soft words and sweet smiles ?”

This indeed was serious, and the elder men felt it to
be so.

“What mean you, Diego? Alphonso speaks here of no
woman in particular, only of great goodness received from
a whole household.”

“T misdoubt me if Alphonso yet knows whither the

>

current is setting,” answered Diego with a short laugh.
“But I have eyes, if he has not, and Mistress Maud Wil-
ford is pretty enough to turn a wiser head than his ; though,
for my part, that blonde English beauty is not much to
my taste. Give me dark eyes, and a spirit with a spice
of the devil in it. Your golden-haired saints pall upon
my palate, especially if they be heretics to boot. But, if
I mistake me not, the boy is fast losing his heart, and
that is why the doctrines of the heretics are so wonderfully
palatable to him, whether he knows it or not.”

All this was very unwelcome news to Rodrigo and Car-
los, who were both proud men, and could not understand
how Alphonso could demean himself by stooping to admire
a low-born burgher maiden, even though she had some
claim to beauty. They would fain have had him back in
the camp, even though he might be little fit for his duties
there. The peril of leaving him in the city was like to be
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 367

greater than of having him under arms. And as Carlos
said, a soldier’s death in the service of his country was a
hundred times better than a life of sin beneath the ban of
the Church, with a heretic maiden as a wife.

However, nothing could be done now, and they had to
wait with what patience they might until the fall of the
city gave Alphonso back to them. That Antwerp would
fall eventually few of Parma’s officers seriously doubted.
They had boundless confidence in their general. They
were by no means so well aware as he himself of the
desperate condition into which the army was falling.
That the soldiers were ill-fed and ill-paid they knew well
—they could not fail to do so; but they were always
buoyed up by hopes of speedy and efficient succour from
Spain. They did not understand the temper of the mon-
arch they served as well as Parma did, and not even to
his chosen friends amongst those who served under his
orders did the heroic general betray the anxiety, the
almost despair, which often consumed him.

The repulse and disaster at Ostend, and the rapidly-
following misfortune at Liefkenshoek, aroused the Spaniards
to the consciousness that the victory was not yet theirs.
Perhaps some amongst them had been a little apathetic ;
certainly the commanding officers of the two captured forts
had shown a lack of watchfulness and courage, which they
expiated with their lives, by the command of the stern
general, who spared not himself, and who looked for like
devotion from those beneath him. But although the com-
mand of the river below was now altogether in the hands
368 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

of the rebels, the bridge yet stood—an invincible barrier
between their fortresses and the city. So long as that
remained intact, that and the great Kowenstyn Dike, so
long was the city at the mercy of the Spaniards. A small
advantage here and there might inspire the rebels with
hope; but by only one of these two roads could she re-
gain her freedom, and she appeared powerless to organize
any efficient scheme for demolishing either of these bul-
warks,

But a rumour reached Parma’s ears that something
was to be done by the citizens at last. The French had
openly abandoned them, as he had prophesied; and they
were stirred up to some bold step on their own account.
It was known that the Zeeland fleet, which had assisted
at the capture of Liefkenshock, was still lying between
that fortress and Lillo, as if in readiness for some new
undertaking. A messenger sent out to reconnoitre had
brought back word that a number of ships laden with
provisions were lying with the war-vessels, plainly with
the idea of victualling the city. There could be no mis-
taking from these signs that an attempt was to be made
to throw supplies into the town. In order to do this,
either the bridge or the Kowenstyn Dike must be threat-
ened. Apparently this time it was the bridge that was
to be attempted.

Parma and his men were all on the alert. They had
been forced to send away a certain number of soldiers the
previous day to erect a new fort on the broken end of the
dike which ran straight to Liefkenshoek, or the rebels
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 369

might have taken them at a disadvantage. Diego had
been told off for that service, and had acquitted himself
manfully there. He and another officer now held the fort
with a few hundred men. He was therefore not with the
main body encamped round and about the bridge upon
this eventful night, although he was scarce two bow-shots
distant.

A sudden shout from the sentries posted upon the
bridge warned the wakeful general that something had
been seen; and calling his officers about him, he sped to
the scene of action, although, save for the exclamations
of his own men and the hurrying tread of approaching
feet, there was nothing to break the silence of the spring
night,

The shout from the sentries had been caused by the ap-
proach from the direction of the city of one or two small
boats. There was certainly nothing alarming in the
presence of these little craft, save that they were probably
the precursors of larger ones to follow. The call to arms
Was sounded at once, and along the dikes, as well as
upon the bridge, soldiers seemed to spring up as by
magic, armed to the teeth, ready and alert, waiting and
watching in breathless expectancy for what was to follow.

Nor did they watch in vain. Suddenly, one after an-
other, these little vessels began to glow and sparkle, and
to shoot forth toneues of lambent flame. Some of those
coming down from above were blazing even as they ap-
proached. Soon the banks on both sides of the wide river

were lighted up by the lurid glow of the flames, and the
(444) 24
370 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

sullen water reflected the glare, till the whole scene was as
bright as day.

A deep silence had fallen upon the multitude along the
banks. What was the meaning of this gorgeous but
somewhat purposeless display? The small vessels, even
though some of them floated straight down upon the raft,
burned themselves harmlessly out against its damp sides.
Others smouldered, blazed, and went out, still floating
peacefully down the ‘river, whilst a proportion grounded
against the river-banks, and were at once extinguished by
the soldiers, who sprang fearlessly into the water and
submerged them.

Parma stood with his little knot of chief officers upon
the bridge, anxiously watching the weird scene.

“These be the fire-ships of which Diego told us,” he
said in low tone; “but if there be nothing worse than
these, we may laugh them to scorn. Yet said he not
something of larger craft, more cunningly devised than
these harmless fire-brands ? I misdoubt me that Antwerp
would amuse itself with child’s play such as this. There
will be more to follow.”

“See!” cried Carlos, pointing to a distant spot in the
river beyond the illuminated circle cast by the flaming
skiffs—“ see yonder! Is not there some dark object
floating down upon us, a hundred times larger than these
glow-worms? Yes! I see it plainly. I see it move. It
is coming slowly but steadily down. Can this be one of
the vessels of which Diego spoke, planned with exceeding
skill and cunning by that Italian? No; surely he said
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 371

the Italian would have no more to do with the city when
his demands were refused. Likely enough this is but
some worthless imitation of what he might have carried
out with skill. We have taken the measure of the Dutch
burghers. They have not wit to do us much harm with
their inventions.”

So spoke Carlos, and his words. found a ready echo
amongst those who stood by; and yet the approach of this
great and faintly luminous hulk was watched with such
strained interest that for a moment the silence on both
sides of the river became significantly intense. The little
craft still burning, though not so brightly as before, illu-
mined the strangely picturesque scene. The slow advance
of the great hulk, swaying and lurching along as wind or
tide caught her, could be plainly seen by all. She was
near to the left bank of the river, and was not caught or
detained by the protecting raft, but drifted slowly past it,
although she did not quite reach the bridge, but ran
aground against the dike guarding Kalloo.

“Who will volunteer to board her and extinguish the
fires 2”

Parma’s voice rang out clear and strong in the death-
like silence, and it needed but the knowledge that he was
watching it all to inspire a score of men—an Englishman
at their head—to spring on board the vessel, and com-
mence to scatter the burning brands on deck, and exam-
ine into the nature of her construction. A few moments
before, a faint and muftled explosion had warned the
bystanders that she carried combustibles; but undeterred
372 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

by the thought of personal peril, they commenced diving
into the crater with their spears,—and finding that no
catastrophe followed, broke into peals of derisive laughter,
and made very merry at the ponderous folly of the Ant-
werp citizens.

“Do they think to scare our Prince with fireworks
that would scarce fright a child?” asked one and another
contemptuously, as the hapless Fortwne was soused with
water and shown to be perfectly innocuous. “Is it with
such trifles and such folly that they pass their time in
the city? It is just such another piece of folly as their
Bugaboo—things to scare children withal !”

“Here comes another!” cried a hundred voices, and a
roar of laughter went up from the thousands who stood
watching the curious spectacle.

All fear was now at an end. The soldiers had scen
enough to have conceived an unmitigated contempt for the
efforts their victims were making to secure their freedom.
Even Parma’s grave face relaxed into a smile as he heard
the great shout of laughter, though he was too wise a man
to indulge in ridicule before the issue of the day was
decided. .

At this moment was heard the sound of hurrying feet
along the bridge, and Diego dashed out of the darkness
and threw himself before Parma.

“My Prince, my general!” he implored, in extraor-
dinarily earnest and imploring accents, “I beg of you to
come away. Nay, look not at me so smilingly, nor shake
your head. I implore you, my lord, to come away.”
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 373

“Nonsense, boy! what has come to you? You are not
wont to be scared at trifles.”

“Ah, pardon me, my Prince, pardon my importunity ;
but come! By all that is sacred in heaven and earth, I
implore it of you! O my dear lord, turn not away;
listen to one who—”

“Tush, boy! I love not these heroics. What has come
to you, Don Diego?” questioned Parma hastily ; but as he
spoke he allowed Diego, who had him fast by the mantle,
to lead him off the bridge. Of all things in the world, the
Prince was most intolerant of anything approaching a scene ;
and seeing that Diego was about to fling himself upon his
knees before him, he thought better for the moment to let
him have his way. He would get rid of his importunate
young officer, who appeared to have crossed from his fort
in a skiff for the very purpose of dragging him from the
scene of action, chide him well for his unseemly impetuosity,
and then he would return to see the fate of this other
vessel, which, by the exclamations and cries he heard,
appeared to have floated straight down upon the bridge
itself. He heard the voice of the Marquis Richebourg
giving directions to the men to serve it the same as they
had served the first; and having reached Fort St. Mary,
was just about to turn somewhat sharply upon Diego and
ask an explanation from him of his extraordinary conduct,
when—

Bang!

No words can describe the fearful and overpowering
force of that terrific explosion. One second of blinding
374 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

light, as though the very heavens had been rent, then
the blackness of pitchy darkness, whilst the whole earth
rocked. A thousand human beings were annihilated in a
moment of time; a huge rent in that barrier across the
river was torn through and through. The mighty river
sank with the concussion almost to its depths, and then
rose in a huge wave, sweeping over bridge and dikes, and
washing away hundreds of prostrate human forms, dead
and living alike, to find a watery grave in its foaming
depths. The air was thick with sulphurous vapours, and
a rain of cannon-balls, slabs of stone, ploughshares, and
every deadly missile that can be imagined fell upon land
and water, crushing past recognition hundreds of human
forms. ‘The blockhouse where the Marquis of Richebourg
had been standing with his band of picked men simply
rose in the air and disappeared. The body of the Marquis
was subsequently found in the river; but hundreds of
others were absolutely torn in pieces by the force of the
explosion—mangled trunks, heads, and limbs being after-
wards found leagues away from the scene, together with
slabs of marble and other projectiles that had been hurled
from Gianibelli’s “ hell-burner.”

Well had that vessel deserved its appellation. Judging
from the effect produced by the explosion of one such ship
—and that far smaller than he desired it to be—it 18
fearful to think what might have been the result had his
demand been gratified, and the three large vessels placed at
his command. It seems not impossible that Antwerp itself
might have been laid in ruins; whilst it is hardly possible
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 375

to conceive anything but absolute annihilation for Parma
and his whole army.

The Prince, so wonderfully and providentially taken
from the scene of the most imminent peril just in the nick
of time, fell to the earth as the explosion and concussion
burst upon him, and Diego fell motionless beside him.
Not a man within the radius of a mile kept his feet at
that awful moment. Many not killed or wounded were
lifted up and sent spinning through the air. Some landed
on their feet harmlessly, others were projected into the
river to sink or swim as they could. One officer was
lifted out of a boat on one side of the Scheldt, and set
down in another near the opposite shore. Another was
lifted up and carried straight across the river, being set
down, as it were, upon the opposite bank without having
sustained any real injury. The escapes were as wonderful
as the destruction ; but the number of dead and wounded
and dying was fearful to contemplate. For a period that
seemed like hours to those who moved still about in the
murky atmosphere, scarcely knowing whether they were
alive or had passed into another state of existence, it
Seemed indeed as though all was irretrievably lost; and
when these creeping phantoms met each other in the gloom,
the same question was on all lips,—

“Where is the Prince? has he escaped with life ?”

Thanks to the sudden panie which had assailed Diego
when he saw the “hell-burners”: slowing bearing down
upon the bridge—a panic caused by his remembrance of
what had been spoken in his hearing about Gianibelli’s
376 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

infernal fire-ships—the Prince of Parma was not killed,
as he must inevitably have been had he retained his
position by the blockhouse where Diego had found him.
Carlos also owed his life to the same accident, for he had
followed the Prince, wondering at Diego’s unwonted agita-
tion; and the three lay unconscious, close together, for
some ten or fifteen minutes, none being able to distinguish
them in the murky darkness. Parma’s little page, who
followed his master with some of his weapons, lay dead at
his side, without any visible injury, killed in a moment,
as many others had been, by the concussion of the air.

It was Diego who first recovered consciousness, and
with a strange sense of oppression sat up and looked about
him. It was not quite dark, for the moon was shining in
the sky, and despite the thickness of the atmosphere gave
a faint and feeble light. He saw the Prince stretched
motionless, face downwards, on the ground beside him, and
in an awful fear lest he should be dead, he uttered a loud
cry.

That cry brought several persons about him, and in a
moment every nerve was strained to ascertain whether or
not their great general was seriously hurt. That he was
not dead was testified by the fact that he uttered a sound
like a moan when he was touched; and a surgeon being
quickly found and directed to the spot, means were taken
to restore him to himself.

In a few minutes these means were successful. Parma
had been carried into the little guard-room of the fort
close to the gate, and a lamp gave light enough to show
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 377

that there were no grievous wounds or visible contusions
upon him. The moment that the general’s eyes opened he
sat up alert and vigorous, just drank the potation offered
to him by his anxious servants, and then almost without
a word, and with a strange and tense expression upon
his face, strode out to look at the wreck of his bridge, and
to take counsel with himself how this crushing blow could
be best met.

“Summon every man hither who can yet bear arms!”
was his terse command. “We shall have the Zeeland fleet
upon us in another hour. To the boats every man that
can be spared! Collect every vestige of floating wood and
spar. Bring up everything that can be found to repair the
breach. Let not a moment be lost. We shall have the
enemy upon us with the first streak of day, if they come
not before. They shall not even now find us unprepared.
They have struck one terrible blow at us to-day, but
there is hope yet. Bring every man to the task. Let
them not have time to think of what has been done.
Every thought must be given to repairing the damage.
Not a moment must be lost.”

Thus spoke the great general, undaunted even in such
an awful hour as the present—his labour of months shat-
tered by a single blow, a thousand of his soldiers blown
into the air, hundreds lying dead or dying round and about
him, the rest suffering in greater or less degree from the
fearful panic engendered by the awful sight they had
witnessed. If the citizens of Antwerp had had but one
‘such master-mind within their walls, and if the tide of
378 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

democracy had let the city listen to the voice of one
wise ruler instead of being swayed by the capricious will
of an ignorant and obstinate multitude, how different her
fate might have been! With everything against him,
with hope almost dead, with the prospect of attack both
from above and below, and his army fearfully shattered
and panic-stricken, Alexander Farnese with indomitable
energy set instantly to work to make the most of every
second of time that remained to him before the approach
of the foe. How different was it with the Antwerp
burghers! With everything in their favour, they could
not be induced to move. They had put their trust in an
utterly untrustworthy man, and because he failed them all
was lost. Runaway Jacob had never more richly deserved
his name than on the present occasion. ‘Terrified by the
explosion, and by the awful after effects which were felt
and heard right up to the city walls, the cowardly Admiral
had not even taken the trouble to go himself to see the
result of the earthquake. He had despatched some of his
attendants in a barge, and these worthies, taking their cue
from their leader, had hardly gone any distance off, but
after rowing about for a while in the murky blackness,
afraid for their lives to approach any nearer to the bridge
in case another explosion should take place, had returned
to their master with the report that the bridge remained
intact, and that the attempt had been an utter failure.
Thus was Antwerp defrauded of her victory, whilst the
Zeeland fleet below waited in vain for the preconcerted
signal, and finally sailed away disappointed and discouraged.
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 379

The April dawn rose chill and drear over a strange
scene of desolation. A great rent two hundred feet wide
yawned in the redoubtable bridge. It had been cleft
through and through by the terrific force of the explosion.
The protecting rafts were greatly injured and displaced.
A glance showed that a fleet from above or below could
sweep fearlessly through the breach; and Parma scanned
the waves with anxious eyes, every moment expecting to
see the sails of the approaching squadron that was, as he
well knew, lying in readiness by Lillo. But look as he
would he saw no sign of the fleet; and with a cheerful
aspect, though in reality almost in despair (for he felt cer-
tain that every hour would bring the enemy upon him), he
set about encouraging his weary and stricken troops to re-
pair the breach and make ready against the coming attack.

It was a ghastly spectacle indeed upon which the morning
sun rose. The bridge and the river-banks were strewn with
mangled corpses. The men at their work in the river,
collecting spars and fragments of all kinds, and striving to
make a temporary barrier across the breach till more sub-
stantial work could be accomplished, kept dragging to light
ghastly human remains, the bare sight of which was
enough to arouse a shudder of horror. But the spirit of
the general infused itself into his men; and since he would
not sit down in despair to wait for what all believed now
to be inevitable—namely, the speedy demolition of the
bridge—they were ready and willing to imitate him, and
the rapidity with which the work of repair was carried on
was marvellous. ‘
380 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

When this was really set on foot in a workmanlike
manner, the general was able to patrol from rank to rank
and station to station, encouraging and praising his men,
seeing that the wounded were cared for as well as circum-
stances would allow, and eagerly greeting from time to
time the various officers he had hardly dared hope to see
again, as these met him upon his rounds.

Rodrigo’s escape had been very narrow. He had been
whirled into the air, till, as he expressed it, he felt in his
bewilderment as though he had been changed into a cannon-
ball; and the sense of fear or even of surprise vanished
as utterly as though he had been dreaming the incident,
not experiencing it in the flesh. After being thus propelled
for a considerable distance by the concussion in the air, he
had suddenly been dropped from a great height, and fully
expected to meet his death as soon as he touched the
ground. Fortunately for him, however, he fell clear into
the river, and as there was a boat near at hand he succeeded
in saving himself with no great difficulty. He had been
burned and singed about the head and shoulders, but was
not otherwise injured. Carlos had escaped with only a
few contusions, and Diego had not been seriously hurt,
though almost every man within the camp had been shaken
or bruised in some way, even if not actually wounded.
Some were made deaf, others blinded by the shock; and
though most of these recovered in time, there were others
who were permanently disabled from active service through
the loss of some faculty. .

And then there was always the haunting fear in the
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 381

minds of all that another of these “ hell-burners” might be
sent down upon them from the city. Inexplicable as it
was to the Spaniards that they had not been attacked by
a great force at the moment of their greatest helplessness,
they speedily found they were not to be left altogether
in peace. A swarm of little vessels was now continually
pestering them and hindering their work. The soldiers
went in terror of their lives lest each night should bring
arvepetition of the fearful tragedy which had swept off a
thousand men in a moment of time. Crippled in numbers,
and forced to a perpetual watchfulness, the exhausted sol-
diers had scarcely time to eat or sleep. A new patrol had
to be organized in case of any further attack from fire-
ships, and night and day men in barges, armed with hooks
and seythes, were kept rowing up and down to protect the
raft and bridge from the assault of any such deadly foes.
“T marvel they do not send us another such infernal
messenger,” said Parma one day, as he sat for a brief
moment of leisure with his officers about him. “Had they
followed up that first ‘hell-burner’ with another like it,
my work could not have stood. They are an inexplicable
people—full of courage, obstinacy, tenacity, and rebellion ;
a people who will do and dare anything, and accom-
plish much by the aid of an ingenuity that is more than
human; and yet when they have won some great ad-
vantage, they throw it away as a child a broken toy,
It must be that the holy saints are watching over us to
protect us. Our Lady in Heaven has us beneath her
special protection, and rends the fruit of their toil from
382 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

the greedy maw of these heretics ere they have tasted the
sweets of it.”

“T truly believe that this is so,” answered Rodrigo
piously ; and in his heart he added earnestly, “ Would that
Alphonso may see it likewise in such light! He is not a
scoffer, nor thoughtless, like some. Sure he must see that
the very heavens are fighting against yon heretic crew, and
his folly will die a natural death. He cannot believe that
were Heaven with these people all their endeavours would
be thus brought to naught.”

The Spaniards perhaps forgot that by the same method
of reckoning Heaven’s favours they might themselves have
reason to doubt the righteousness of their cause. A terrible
blow had been struck against them, even though all that
might have been had not been accomplished. They had
lost some of their best and bravest officers—men whom it
was impossible to replace, and whose death was a source of
unmixed sorrow to Parma, who knew not where to turn
for others. They were in sore straits themselves, without
money, sometimes almost without food, and apparently
forgotten by their autocratic master in Spain. They had
been for a generation striving to subdue this little terri-
tory, which seemed as though it could not hold out against
the mighty power of Spain for a single year; and although
some parts of the country had submitted, the struggle .
was being gallantly maintained by the bolder states of
Holland and Zeeland, and these rebellious provinces were
flourishing in exact proportion as the reconciled ones lan-
guished and grew poor and helpless. But this was a
A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 383

view of the case which the Spaniards of that day would
not and perhaps could not take. They were ready enough
to attribute their own successes to the intervention of a
favouring Heaven, but their misfortunes were never re-
garded as being a sign of the withdrawal of divine
favour.

In that, perhaps, they differed not so much from fanatics
of every age; but it is not well to speak mockingly of
their trust in Providence, even though somewhat childishly
displayed. It was real devotion that inspired many of
them with a courage as high as any their foes could show ;
and the same devotion and courage were exhibited in large
measure upon the side of the rebels, who were equally sure
that the God of Heaven was fighting on their side, even
though man and the devil were allowed for a time to tempt
and try them.

It has always been the way, ever since religious wars
have been in the earth, and will be to the end. And no
man in those days could clearly see that whilst the Church
was at war with itself, and brethren baptized into the One
Name were flying at each other’s throats, no one cause
could be said to be altogether pure or holy, or looked upon
by the God of peace with entire favour. Truly He fights
on the side of right; but He works no miracles in favour
of His blind and erring children, even though they be
seeking for liberty and light. He holds the balances with
a justice and impartiality that is almost terrible to man,
and only little by little, slowly and painfully, is the end
worked out.
384 A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

The struggle between tyranny and liberty, light and
darkness, truth and falsehood, was being slowly worked
out in the history of the Netherlands—slowly and pain-
fully, with many a dark episode to blot the page that
should have been bright, with many errors to stain a cause
that professed so much that was noble and good. The
same battle is going ceaselessly on in the world around us,
with the same anomalies, confusion, and bitterness. The
end is coming upon us in God’s time; and what will that
end be?
CHAPTER XIX.
LOVE IN WAR.

“TT did not fail—I know it did not fail!” Such was
] the constant ery of the Italian mechanician during
the days which followed that night of tense excitement
in which his “hell-burners” had been sent forth against
Parma’s great bridge—which attempt had been declared
throughout the city to have ended in utter failure.

The people of Antwerp were angry and bitterly dis-
appointed, and were disposed to mob the old man every
time he appeared in the streets, shouting opprobrious words
at him and ridiculing those promises of his which they
believed to have been nothing but idle boastings.

Gianibelli’s rage and fury knew no bounds; and in his
heart of hearts the Burgomaster shared his belief that some
new gigantic blunder had been made by the thick-skulled
Admiral to whom had been intrusted so important a share
in the night’s proceedings. He had personally interviewed
Jacobzoon, and had spoken both to him and the men who
accompanied him. As was natural under the circumstances,
they had got a well-planned and circumstantial tale to tell,

—a tale that satisfied the city authorities and raised no
(444) 25
386 LOVE IN WAR.

suspicions in their minds; but it was far from satisfying
Sainte Aldegonde. He detected false notes here and there;
he observed a certain hesitancy on the part of the men
when bidden to describe their approach to the bridge and
the appearance it presented. He had so strong a suspicion
that they had not really ascertained the true state of affairs
that he would, had he been the only person to decide the
matter, have organized upon the following day a strong and
resolute attack upon the bridge and upon Parma’s camp at
Kalloo, trusting to the Zeelanders to hear the sound of
fighting and to come to their aid. But, alas! the Burgo-
master had no power to act with independence. All such
matters had to go before the Board of Schepens, and they
would not hear of such a thing. They had had enough
of failure for one week, they said, and to attempt to at-
tack a bridge which had withstood the terrific explosion of
that gigantic fire-ship would be nothing short of madness.
Not one of the Magistrates would listen; they were as full
of contempt for the Italian and his high-sounding words
as he was for their dull wits and capacity for blundering.

“T know my work was no failure,” he asserted, with
passionate emphasis, as his rage was kept at boiling-point
by the jeers of the ignorant citizens whenever he ap-
peared in the streets. “I know it did not fail. It could
not. Would to Heaven I could go thither and learn the
truth for myself! Did I not say that that fool of an
Admiral would ruin all? and have not my words been
abundantly verified ?”

Upon the evening of the third day, when Malcolm
LOVE IN WAR. 387

was supping with the Italian and his daughter, the youth
looked suddenly up to say,—

“Sir, if you will give me the hand of your daughter in
marriage on my return, I will to-night swim once more
down upon the bridge and discover all you wish to know.
I will bring you word again what your fire-ships accom-
plished. But if I do this thing a second time, there must
be no dallying about the reward. Veronica must be mine.
I shall have won her by a right too strong to be disputed.
Tell me that you will do this for me, and I will forth at
once upon my task.”

A sudden fire leaped into Gianibelli’s eyes. He held
out his skinny hand across the table and grasped that of
the young man.

“Bring me back word that the bridge is rent in twain,
and I give you my daughter's hand in marriage so soon as
you will—Veronica, you hear my promise! I never yet
took back my word. If he brings me glad tidings, if he
can show that my work was no failure, I give him thy
hand as his reward. Dost understand, child? There must
be no drawing back on thy part. Thy father’s word is
pledged. Mine honour is at stake. I have pledged my
whole reputation upon the success of my ‘hell-burners.’—
Bring me word that they have done their work, and I
give thee my daughter’s hand in wedlock.”

This was just such an act of melodramatic autocracy as
was dear to the heart of the Italian. In his own house he
was a veritable tyrant, and he regarded his daughter very
much as an Oriental regarded his—as a chattel of which
388 LOVE IN WAR.

he could dispose at will. He loved Veronica as much as
it was in him to love anything human; but that did not
interfere with his theory that women were little better
than slaves in the hands of the men whom they owned as
husband or father. Perhaps the fact that Veronica and
Malcolm were sincerely attached to each other weighed
unconsciously with him as he spoke; but to hear him
speak one would have supposed that he regarded nothing
but the satisfaction of his own curiosity, and that his
daughter’s feelings were of no account.

When he had finished speaking he rose suddenly from
the table and retired precipitately into his own little den,
where most of his time was spent brooding over the folly
of mankind in general and of Antwerp in particular; and
the young people thus left together looked quickly into
each other’s eyes, whilst Veronica stretched out her hand
and laid it on his arm, saying imploringly,—

“OQ Malcolm, do not adventure yourself thus another
time |”

“Nay, but why not? I came back safe and sound the
last time; and at this season the chill will be far less.
And I know my way better now. I—”

“Thou wilt fall a second time into the hands of the foe,
and this time thou mayest not escape!” cried Veronica in
distress. “Nay, Malcolm, I cannot bear that thou shouldest
thus endanger thyself again for the sake of my father.
The first time there was some good end for thine own
city to be achieved. It was an act of patriotism to go
then; but here is no such motive. What good will it
LOVE IN WAR. 389

be to the people to hear the news, even if my father is
right, and if the bridge was broken? The Prince of Parma
never rests nor sleeps. By this time he will have fortified
it and made all sure once more. Thou wilt risk thy life,
and for no good.”

“Nay, but it will be for good if this prove to have been
as we think!” answered Malcolm with flashing eyes. “It
will teach our obstinate burghers that they do but let
themselves be tricked and fooled by the men they intrust
with their most important offices. It will teach them
that they would do well to trust their noble Burgomaster,
whose voice is always raised on the side of wisdom, albeit
they will not listen to him when he takes their contrary
part. Oh, it would give me a keen joy to return with the
news that yon great bridge was cleft in twain! Methinks
it would rouse all Antwerp to a passion of fury and
patriotic zeal. Once let the city awake, once let her
throw off her apathy and her timidity, and I believe we
could yet win our freedom. If it prove to have been as
thy father and as some of us suspect—if those mighty
floating voleanoes did really do their appointed work, and
Antwerp lost all through the coward faithlessness of one
man—why, then methinks the city will arise as a giant in
his wrath, and will show the world what she can yet do.
Were it for that alone, I would go, Veronica; but I have
another motive goading me on. Sweetheart, thou didst
hear his words ; methinks they were too solemnly spoken
to be taken back. Thou art now my betrothed bride.
When I return with good news, wilt thou be ready to wed
390 LOVE IN WAR.

with me, and to come with me some day to England,
whither we seriously purpose to go so soon as this long
siege be finished ?”

She looked up with a question in her eyes.

“To England, Malcolm ? is that decided ?”

“J think truly that it is; at least I verily believe
that we Wilfords shall all go thither, as indeed we have
often planned to do, since our trade with that land is so
much increased. I know not so well if the Van der
Hammers will accompany us; they talk rather of settling
at Delft or at the Hague. Holland is like to become the
most prosperous of all these provinces; for her resolve to
hold out against the tyranny of Spain is deeper rooted
than in these lands here, which have already half submitted
themselves again. It comes to this, Veronica: we have al-
most ceased to hope that this city will be able to withstand
the conquering arm of Parma. From time to time hope
revives; but then, again, comes some disaster which robs
us of our confidence once more, and the best thing to hope
appears to be that we may win easy terms of capitulation
from our foe. We know what these terms are like to be.
Those who will not put their necks beneath the yoke of
the Papacy must flee the country within two years. That
then will be our fate. It is better, as Lionel has long fore-
seen, to face this possibility first as last, and for some time
we have been working with a view to returning to En-
gland in a family when the crisis comes. Harold is there
already, making a home to which we can all go in the first
place whilst matters are being arranged. Our father is
LOVE IN WAR. 391

also there, with his good business head, and I doubt not
much has by this time been done. We can carry on our
business as well there as here; and I trow we shall quickly
learn to love a land which we have always spoken of as
home, because our parents have called it so. Veronica,
canst thou face the thought of going thither with us?
Will England be a home to thee if thy husband takes
thee there ?”

She looked at him with a soft light in her dark eyes,
and answered softly,—

“Any place would be home to me if thou wert there,
Malcolm.”

He had thought she would speak of her father and the
difficulty she might have in leaving him, but no such
words passed her lips; and as she met the questioning
glance of his eye, she answered the unspoken thought,—

“Methinks he will not want me soon. He has ever
some new restless plan in his head; and now he is bent
on travelling in the East so soon as he can get free from
this beleaguered city, to pick up stores of new lore there.
He has spoken many times of placing me within. some
convent, to be out of his way. Methinks he would be
well pleased now were I to take the veil.”

“Thou canst do better than that, Veronica!” cried
Malcolm ardently; “thou canst take a husband instead.
Sweetheart, I was inclined to marvel at the readiness with
which he promised thy hand, when two months back he
was so loath to listen to my pleadings.”

“He had not then bethought him of this new project
392 LOVE IN WAR.

which now is filling his head. And then I truly think he
would sooner shut me in a nunnery than give my hand
in wedlock. He is not a lover of the Church, as some
men are, but he thinks the cloister life a safe one for
women. It may be he is right; yet I have never loved
the thought. Ah, Malcolm, how happy might we be in
England—in that free country—together! It is like
some beautiful dream—too bright ever to become true.
But, oh, that swim! My love, I know not how to let
you go. Suppose you fell once again into the enemy’s
hand ?”

“ Well, I have been before into the den of the lion, and
have come forth unscathed; why should not I do so
again ?”

“Ah, but none can foresee the issues of such matters!
Perchance they will be deeply angered by the work of
the fire-ships. Perchance thou mightest fall into the
hands of rough soldiers, who would run thee through
with their swords before thou couldst speak a word, bad
or good. Oh, I fear to let thee go—lI fear it! Malcolm,
it is too sore a peril to run for so small an object. In
time we must learn whether or no my father was right.
Why not wait till then ?”

But Malcolm was not thus to be dissuaded. He was
almost as keenly interested in the issue of that night’s
work as Gianibelli himself, and he was too naturally fear-
less to let the thought of personal risk deter him. He
had a shrewd suspicion that whatever had happened to
the bridge itself, the Spanish camp must have had a tre-
LOVE IN WAR. 393

mendous shock, and for a brief while, at least, would be
somewhat disorganized, if not demoralized. He had good
hopes of being able this time to accomplish both journeys
in safety. The tide would again serve him both ways ;
and he intended to tell no living soul of his attempt,
save only the Italian and his daughter, to whom the offer
had been made.

He contented himself with sending a message home
that he should not be sleeping there that night; and as
there was nothing very remarkable in this, it excited no
anxiety and little remark.

In the house in Hooch Straet there was much grave
discussion going on just now with reference to the future.
Lionel had heard, after very long delay, from his father
and brother in England—the letter having gone to friends
in Holland first, and having gradually made its way from
hand to hand till it reached Joris when he had been on
one of his rapid and perilous journeys through the Spanish
lines. This letter gave very good news of the absent ones.
They had established themselves in a roomy and comfort-
able house not far from the important seaport town of
Harwich. They seemed already to be feeling very much
at home. They had been hospitably and kindly received
by the people of England, and there was every hope that
a flourishing mercantile business might be established
there. The letter spoke in warm terms of the religious
liberty allowed to subjects in that realm, although there
was still a certain amount of persecution of Anabaptists
and certain obscure sectarian heretics whom it was difficult
394 LOVE IN WAR.

to classify. But there was no such espionage or intoler-
ance there as the people of the Netherlands had revolted
from in such loathing and disgust; and although the En-
glish Queen had not as yet made up her mind to engage
in open warfare with the most powerful monarch in the
world, by taking up the cause of the Provinces, yet the
feeling of the nation was one of great sympathy with the
revolted people, and refugees were most kindly and _hos-
pitably received. To the beleaguered family in Antwerp
these accounts of English life were strangely fascinating.
Already the idea of returning to what he always called
his native land had strongly possessed Lionel. There was
an opening there for a great trade. For some years the
family had been contemplating some such step, and mak-
ing preparation accordingly. Now the plan had taken a
definite shape, and was talked of openly. The only point
yet uncertain was whether or not the Van der Hammers
would accompany their partners to England, or would mi-
grate to Holland and take up their residence there.

Alphonso naturally heard much of this discussion, and
gradually it dawned upon him that the heavy-heartedness
which he was conscious had lately grown upon him was
due in a great measure to the thought that when this
family finally quitted the Netherlands he would never see
any of them again.

And why should that thought trouble him? He asked
that question of himself with stern impatience, but was.
half afraid to look into his own heart for the answer.
Since the departure of Diego, some two months back, Al-
LOVE IN WAR. 395

phonso had had no one to watch his actions in a critical
spirit, or to remind him of the perils and pitfalls into
which he might be falling.

The young soldier, debarred from the profession of
arms, and obliged by the state of his health to live a very
quiet life, had not unnaturally taken to reading as a pas-
time; and the books which he found in the house of the
Antwerp merchant were of a kind very different from ~
anything he had ever read before. At first he had been
half afraid to open the ponderous Bible that lay upon the
table, or even to touch any of those controversial pam-
phlets and works which had begun to foment the’ dis-
pute between priest and people, and to set the religious
world in a blaze. But curiosity had got the better of
seruple at last, and Alphonso had read eagerly everything
the house contained, often taking up the cudgels on behalf
of his own party in the Church, and arguing many a
knotty point with Lionel or his father-in-law.

The not unnatural result of all this had been an im-
mense widening of the mental and spiritual horizon of the
young man. Whilst still revering and holding sacred a
very great deal that he had been taught by his own
spiritual advisers, he had come to the unalterable conclu-
sion that they did not hold the faith in all purity, and
that they did not teach the whole truth to their followers.
Whether or no the reformed party might not fall into a
like error on the other side he did not at that moment
care to consider. He had no intention of formally joining
them, and even the thought of such a thing would have
396 LOVE IN WAR.

filled him with horror still. But he began to understand
their outlook—to see that they had a fund of argument
upon their own side which it was not easy to meet on all
points; and he also discovered, greatly to his surprise,
that with the more truly enlightened and liberal of these
heretics there was an immense area of religious belief com-
mon alike to them and to the Romanist party. Sometimes
it seemed to him, in talking with Lionel or with Maud—
and it was with these two that he spoke most readily and
with most pleasure—that if he avoided the doctrine of
the divinity (as it practically came to) of the Virgin Mary
and the universal sovereignty of the Pope, with its many
dependent notions, he could talk with the most perfect
accord over almost all other doctrinal points. He did not
realize how he had gradually come to see matters from a
different standpoint; he fancied he had always held the
wider view he now did. He began to marvel at the bitter-
ness with which the heretics were regarded, and it was
only when he was gravely and almost sternly rebuked by
the priest, to whom he confessed from time to time, for
some words which seemed to him most harmless and
orthodox, that he realized how far he had wandered from
the beaten track, and how far he was from the ordinary
standpoint of those amongst whom his lot in life was like
to be passed.

The father had no wish to be hard on the youth, and
made allowance for his position in a heretic houschold,
but he warned him very gravely that a repetition of such
words as he had then spoken would doom him to the cells
LOVE IN WAR. 397

of the Inquisition, were they spoken in Spain; and since
it began to appear patent to Alphonso that a soldier's life
could never again be his, and that upon his release a return
to his own country would be the only thing possible for
him, it was natural that he should listen to this warning
with a thrill of horror. Yas he, after all, next door to a
heretic ? and if so, what use to return to a country where
heresy was expiated at the stake, and suspicion sent the
suspected person to the rack ?

These questions had been before the young man’s mind
for some while already, and he had not found the answer
yet. What should he do when the end of the siege left
him free to go about his own business? Would he hail
his liberty with rejoicing? He felt in his heart that he
should not. Why this was so he had scarcely dared to
ask himself; but the answer could not long be hidden
from him.

The definite plan of action now settled upon by the
Wilford family, as soon as the siege should have terminated
either one way or the other, acted as a cheering elixir
upon them. They seemed now to have something to look
forward to and to hope for, and an air of bustle and
preparation already pervaded the house. Even that was
a relief from the monotony of those dreary winter days ;
and as the sun gained more power, and the severity of the
winter’s cold yielded to the milder influences of spring, the
family began to resort once more to the long living-room
upstairs ; and it was there that Alphonso found Maud upon
the evening when Malcolm was about to make his second
398 LOVE IN WAR.

expedition to the bridge, sorting piles of household linen,
the product of their busy wheels, and planning how best
it could be stowed in some great cases which stood open
upon the floor.

“ Why, fair Mistress,” said the young man with a smile,
“one would think that the siege was at an end, and that
already you were about to sally forth to seek a new
country.”

Maud smiled a little as she replied brightly,—

“It is Roosje’s wish that we get forward with our pre-
parations, since our minds are now made up. It gives
occupation alike to the brain and the fingers; and in these
days of uncertainty, hope, and fear, it is well to be ready
for anything that may come. Why, it was but a week
ago that we hoped to have been free ere this; and some
day, perchance, this hope may suddenly become a, reality.
There is a great stirring all through the city; and now
that the Zeeland fleet, with its loads of provisions, lies so
close to our walls, I cannot but think some further effort
will be made ere we let them sail away again. If once
our gates stood open, and we could come and go at will, I
know we should long to be off at once, and should be
glad that all our goods and chattels stood ready packed,
and could quickly be put on board one of our own vessels
to be carried to England.”

“ And you are glad to think of going thither, Mistress
Maud 2”

“Yes, I am very glad. Since our mother died, and
since so many have gone, this house is but a sad place for
LOVE IN WAR. 399

the rest; and though I have loved this city where I was
born, we have suffered so much during this cruel war that
I shall say adieu with joy to its towers and spires, and to
the country likewise. So long as we all go together—
that is what I care for. And I think we shall not part
company at the first, whatever afterwards happens. Me-
thinks the Vader will at least visit England and see our
father again, even though he may return to Holland to settle.
One cannot but look forward with rejoicing to the day
when we may all sail away from this unhappy and down-
trodden land to one where peace and liberty may be
found. Ah, Sefior, your King has much to answer for;
and, perchance, when he has wrought his will and deso-
lated and devastated: to his wicked heart’s content, he will
look back and see the ruin he has caused, and his heart
will reproach him for the measureless misery he has in-
flicted upon hundreds and thousands of hapless human
beings, whose only crime has been that they love God, and
would worship him in spirit and in truth.”

Alphonso’s face was very grave. Six months ago he
would have stood up to defend the monarch he served,
and have shown that the fault lay with the rebels; but
to-night he could not think of this, nor even try to point
out that there was at least another side to the picture.
He could not, in fact, take his mind from the personal
aspect of affairs in the future, and he asked in a very low
voice,—

“And when you go forth from this city, what will be-
come of me? Will you take me with you?”
400 LOVE IN WAR.

She gave him a quick glance of surprise, and her colour
rose slightly as she met the glance bent upon her.

“Oh no, Sefior ; you will no longer be a prisoner then.
You will be free to go whither you will. If your Prince
forces us to capitulate, of course you will be freed as a
matter of treaty ; and if not—if we force him to raise the
siege—I am certain that my brother will give you your
liberty before we go hence. You are not an enemy to
us now, you know. And so soon as he is free of this
city he will be free to send you whither he will and you
desire.”

Alphonso made one step nearer; his heart was beating
strangely.

“And suppose I do not desire my liberty—suppose I
have no wish for my freedom—what then ?”

She looked up in perplexity,

“T scarce understand your meaning, Sefior. Every man
desires liberty.”

“That depends, sweet lady. There are some bonds that
be so sweet one fears to break them ;” and then seeing the
burning blush that dyed her face, and noting how close he
was coming to the declaration that he had not yet made
up his mind to make, he added quickly, “And of what
avail would my liberty be to me, think you? Whither
could I go, since I am too poor a creature, as all these
wise physicians tell me, to wield a sword or manage a
charger again for many a long day ?”

“Sure you would have a welcome in your own country,
Sefior ?” she answered, with her eyes on the ground. It
LOVE IN WAR. 4ot

was growing too dusk for any further work; but the
twilight seemed favourable for confidential talk.

“T know not that,’ he answered; “I have no kith nor
kin save my brother, and he will never leave the army
whilst there is any fighting to be done. And he may not
even be living now, so many are the chances of war. And
then my priest has warned me that in mine own country
I shall rank as a heretic, or at least as a suspect. Mistress
Maud, would you have me go back to the embraces of the
Holy Office ?”

The colour ebbed away from her face as she looked at
him with a great fear and horror in her eyes.

“O Sefior, no!” she cried, “oh no, no, no! But what
mean you? You are no heretic! What could they say
against you ?”

“Enough to send me to the stake, lady, inasmuch as I
have read the Seriptures in the vulgar tongue, and have
discoursed points of doctrine with those whom our priests
call heretics. I too have spoken words that would con-
demn me as a heretic myself. In Spain my life and liberty
would not be safe for an hour.”

“O Sefior, then go not thither!” pleaded Maud with
sudden earnestness. “ Why should you thus imperil your-
self? Do not, do not go thither. Is there no other place
where thou couldst flee for shelter ?”

“Verily there is England, that land of refuge from
tyranny and oppression. Methinks in days to come men
will see that she was a wondrous country in these dark

and stormy days. From what I hear of her Queen and
(444) 26
402 LOVE IN WAR.

her Church, I should find safety and shelter there—the
established faith of the land being something betwixt the
old Papacy which men have grown weary of and these
new opinions which are something too strong for us all.
By what I have heard of late, England would be my safest
refuge ; but it is sad work going alone to a strange land,
without a friend in the world to give one a welcome or a
blessing.”

Maud’s head was bent over her piles of snowy linen ; her
words were softly and shyly spoken. ,

“Could you not come with us, Sefior? Methinks my
brother would give you a safe passage in the vessel which
will carry us. Once there, surely you would not be long in
finding friends. There must be noble countrymen of yours
at the Court of the Queen. And they say that she is very
gracious to any noble youth who comes thither and asks
to serve her.”

“So I have heard. I might do worse than proffer my
poor services. I would sooner draw my sword for a brave
Queen such as she has ever been, than for the monarch I
have tried so long to reverence and respect. But art sure
I should be welcome to go thither in your company? Are
you not weary of the presence of the stranger amongst
you?”

“Nay, Sefior; have we shown ourselves weary? Nor
are you now a stranger to us; and if your sojourn here
has led you to those opinions which in your land would be
branded as heresy, methinks the least that we can do is to
strive to take you safely away from the reach of the arm
LOVE IN WAR. 403

of the terrible Inquisition. In England, God be thanked,
there is no such terrible institution. But here your king
has vowed to establish it, though he kill every living soul
on this soil first.”

Maud felt safer when giving the conversation a general
rather than a personal tone, for she was almost as much
afraid of hearing Alphonso break into any open declaration
of love as he was of being betrayed into such a declara-
tion. ach secretly knew by this time that a great love
had grown up betwixt them during these past months;
but each was afraid of any overt act which should break
the sweetness of the silent harmony which was such happi-
ness to both. Maud felt almost certain that her family
would strenuously oppose any union with a Spaniard, a
Romanist, and a man of birth so much higher than her
own, even if he were to ask her hand in marriage ; and he
on his part was altogether uncertain whether his position
entitled him to think of marrying, and whether he should
ever be able to make this girl happy as his wife.

A struggle there had been with his pride at the outset,
when he found himself losing his heart to one who was
after all but a burgher maiden, although he had gathered
that the Wilfords sprang from a good old English stock,
and were more highly born than their friends the Van der
Hammers. But this had long since given way before the
conviction that Maud herself was worthy in every way of
his love, and that she was the only woman in the world to
whom his heart could ever be given.

But there were other obstacles in the way. At present
404 LOVE IN WAR.

he was a prisoner—that alone was bar enough to any
declaration of love—and he did not know whether he
should ever be a sound man again, or whether this obscure
injury from which he still suffered much might not bring
about his death in some sudden and unexplained way, as
was so often the case with internal injuries in days when
medical science was in its infancy. Then there was the
religious difficulty. He was not yet prepared to own him-
self a member of any church save that of Rome; and
although he had taken the first step along a road which so
often led to rank heresy, he was by no means in his own
opinion a heretic yet. Although he and Maud could talk
for long hours upon religious themes and find themselves
in accord, he was uncertain that there might not be depths
beyond where some chasm might open between them. He
realized his own nature and hers well enough to be aware
that there could be little happiness for them in the future
if they married and then found themselves at variance.
The sacrifice of his own pride he was willing to make,
but he would not sacrifice her happiness; all the chivalry
of his nature revolted against such an idea. The more
he grew to love her, the more he felt the difficulties that
might lie before them. To take her to Spain was simply
out of the question—that he had faced long ago, and ib
had then seemed to put the matter beyond all power of
adjustment; but since he realized that Spain was scarcely
now a safer place for him than it would be for her, a
new element had come into the question. If they both
went to England, and he succeeded in selling his share
LOVE IN WAR. 405

of the old family estate and getting the money transferred
to England, what then? The idea had only recently
suggested itself, and this was the first word he had spoken
to anybody on the subject. He was afraid to pursue the
thought in his own heart—afraid lest some rash word
should escape him which might shatter for ever the tran-
quillity which still existed between them. That this
tranquillity and reticence must some day be broken he was
well aware, but he did not wish that day to come yet.
She was as nervously anxious as he could be to preserve
the silence betwixt them and live on still in her dream.
It was such happiness to think that he might accompany
them to England, that she wished to hear nothing more
then. She could not but guess at the feelings which were
exercising him, but she would not for worlds that they
should be spoken; it was far, far sweeter to let them
remain an open secret between them. So it was a relief
to them both to hear Roosje calling them down to sup-
per. Maud fled away with burning cheeks, and spoke no
word to Alphonso again that night.
CHAPTER XX.
ANTWERP AROUSED.

LL the city was in a tumult. Crowds were hasten-
A ing to the open spaces in the city. Rage, excite-
ment, and fury were in every face. Violent words and
oaths escaped from every mouth. And rising above the
tumult, rising in a great ceaseless roar, the name of the
Admiral Jacobzoon—the opprobrious title “Koppen Lop-
pen”—was shouted in every accent of rage, contempt,
and derision. One great mob was directing itself towards
the house in which that worthy was known to have taken
up his abode, and in a few moments not a whole window
remained in that house; and the terrified inhabitants had
been obliged to flee from it by the back way, fearful lest
the angry mob should break in and murder them then
and there.

The Burgomaster himself had had to come with some
troopers to disperse the crowd, and in their fury the mob
had almost turned upon him. For a few moments he had
really been in danger; but Lionel had hastily summoned
together those of his militia who seemed amenable to disci-
pline, had dashed in at the head of this handful of men, and
ANTWERP AROUSED. 407

rescued the Burgomaster from their clutches. There was
no sense in the madness which had led the mob to turn
upon Sainte Aldegonde ; but an angry crowd is the cruellest
as well as the most senseless force in creation. A grievous
wrong had been inflicted upon the city, and public feeling
required a victim. If the real culprit could not be found,
some other great man must serve instead. It mattered
not that if the city had done as the Burgomaster sug-
gested, all might even then have been well, despite the
cowardice of the cowardly Admiral. It mattered not that
it was the people themselves who had given the power to
the Admiral, and had refused to listen to the arguments
used against his fitness for the task. They might be the
blunderers, but their Burgomaster was a fair victim. He
was called their ruler, and was held responsible for disaster,
although he had scarce any power to prevent it. Thus it
is always where the voice of the people prevails. Unfit to
govern themselves, they will hear no advice from those
who are fit, and when disaster falls, are the first to blame,
not themselves—no, never themselves—but those who
would have advised them for their good had. they but
listened. It has been so a thousand times before, and will
be so to the end of the world. The story of the siege of
Antwerp forms only a characteristic page of the history of
democracy.

For now the whole truth was known. Malcolm’s jour-
ney this time had been crowned with success. He had
gone and returned in safety. He had swum all about the
bridge, dived beneath it, seen exactly the extent of the
408 ANTWERP AROUSED.

damage inflicted, and had returned with the report that a
huge breach had been made right through the great barrier,
and that had the fleets from Zeeland and Antwerp only |
combined that night, as they would have done had the
signal been given, the whole structure might have been
swept away, and Antwerp rejoicing in her freedom.

The howl of rage and execration which arose from the
whole city as this piece of news was made known may
better be imagined than described. A hot and indignant
message had come in from Count Hohenlo, who had also
sent a swimmer from Fort Lillo to ascertain the real state
of the case, and had made a like discovery. He bitterly
upbraided the folly of the city in intrusting such an all-
important task to a man who had before betrayed such
lamentable cowardice. He boldly declared that the
Admiral deserved nothing but hanging; and the Burgo-
master was secretly of the same opinion. However, it was
not exactly his business to execute summary justice upon
the offender. He had other matters to think of then; for
the supply question was becoming very difficult in the city
by this time, and unless relief came shortly it seemed as
though nothing but starvation lay before them.

His first visit was to Gianibelli.

The Italian sat, as was his wont, in his dark den, and in
his dark cavernous eyes a great light was shining. As the
Burgomaster entered he raised a thin brown hand and
pointed it full at him.

“Ha, ha, Master Burgomaster! has the news reached
you? What said Gianibelli to you when there was yet

!
ANTWERP AROUSED. 409

time ? That that fool, that thrice-accursed fool, would ruin
everything, had he the chance! And has he not done so?
What did I say again as we stood upon the Sconce that
night, saw the sky cleft in twain by a sheet of flame,
and heard the roar which shook the very earth to her
foundations—what did I say then? Did I not say that
the work had been done; that all was well; that Antwerp
had but to signal the Zeeland fleet and sail triumphantly
to meet it and demolish the bridge? Who was right—the
despised Italian wizard, or the all-wise Antwerp burghers ?
Fools, fools—a city of fools! What come you to me for
now, Master Burgomaster ?”

“T come to say this: Make but such another hell-burner
as you made before; the materials shall be at your service
this very day, and the whole city shall be your servants
to carry on the work with the utmost despatch. Make
but one other such vessel, and we will hurl into the air
the remainder of Parma’s bridge and of his army; the
name of Gianibelli shall go down to posterity as—”

But the old man sprang to his feet with flashing eyes
and gestures of withering scorn.

“Think you I will raise a finger for Antwerp again ?”
he almost yelled. “Think you that I have not had
enough of your blundering, your blind folly, your obsti-
nate, senseless ridicule? My work has been done. My
name will live as that of the man who could wreck the
great bridge of the great Alexander. Think you I will
raise another finger for your blind, blundering burghers,
who will ruin everything—everything—everything with
410 ANTWERP AROUSED.

their inconceivable folly? I will not. I say I will not!
Let Antwerp make her own fire-ships; let her take her
own course! I will do nothing for her more—nothing,
nothing! Let her meet the doom she has brought upon
herself! Richly she merits it. Let her reap even as she
has sown!”

It was useless to try to move the angry old man. He
would not listen to argument or supplication. Nor could
the Burgomaster greatly wonder at this. Had he not
been hampered in all his dealings at the outset, treated
with parsimony and ridicule by the whole city, and hooted
in the streets as he went by for a man who promised but
could not perform? Was it likely he would risk a repeti-
tion of such treatment? Was it likely he would love the
nation which had acted thus? Even Sainte Aldegonde
began to have a superstitious fecling that everything
planned by this luckless city for its deliverance was bound
to come to naught. The best concerted schemes had invari-
ably failed through some frightful and inexplicable blunder
on the part of the people or their leaders. It could not be
marvelled at that an alien and a foreigner should look with
scorn and hostility upon a nation which was thus throwing
its salvation to the winds through the senseless obstinacy
of a turbulent community. He shrugged his shoulders and
returned to his house in a bitter frame of mind; whilst the
bright-eyed Gianibelli sank back into his former attitude
with a smile of malice and triumph on his face, saying
softly to himself as he did so,—

“Yes, the work of the wizard has been done. Giani-
ANTWERP AROUSED. 41I

belli’s name will live. What matter then if Antwerp fall ?
Has she not well deserved the ruin she is bringing upon
herself ?”

And Gianibelli’s name has lived, and moreover his
work lived too in a way he little thought of at the time.
And years later, when a vast armament from Spain was
bearing majestically down upon the shores of another
country, to try to effect there the ruin she had partially
effected in the Netherlands, a few almost harmless burning
boats sent adrift amongst that great squadron caused a
strange panic there.

“The Antwerp fire-ships!” was yelled by hundreds of
frantic voices, and Gianibelli’s genius received there a
tribute which would have been a source of sardonic satis-
faction to him had he but known it. The Antwerp fire-
ships were remembered long by the Spaniards who had
seen the awful destruction wrought by them, or had heard
the story from their comrades. The name of the maker
might be unknown or forgotten, but the diabolical ruin
effected by them lived long in the heart of man.

Failing in his first hope of getting a new and larger
“hell-burner” built with lightning speed, and sent down
under similar conditions to make another breach in the par-
tially-restored bridge, the Burgomaster was still resolved
not to let grass grow under his feet, and all the city had
awakened as perhaps it had never done before.

Anger, disappointment, irritation and fury, all helped in
that awakening. To have been within an ace of complete
victory, and to have had that victory snatched from their
412 ANTWERP AROUSED.

grasp through the blundering incompetence of the very
man against whose want of courage and energy they had
been warned from the first, was an aggravation the city
knew not how to put up, with, The unhappy Admiral
had to be smuggled out of the place and sent to Fort
Lillo, lest he should be torn in pieces by the very men
who had declared him to be capable of the task in which
he had so entirely failed.

And Antwerp thus aroused was not going to sink back
into apathy. From that day forward a more systematic
and persistent hostility towards the Spaniards was com-
menced. Whilst in secret there was consultation about a
great stroke to be attempted after due preparation, Parma
was now continually harassed and harried by ceaseless
feints and minor enterprises which left him no peace by
day or night. Sometimes it was mock fire-ships that
came floating down the river, striking terror into the
hearts of all who beheld their approach; sometimes some
active skirmishing, which relieved the people from a sense
of their inactivity without effecting any important result.
But whilst all this was going on, there was a constant
interchange of messages between the city and their allies
without, and at last it began to be known by every one
within the walls that after all this long year of delay a
resolute attempt was to be made to pierce the Kowenstyn
Dike, and bring the waters of the great ocean right up to
the walls of Antwerp!

Everything had come to pass exactly as the Prince of
Orange had foretold might be the case were this precau-
ANTWERP AROUSED, 413

tion not taken ; and the dike, bristling with Spanish forts
and block-houses, stood as a grim barrier against the waters
of the inundation which had become more or less general
in the land. If once that barrier could be pierced—if
once the waters of river and sea could come rolling over
the submerged plains, so that the grain-laden vessels could
be brought in triumph to the city—then indeed Parma’s
bridge would be useless as a child’s toy, and the memorable
siege would be at an end. It was a thing certainly worth
trying. It was guessed that the losses sustained by the
Spaniards through the explosion of the Hope must have
considerably crippled Parma’s resources. He was known to
be summoning reinforcements from places which could ill
spare them, and all this pointed to the fact that he too
was in difficulties. Had the patriots known how great
those difficulties were, their hopes would have run higher
than they did; but even as it was, it was ardently hoped
that a concerted attack upon the dike from both sides
might prove successful. The country around Antwerp was
now sufficiently submerged, owing to the constant piercing
of the smaller dikes by one party or the other for stra-
tegic purposes, for vessels of moderate dimensions to sail
from the city as far as the Kowenstyn Dike; though
beyond that they could not pass, owing to the great forti-
fied barrier hemming them in. But if, without any more
of those dreaded blunders, the fleet from the city on one
side, and the Zeeland fleet on the other, together with as
many soldiers as could be spared from the forts of Lillo
and Liefkenshoek, under Count Hohenlo, could combine
414 ANTWERP AROUSED.

some night suddenly and secretly, there was great hope
that a landing might be effected. And if from that
moment the sappers and miners began to demolish the
foundations of the dike, and let the volume of water on
the farther side roll over the already submerged plains,
why, then, not all the power that Parma could bring
against them would suffice to roll those waters back again.

And there seemed a really good hope that this plan
might succeed. The long watch needful against this
double set of foes was known to be trying the Spaniards
greatly. Moreover, some companies of men who had
hitherto been with Mondragon on the dike had been, since
the attack on the bridge, drafted thither to take the place
of their companions at the point where the danger seemed
like to be the most pressing. This, of course, left the
ridge of the long Kowenstyn less carefully and com-
pletely guarded, and it seemed possible that a sudden
landing somewhere between some of those frowning forts
might be successfully made before the Spaniards well knew
what the enemy purposed.

The city was aroused and alert, keenly interested in
this new venture, and resolved this time that there should
be no blundering. The people were on their mettle, and
their leaders also. Even Koppen Loppen was forgiven in
the hope that this next time he would retrieve his tar-
nished honour. He was back again in the city, full of
zeal in the new undertaking; and this time, although he
was to have a command in the attacking fleet, he was not
to take the responsibility alone. Sainte Aldegonde him-
ANTWERP AROUSED 415

self was to command the expedition; and although some
felt that a man whose presence was so sorely needed in
the city should not expose himself too much to peril, yet
the prevailing feeling was that his place was with his
soldiers in this last and most critical attack: for he was a
man of recognized military genius, and soldiers would follow
him and do his bidding by instinct, when they would turn
and flee if a man like the Admiral were leading them.

Every soldier in the city that could be spared was to
accompany the little fleet. Lionel Wilford mustered his
troop of well-trained militiamen, and begged to be allowed
to accompany the expedition. Malcolm and Maurice were
in that muster. Otto joined them for the nonce, he having
now recovered from his slight wound, though he had not
yet begun his old trade of messenger again. Joris would
be in one of the boats from Lillo with Count Hohenlo;
and that dashing soldier was in a fever to retrieve by suc-
cessful gallantry in this new attack the reputation he had
lost at Bois-le-Duc.

The temper of the people was more hopeful. They had
profited by their misfortunes, and were less quarrelsome
amongst themselves, more ready to listen to the advice of
men qualified to advise them, and altogether more amen-
able to reason than they had been at any previous time
during the siege. Threatened famine was teaching them
the importance of acting warily, and not throwing away
chances through obstinacy or folly. Slow as they had
been to learn this lesson, it seemed to have been driven
in upon them at last. Lionel would come home from
416 ANTWERP AROUSED.

discussions in Council with a brighter aspect and more
hopeful air, and announce that for once all had been in
accord; that the men who did not understand the work
left the decision of important points to those who did;
that the voice of their competent and talented Burgomaster
was at last listened to with becoming respect; and that
what he advised was almost unanimously agreed to, with
scarce any discussion, and with no wrangling and bickering.

“Tf the disasters we have hitherto had have taught us
wisdom at last, perchance they have been blessings in dis-
guise,” he said. “The men who at the beginning thought
they could do no wrong, and that every word they spoke
was a word of wisdom, are now so fearful of their own
past blunders that they scarce dare to open their lips.
There is but one feeling in all hearts—‘ Heaven send that
we blunder no more!’ There is hope when men thus
take to heart the lessons of the past. All now look to our
Burgomaster for counsel and advice. Each ignorant burgher
is not eager to give his opinion, and hold that he and he
alone knows best.”

All in that house in Hooch Straet were in joyous spirits
save young Maurice. The prospect of speedy release from
long captivity, the projected voyage to England, and the
hope of a speedy settlement in a country not overwhelmed
and ravaged by war, acted like a tonic on all the young
members of that household, and cheered them through any
little privations to which they might be subjected. War
had become at last hateful and terrible. Although they
had grown up in its atmosphere, and had for long taken
ANTWERP AROUSED. 417

its vicissitudes almost as a matter of course, they had
grown at length to hate it, and to loathe it with an un-
speakable horror. The long siege had worn out their
patience. A sense of disgust with both parties had of
necessity followed upon the blunders and the petty jeal-
ousies shown by so many of the patriots since the control-
ling hand of the Prince of Orange had been withdrawn.
A great depression had fallen upon many of those who long
strove to think the very best both of their countrymen
and of the cause they had in hand. The Wilfords and
Van der Hammers had felt this depression strongly, and it
had been an important factor in the decision they finally
made as to their own future. But that decision once taken,
hope and happiness returned in no small measure. All
had now something to look forward to—all had a new
hope and a new purpose in life; and when with all this
there came a reasonable hope of speedy release from these
iron walls, it could not but be that the rebound was great.
Since the time when the first personal blow fell upon
them, the household in Hooch Straet had not been so happy
and hopeful as now.

Maurice was the only exception. He seemed unable to
shake off his depression.

“TI know not how it is, but it seems as though some
black cloud were hovering over us, and coming very near,”
he said to Maud one day when she rallied him upon
his grave face and listless manners. “I only trust this
long-hoped-for release is not about to prove abortive.
Everything seems to point to a hopeful issue, and yet

(444) 27
418 ANTWERP AROUSED.

I cannot get this load off my heart. I would indeed I
could !”

Maud tried to rally him, and to shake off the qualm
which came over her at hearing these words; for, as has
been said before, young Maurice had always appeared to
be gifted in some sort with that faculty which is akin to
second sight, and he was seldom wrong in his premoni-
tions.

“Hast been dreaming again?” she asked, striving to
speak lightly.

“Nay; I have not dreamed as you mean for many a
long day. I go to bed weary from drill, and sleep without
vision or disturbance of any kind. It is but a feeling—a
weight on my spirit. Perchance it is all fantasy; it may
pass.”

Maud trusted that it might, and would not let herself
be cast down. Indeed, just now she was both too busy
and too happy to have room to cherish gloomy thoughts or
fears. All the city was alive with hope. Faces that had
been dark and lowering before were bright and smiling
now. Men spoke of nothing but the coming attack and
the messages constantly passing between them and their
allies. Plans were to be so carefully laid that there was
to be no chance of blundering; and with every heart so
full of hope and courage, it would be strange indeed if
something were not accomplished.

For one fearful day it seemed as though even now the
fate which had so long pursued them was to wreck the hopes
of the burghers yet. At the moment it happened Antwerp
ANTWERP AROUSED. 419

was sleeping peacefully, and knew nothing of the mishap ;
but a small tragedy was being even then enacted on the
dike.

Sainte Aldegonde had taken up his abode for the pres-
ent in Fort Tholouse, with the Antwerp fleet anchored
around ; and a beacon-fire had been built upon the roof
of the fort. Watchers in the tower of the Cathedral
in Antwerp had been stationed to keep a look-out by
night and by day; and so soon as this beacon-fire was
lighted they were to send up three rockets, to warn the
fleet at Lillo that the expedition from Antwerp had
started.

Unluckily the watchers mistook a camp-fire in the
neighbourhood for the beacon, and sent up their rockets
at a time when the Burgomaster and his ships and soldiers
had no intention whatever of commencing the attack. Of
course they saw nothing of the signalling-rockets; but the
watchers at Lillo did, and the little squadron started
forthwith, and catching the sentries asleep, effected a land-
ing between Fort St. George and Fort Palisade, and imme-
diately commenced the work of striving to pierce the dike.
Of course they expected each moment that their allies
would arrive from the other side, and equally of course they
were disappointed ; whilst the Spaniards, seeing how few
their assailants were, rallied themselves in a short space of
time, and drove them off the dike with considerable loss.

Such a commencement to the long-talked-of attack
might well cause dismay and consternation in the city.
The Zeelanders might well feel that it was useless to
420 ANTWERP AROUSED.

attempt to help such allies as these; and for a moment
there was a feeling that all was again lost. But the
Burgomaster would not permit discouragement to fall
upon his men. Rapid communication between him and
Count Hohenlo, who had led this first gallant attack,
quickly explained matters. The blunder was understood,
the suspicion of treachery laid to rest; and although, owing
to the renewed watchfulness of the Spaniards after this
preliminary attack, they had to wait awhile before making
another, the scheme was never abandoned; and the interval
of waiting was employed by the Zeelanders in the con-
struction of certain fire-ships by which they hoped to set
on fire the palisade-work which guarded the dike, and
perhaps the forts themselves.

It was a happy thought, and helped the expedition even
more than could have been expected. The Spaniards had
learned a great and not unnatural horror of these myste-
rious vessels, which had not long since blown a thousand

of their comrades into the air in a moment of time. When -

in the faint light of a May morning, just as the dawn was
beginning to break in the east, they saw these luminous
monsters approaching from the direction of Lillo, they
fled into their forts with greater discretion than courage,
fearing lest a rain of cannon-balls, harpoons, and plough-
shares should follow, and crush them to death as they stood.

The fire-ships themselves did little damage; but the
prompt flight of the Spaniards enabled the Zeelanders to
effect a landing on the dike in the very sight of their
enemies. They selected the same spot as before, where
ANTWERP AROUSED. 421

a mile-long space ran between fort and fort. But the
Spaniards, as though ashamed of their momentary panic,
came swarming out of their shelters, and in a moment the
dike was the scene of a desperate hand-to-hand encounter,
each party striving to fling the other into the oozy waters
of the river, slipping, shouting, wrestling together in all the
fury of sudden onslaught.

Then the guns of the forts opened upon the Zeelanders,
and for a moment they gave back in dismay. Their
enemies with shouts of triumph began hurling them back
over the steep sides of the dike, and some in a panic
sprang into their boats for safety. But just at the moment
when it seemed as though the fate of the day was already
against them, a lusty cheer from the other side of the
dike brought the glad news that their friends and allies
from the city had arrived. Sword in hand sprang Sainte
Aldegonde upon the dike, closely followed by a compact
band which numbered Lionel’s little picked troop amongst
them; and these bold soldiers, enthusiastically joyful at
being brought at last face to face with the beleaguering
foe, flung themselves upon the Spaniards with a force and
a fury that nothing seemed able to resist, and along the
dike they drove the dismayed soldiers back into the forts
which gave them temporary shelter; and then and there,
having cleared a large space upon the dike, and having for
the moment rid themselves of their foes, they set to work
without the delay of a moment upon the great work upon
which they were bent.

“Tntrench yourselves! intrench yourselves!” was the
422 ANTWERP AROUSED.

order shouted by the Burgomaster, and like lightning the
men flew to obey. There was no blundering now, and the
preparations had all been so carefully made beforehand
that the requisites for the work were ready to hand at a
moment’s notice.

The bold Zeelanders had not brought alone provisions
for the city in their fleet. Here were great barges laden
with hurdles, with sand-bags, with wool-sacks, with stakes,
planks—everything that could be wanted for the rapid
throwing up of the needful barriers to protect the sappers
and miners in their work of demolishing the great dike.
Nor did these bold fellows wait till they were thus pro-
tected. Leaving their comrades to throw up the intrench-
ment around them, they sprang to their task. Armed
with spade, pick, mattock, and shovel, they leaped through
the shallow water even before the word of command had
been given, and commenced their task like veritable furies.
Tearing, digging, delving, flinging away into the turbid
water huge masses of earth, they worked harder than any
convict or galley-slave ; whilst the red sun rose in the east
and seemed to look wonderingly upon this strange scene,
and these human beavers at their task.

The Spaniards meantime, though temporarily checked
and dismayed, were not long in recovering: their wonted
courage, and out they swarmed again to strive to demolish
these rapidly-rising barriers that were protecting a work
which meant the annihilation of their toil of months.
With yells of savage fury they rushed upon the invaders;
but their cries were returned with equal fury, and soldiers
ANTWERP AROUSED. 423

and citizens alike dashed at their foes with the ferocity
of mad bull-dogs, and drove them back again and yet
again.

The fate of Antwerp hung upon that narrow slip of
land—hung upon the work of demolition going on with
such wonderful rapidity.

On and on came the Spaniards, but each time they were
received with a fury which left them no alternative but
to retire within their forts. Lionel and his band were
stationed behind one of the barricades thus hastily but
strongly erected. Hohenlo guarded the other, and showed
a courage that went far to retrieve the reputation he had
so sorely tarnished but a few short months before. Success
gave renewed enthusiasm to the patriots. With shouts
and cries and yells of triumph they hurled back their foes,
and built up on either side those protecting walls that
were sheltering the men who were saving Antwerp from
her doom. Furious as was the onslaught, it was still
more furiously repelled. And meantime the Burgomaster,
together with that great patriot (destined to be so great a
power in days to come in the history of the Netherlands)
John Olden Barneveldt, was watching with wary eyes the
work on the one side and the fighting on the other, en-
couraging, cheering, praising, always ready with a word of
counsel, always seeing where a weak point might give the
enemy a chance; and as these watched and took counsel
together, the sappers and miners, half in the water and
half out, throwing off their upper garments as the heat of
the day increased, toiled on and on like veritable furies,
424 ANTWERP AROUSED.

thinking no more of fatigue than their brethren the soldiers
thought of hard blows and wounds. The guns from the
forts roared out, to be answered by like roars from the
Zeeland fleet. Soldiers locked in deadly embrace would
roll down the dike on this side or that, sometimes not even
loosening their hold in the blood-stained water below. It
was as fierce and desperate a fight as all that long Nether-
land war had seen; reckless fierceness, which had always
characterized the Spanish soldier, being now met by a
deadly, tenacious ferocity and dogged purpose which seemed
more than its match. It was war to the death on both
sides; and those who fought in this furious hand-to-hand
fashion knew little enough what was going on behind
these quickly-erected intrenchments, nor how their friends
the sappers and miners, whom they were protecting with
their own lives, were progressing with the work of de-
molition.

A shout, a cry, a yell of triumph! So loud and so
prolonged was this sudden terrific roar that on both sides
there was a momentary lull, whilst the bleeding and blood-
stained combatants paused to see what had chanced, and
then the patriots made the welkin ring with their terrific
cries of joy.

It was done—the dike was pierced! The tide, which
had long been slowly rising, now poured in one huge
volume of water over the great breach that had been made.
And rowed by willing hands, the men cheering lustily the
while, slowly came a huge grain-laden barge, one of the
many that lay close at hand, just beyond the range of the
ANTWERP AROUSED. 425

guns of the fort, ready to enter the city with their precious
freight.

There were sobs as well as shouts of joy as the soldiers
and citizens from the city saw the great vessel cautiously
cross the breach in the dike and lie upon the other and
the city side.

“God be praised! the Lord cf Heaven be thanked!”
So rose the cry that went up from a thousand throats,
“ Antwerp is saved! Antwerp is saved !”
CHAPTER XXI.
THE GREAT DIKE.

“ NTWERP is saved! Antwerp is saved !”

A The shout of triumph was going up from thou-
sands of parched throats as the great barge from the
Zeeland side of the dike, laden with its precious load of
food for the hungry city, floated slowly through the wide
breach already made by the sappers and miners, and was
carried by the rising tide clear over to the Antwerp side
of the great barrier.

The salt waves were rolling in one after the other—one
after the other. What matter that that broken dike had
been the grave of hundreds of bold patriots, that many of
the delvers who had dug so furiously there found their
last resting-place in its oozy foundations? The deed was
done. Antwerp was saved. The sparkling waves seemed
to laugh in triumphant sympathy as they cast themselves
through the breach and rolled onwards to the gate of the
city. At last, ah, at last there was a real victory for
Antwerp; no bungling here, no fatal cowardice at critical
moments! Those three thousand patriots, who had met at
the dike pledged to carry it or to die upon it, had nobly
‘THE GREAT DIKE. 427

kept their word. Hundreds lay dead; but the dike was
theirs—that mile-long space, the centre which was enough
for their purpose. The enemy, after desperate fighting, had
retired into their forts in discomfiture. The patriots, under
some of their boldest leaders, were carrying war into the
enemy’s quarters by assaulting Fort Palisade, which looked
about to fall into their hands. Where was the great
Alexander? some of the patriots scornfully asked. Four
leagues away at his bridge, answered Sainte Aldegonde
with a smile, engaged doubtless in repelling with his
wonted energy a fictitious attack upon that structure, with
which the Burgomaster had had the astuteness to strive
to keep the great general occupied whilst the real fight
was going on at the Kowenstyn.

Admirably planned, heroically carried out, this dash
upon the great dike had been a signal triumph. Joy,
exultation, and a rapture akin to madness now took hold
upon those who had led this successful attack. The enemy
had retired, beaten as it seemed. The sappers and miners
had for some time been pursuing their toil without obstruc-
tion. Fort Palisade was all but theirs. The fleet from
Holland and Zeeland was battering the fort, and ready to
flng raking broadsides at any foe who should venture
again to molest the industrious beavers. Victory was
theirs, absolute and final. Now must Antwerp be told this
good news; now must she see for herself what had been
accomplished! The great barge, the earnest of what was
to follow, was already lying on the inner side of the dike.
With a loud cheer of triumph Count Hohenlo sprang upon
428 THE GREAT DIKE.

her, waving his sword above his head and breaking out
into extravagant praise of his brave soldiers, and equally
wild expressions of triumph against the vanquished enemy.

“ Parma is vanquished !” he cried, in tones loud enough
to be heard for a long distance along the dike. “His
wondrous bridge is now but a child’s toy, as useless as the
broken plaything of an infant. The river is rolling back
to its old bed. The salt waves are already, I doubt not,
lapping the walls of Antwerp. Great fleets will ride
securely up to her very gates. Bread and wine and all
good things will be sold within her walls to-morrow in
abundance. The Spaniards may drown like rats in their
holes, or flee before the power of an enemy they cannot
resist. Brave men, our work is done. Victory is ours.
I go to take the glad tidings to the city, to set the joy-
bells ringing and the bonfires blazing. When the sun
sinks and you look towards the city, you will see by the
glow in the sky that we are holding high revel there.
Antwerp is saved! Antwerp is relieved! No fear from
Parma or his legions now! The great dike is ours! God
has fought for us and with us, and has overthrown the
enemy. ‘The long siege is at an end. Victory, victory !”

Wild shouting and cheers answered the speech, every
phrase of which had provoked a tumult of applause. After
the long and bitter struggle of the early morning, this
respite did indeed seem like victory itself; and if there
were some amongst those resting sword in hand upon the
slippery dike who thought that this emphatic triumph was
perhaps just a little premature, seeing how much yet
THE GREAT DIKE. 429

remained to be done, the bulk of the soldiers and of their
commanders were carried away by the enthusiasm of the
moment, and everything was forgotten but the almost
frantic joy of the thought that Antwerp was saved.

Sainte Aldegonde was amongst those who, in the ex-
ultant triumph of victory, thought more of taking the
joyous news to the city than of remaining with his soldiers
upon the dike. What was that strange fatality which
possessed all ranks of citizens alike during that fateful
siege, and rendered barren time after time the hard-won
victories they had waded through seas of blood to gain,
or had obtained by dashing acts of courage worthy of the
dogged stubbornness of their race ?

Why, oh why in this hour of seeming triumph did the
leaders of the brave men desert them, as though the day
were already absolutely won ?

The Burgomaster might possibly be forgiven for hasten-
ing back to the city, where so many eager thousands were
awaiting with breathless expectancy the news of the issue
of the day. Great preparations would have to be made
for the reception of those laden barges which would shortly
be coming in to fill the magazines, and make glad the
hearts of the patient citizens. But what was Hohenlo
thinking of, that he should abandon his post as Commander-
in-chief, deserting the soldiers, who might yet need a
general’s eye and voice over them, for the puerile pleasure
of hearing joy-bells rung and receiving the plaudits of the
excited populace ?

But the dashing Hohenlo had lost his head, as had all
430 THE GREAT DIKE.

too many on the dike that day. Eager, impetuous, and
rash, he claimed that the victory was already theirs. Not
pausing to remember the fatal error once made in like
fashion before, he was all in a fever to tell Antwerp of his
prowess, and to be féted by the fair dames who would
welcome him as a hero and victor. No, he would not be
left behind when the good news was to be told; and it
was by his command that several wounded Spaniards,
who appeared from their arms and accoutrements to be
men of mark and standing, should be lifted into the
barge, and taken into the city as a savage trophy of this
great triumph.

Joris and Otto were amongst those who were bidden to
lift these wounded men upon the deck of the barge; and
as they removed the helmet of one prostrate gallant, whose
armour bespoke him to be a youth of some mark, Malcolm
came suddenly hurrying up to exclaim,—

“By my troth, that is none other than Don Rodrigo de
Castro, the brother of our Sefior Alphonso !”

“Why, sure ‘tis the same face!” cried both Otto and
_ Joris at once. “It were well his brother should know of
this. Let us send Maurice back in charge of him, and he
will fetch Alphonso to his side. I fear me he is wounded
to the death. Men with that look upon their face seldom
rise up from their couch again. If he is to die, rather
let him die in peace with his brother beside him than
be trodden perhaps to death here on this dike, or washed
into the salt waves and drowned before any can come to
his aid.”
THE GREAT DIKE. 431

“A good thought!” cried Malcolm quickly. “I saw
Maurice but a moment ago. I will find and send him
back to the city. It were well they should have news at
home of how the day goes. It will comfort them to see
the lad safe and sound. Ah, here he comes! And me-
thinks he has had enough of fighting for one day.—How
now, Maurice? art. hurt, boy? Thy face is as white as
a kerchief. Bleeding too! Let me bind up that scratch,
and then thou shalt go back to the city to take news of
this victory to those at home.”

Maurice had no desire to leave the dike; but the
“scratch ” proved to be so deep a gash in his sword-arm,
and the loss of blood had been so great, that both Malcolm
and his brothers insisted he should relinquish all further
attempt at fighting, and return to the city to tell the news
there ; and the charge of the wounded Rodrigo reconciled
him at last to this errand. Tenderly and gently the
wounded man was laid down on the deck of the barge,
Maurice having charge of him, and then a great cheer
rang out from a thousand throats as the heavy-laden vessel
spread her brown sails to the slight favouring breeze, and
moved gently off in the direction of the city.

The cheer aroused the attention of some of the captains
who had been leading the assault of Fort Palisade, and one
amongst them, sword in hand, came hurrying back to ask
the cause. It was Lionel, who had been in the thick of
the fight the whole time, and who with his little company
had done most valiant service during those early hours of

assault and triumph.
432 THE GREAT DIKE.

Finding his kinsmen standing thus together in a little
knot, their eyes fixed upon the moving vessel, now many
hundred yards away, he asked what had befallen, and on
hearing opened wide his eyes in astonishment and dismay.

“Our Burgomaster and the Count both gone!” he cried ;
“both our leaders deserted us at the most critical moment
of this whole long and perilous siege! O my God! have we
not had enough of blunders? Is even this day’s triumph
to be snatched from our grasp ?”

It was so seldom that Lionel was betrayed into taking
the name of God thus upon his lips that the three youths
looked at him in wonder, and saw that he was strangely
moved.

“But, Lionel,” argued Malcolm, “ surely the day is won;
surely the dike is ours? Look how the salt waves are
rolling through the three great breaches! See that barge
which has floated over! In a few hours more, when we
have silenced the forts, a hundred such will be sailing
towards the city.”

“ When we have silenced the forts! when we have taken
the dike! Boy, do you think our work is yet done? I
tell you it is scarce begun. Do you think the Spaniards,
though silent and subdued for the moment, are conquered
yet? Do you think we shall hear no more of them?
Think ye that when the news of this fight reaches Alex-
ander’s ears he will rest in his camp and come not to the
aid of his veterans here? Where is Mondragon? where
is Mansfield—Capizucca—Cardona—Toralva? Are they
all sleeping, think you? Will they let us quietly make
THE GREAT DIKE. 433

good our work without a vehement attack? And where
will our leaders be when that attack comes? May Heaven
forgive them this folly, for it will be hard for man to
do so!”

“ But,” cried Malcolm in quick dismay, “why speakest
thou so, Lionel? The dike is piereed—the work is done.”

“The work is not done,” answered Lionel, tersely and
almost sternly. “It will be hours and hours before it can
be done in anything like a fashion that will be of per-
manent utility to Antwerp. ‘True, the barrier has been
bitten through, and that in three places; but think you
that these bites are deep enough or wide enough to bring
the ocean rolling to the gates of the city? Nay, they are
just sufficient at high tide for yon barge to float through ;
but when that tide ebbs again, you will soon see that the
breaches are utterly inadequate for the passage of the
relieving fleet, and it will need hours and hours of the
hardest toil ere the dike can be pierced past hope of easy
repair, were Parma once here to see to it. With the
waters rolling round them, the delvers can do but little
now ; and think you that in these hours when we are forced
to be idle our foes will be idle too? Nay, I trow we shall
soon have evidence enough that they are but mustering for
an attack more furious than the one we have repulsed.
And where are our leaders, if the enemy comes bearing
down upon us? Ringing joy-bells and feasting themselves
in the city! Heaven send their feast be not turned to
gall and bitterness whilst the meat is yet in their mouths!”

Greatly dismayed by thoughts which certainly had not
(444) 28
434 THE GREAT DIKE.

occurred of themselves to the inexperienced young soldiers,
they lost no time in organizing a determined party of
workers under Lionel himself for the further strengthening
and supporting their barricades-—those quickly-erected
intrenchments which had been thrown up to guard from
the attacks of the enemy the sappers and miners at their
toil.

The mile-long space between the two forts was practi-
cally theirs, and if once this main and central portion of
the dike could be demolished, victory would indeed be
secure. The diggers were still at work with a tenacity of
purpose and an industry that spoke well for their good-
will; but, as Lionel had said, whilst the tide was high
they could not get at the lower portions of the dike—
those solid foundations which it was all-important to
undermine and destroy. Much as had already been done,
there was much more still to accomplish. The breaches
which had already been dug could be repaired almost as
quickly as they had been made. It was only when the
very foundations of the great dike should be demolished,
and the salt sea come rolling in through clefts too wide
and deep to bridge, that Antwerp could truly be said to
be saved. The triumph which had been already achieved
might be almost as quickly snatched away, unless it were
followed up by a great deal more; and was this a time
for the two chief commanders to leave their soldiers, with
no one to take absolute command, each captain being
responsible for his own company, but having no superior
authority to look to for orders in the moment of peril ?
THE GREAT DIKE. 435

And what were the Spaniards doing all this while?
Were they as hopelessly beaten as the patriot leaders had
fondly imagined when they flew back to the city with the
news of the magnificent victory? And what was the
great Alexander doing away in his camp by the bridge ?
Was he altogether engrossed in repelling the feigned attack
there, or had he got wind that something was happening
farther away which required his personal supervision ?

Decidedly the Spaniards were not sleeping, though for
a moment they had been paralyzed by the suddenness of
the attack, and had given back before the furious assault
made upon them from both sides of the dike by the patriot
soldiers and their guns. But they had withdrawn only to
take counsel with their veteran commander, Count Mans-
field, who was stationed at Stabroek—a fort at the Pali-
sade end of the dike—and who had taken the precaution
earlier in the day, before the dike had been broken through
and closed to them, to send a message to the camp by the
bridge of what seemed likely to occur.

And now amongst the officers gathered together in
counsel the question was put, Should they wait for Parma’s
arrival, or for nightfall, when a surprise might be made
upon the wearied foe? or should they attack them now in
broad daylight, with everything against them? For by
this time the patriots were thoroughly intrenched upon
the narrow isthmus, three thousand strong, and every man
under a vow to sell his life rather than budge an inch—
a dogged, stubborn, and determined foe such as the
Spaniards had not had to face of late, albeit there had
436 THE GREAT DIKE.

been many such deadly moments of furious resistance en-
dured by them in the earlier stages of the war.

But the thought of waiting was intolerable to many of
the boldest spirits there, and the captain of the Italian
Legion, Camillo Capizucca by name, stood forth boldly, and
said,—

“And why should we wait for nightfall or for the
Prince? Would to Heaven he were with us! But since
he is not, and cannot be just at this juncture, are we to
stand by idle whilst yon rebel horde makes secure its posi-
tion, batters down or takes possession of our forts, and
cuts deeper and deeper through the dike, thus throwing to
the winds of heaven all these months of toil and hard
fighting? Shame upon us if we thus stand idle whilst
ruin is wrought to the Spanish cause! Every hour that
we wait gives the enemy power and strength, and puts
into his hand a sword to slay us witha]. Count Mansfield,
and you brothers-in-arms and gentlemen, I pray you let
me forthwith lead my men to the attack. I claim not that
I and my band are more valorous than others, but I do
claim that none be more devoted to the Prince of Parma
than we. On this very instant we will sally forth to vic-
tory or death, as he in like case would do; and let all
who feel with us follow with us, and drive yon heretic
rabble from the position they have taken up!”

This spirited speech was received with great applause,
and instant preparations were now made for the attack.
Indeed the chief difficulty was like to be the eagerness with
which each officer desired to be foremost to dash upon
THE GREAT DIKE. 437

the foe. Upon that little band of land scarce ten yards
wide the soldiers had to march in narrow file, and both
Spaniards and Italians were now zealous to lead the shining
array. For a moment it seemed as though a quarrel for
precedence might mar the harmony of the day, as some
Spanish reinforcements under Don Juan d’Aquila came
hurrying up, eager to join in the fray they had heard from
afar. But the leaders were too wise to permit this rivalry
to engender bitterness, and grasping each other by the
hand, declared that hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder
that day’s fight should be fought. First invoking the aid
of the Blessed Virgin and the Holy Saints, whilst the
soldiers all fell on their knees and crossed themselves, the
gallant leaders started together at the head of their
enthusiastic troops; and after a rapid march, cheering as
they moved, they flung themselves upon the patriots at-
tacking Fort Palisade, and after a short and sharp action,
in which there was considerable loss of life on both sides,
succeeded in driving them back within their own intrench-
ments.

- “Victory, victory!” shouted the Spaniards and Italians
as they saw this; and Capizucca, wiping his sword and
looking round with approval upon his men, said shortly
and decidedly,—

“Victory indeed! and from henceforth this fort shall
be known as Fort Victory; for methinks this is but the
first step towards as gallant and decisive a victory as the
annals of these long wars has yet seen.”

A great cheer greeted this speech, and suddenly it
438 THE GREAT DIKE.

seemed as though that cheer was taken up and echoed
by their allies a mile away, and beyond Fort St. George.
Could they have heard and answered? It was possible,
and yet it scarce seemed likely.

“What is it?” asked one and another. “Have they
seen, and are they giving us answer ?”

But for a moment all was in uncertainty, whilst the
cheering from the opposite end of the dike seemed to swell
and increase, and at last the watchman from the top of
the fort cried out,—

“T see now! I see now! It is the Prince of Parma.
The Prince has arrived. Victory, victory !”

The wild enthusiasm which now spread from rank to
rank of the warlike legions brought to this desperate en-
counter boded little good for the patriot party, deserted
by their own leaders at this most critical moment. The
magnetic power of Alexander Farnese in the field was well
known to both sides. Wherever he was—ever in. the
forefront of the peril—there the men toiled and fought
and died with the utmost devotion and constancy. It
needed but the knowledge that his eye was upon them to
energize the weakest and most timid soldiers into heroes
for the time being. As with the Prince of Orange, so
with the Prince of Parma: their personal presence often
did more for a cause than that of ten thousand soldiers.
And here, as ever, just in the nick of time, came that
redoubtable general in person to the spot where the need
was sorest—not deluded by the feigned attack upon the
bridge, though he had remained a short while there to
THE GREAT DIKE. 439

direct operations and see that there was no blundering,
but with all his energy and his authority just where it
was most needed. No wonder that an electric thrill of
triumph already ran through the Spanish ranks ; no wonder
_ that there were some amongst the patriots whose hearts
sank within them as the name of Parma was shouted in
every exultant accent by their foes. They were not
beaten yet. With dogged resolution and desperation they
resolved to hold their own, and not to leave that dike. till
it had been ruptured to its very foundations. But all the
while there was within them a bitter feeling that they had
been deserted—that they had been left in the hour of peril
by those who should have been the last, not the first, to
quit the spot. And the very fact that Alexander of Parma
was there to lead on and cheer and encourage his own
soldiers in their task made the contrast between his cease-
less activity and the blind confidence of their own general
the more marked and the more disheartening.

The Prince arrived at a critical moment for Spain. The
rebels had not been idle during the three hours they had
had for fortifying themselves in their position on the narrow
belt of land; and the sappers and miners, when hindered
in their own toil by the rising waters, had employed them-
selves busily in throwing up earthworks and strengthening
the intrenchments behind which they were again to work.
Materials in plenty were to their hand; and Parma saw
that formidable bulwarks had been erected against him,
whilst behind these bulwarks the eager diggers and delvers
were again at their task of the rapid destruction of the dike.
440 THE GREAT DIKE.

If this destruction were to be hindered and Antwerp
balked of her hope, there was indeed no time to be lost.
The ebbing tide was uncovering more and more of the
great bulwark, and deeper and deeper was it being bitten
into by a hundred picks and shovels. Once let it be
pierced to its very foundations, and Antwerp was safe
from him for ever. None knew that better than Parma;
but also he well knew that that task was one of immense
labour, and could not be carried out under many more
hours of intense toil. It was his business to see that that
toil never was accomplished ; and he felt himself equal to
the task, even though the morning hours of the day had
seen such disaster to the Spanish flag.

From rank to rank he passed in person, setting the attack
in order, and cheering by his magnetic presence the droop-
ing spirit of those who had begun to think the day lost.

“He who refuses this day to follow me,” he said, as he
briefly addressed the assembled array, “has never had re-
gard to his own honour, nor has God’s cause or the King’s
ever been dear to his heart.”

Those words were enough: the soldiers answered by a
shout and a cheer, Spaniard vying with Italian to show
enthusiasm for the cause and for their general. Their
watchmen informed them that from Fort Palisade, on the
other side of the breach and the intrenched camp of the
rebels, Spanish soldiers were steadily advancing to the at-
tack. It was for these two bands to hew themselves a
way through the rebels, and meet together in triumph, and
the deed was done.
THE GREAT DIKE. 441

Near to the Prince of Parma, and therefore near to the
forefront of the desperate charge, marched Carlos de Cueva
and Diego de Escolano. They knew that Rodrigo had
been stationed latterly within one of the forts along the
dike, and trusted to come upon him in the mélée before
long. He was sure to have been in the thickest of the
fighting earlier in the day. From him they would doubt-
less hear the account of how the attack had been made,
and how the enemy had obtained so great a triumph in
thus getting a footing on the dike.

But it was no child’s play, it was the grimmest earnest,
this march along the dike, and the furious assault upon
the enemy’s intrenchments. From the boats upon both
sides of the dike boomed forth the steady cannonade of
the patriots; and although this was answered as steadily
and as furiously from the Spaniards in the forts, the ranks
of the assailants were terribly mown down by the cross-
fire, and the waters were stained red with human blood.

Doubtless within the intrenchments the cannonade was
doing work as deadly, and the rebels were falling by tens
and scores too; but at present the assailants could not
judge of that, as they marched onwards with intrepid
courage, those from behind pushing on in place of the
comrades who had fallen, in grim silence now, only longing
to meet the foe hand to hand along that oozy dike, grow-
ing slippery with blood. The guns were doing good work
for them, in slowly shattering and disabling many of the
ships and boats which had gathered round the dike, and
which one ofter another became silenced—some for lack of

‘
442 THE GREAT DIKE.

ammunition, some because they had become unmanageable.
But for the moment, in the unceasing and terrific roar
nothing could be distinguished; and in the stern, set
faces of assailants and assailed there was nothing to be
read but an absolute determination to conquer in the fight,
or to die sword in hand upon the disputed bulwark.

It could scarcely be called a battle; it was a series of
hand-to-hand duels, fought all along that mile of dike,
where the patriots had intrenched themselves, and where
the Spaniards, breaking at last through those intrench-
ments by sheer weight of numbers, flung themselves upon
their foes, and drove them hither and thither, or were
themselves driven backwards and hurled into the mire and
water beneath.

No pen can describe the scene ; for me such an attempt
would be to court disastrous failure. Amongst all the
deadly and grim fights with which this long, long war
may fairly be said to bristle, none was more grim, more
deadly, more long remembered, than this ghastly fight upon
the Kowenstyn. Deeds of personal valour of the most
daring kind were everywhere to be witnessed. Soldiers
and burghers, sappers and miners, citizens and men of
mark and renown, were alike actuated by the same spirit,
and fought as if the very demon of battle were within them.
The obstinate valour and tenacity shown on both sides
was a marvel even to those who had witnessed many grim |
tussles round the walls of a city or in the open field. Per-
chance if the patriots had had their leaders to cheer and
direct them, perchance had the tide not deserted them by
THE GREAT DIKE. 443

its quick ebb at this critical moment, the fate of the day
might even now have been different. But, alas for the
cause of liberty ! the well-directed fire upon the Zeeland
squadron, and the quick fall of the tide, combined to make
further assistance from the ships impossible. They were
half of them disabled, others were seriously crippled, and
unless they remained to fall a prey into Parma’s hands,
they must of necessity sheer off into deeper water as the
tide fell.

The commander had no alternative but to sound a re-
treat and recall his men; and as the Antwerp soldiers saw
themselves deserted by their allies, who‘ could scarcely be
blamed at the last for hurrying back to their ships, a
sudden despair took the place of the wild enthusiasm which
had filled them hitherto, .and a panic succeeded, which
the brave officers strove in vain to allay. The English,
Scotch, and Flemish captains all did their utmost ; but there
was no commander to look to, no head to direct proceed-
ings, now that the fortune of the day had turned. The
Spaniards were in that state of mad fury which always
fell upon them when victory was assured, and yelling out
that the sea had deserted the rebels, and that all was lost,
they flew like bull-dogs upon the terrified remnant. Then
began a scene of carnage that those who survived it shud-
dered to remember to the end of their days.

Of those who fell upon the dike, or were drowned in the
waters of the Scheldt, or smothered in the slimy ooze, no
record was ever accurately given, but they must have been
counted by the thousand. Koppen Loppen was amongst
444 THE GREAT DIKE.

the victims, and perhaps to die a soldier’s death was the
happiest thing that could now have befallen him.

Of those with whom this story is concerned it fared but
sadly. Otto and Joris had fallen side by side before the
intrenchments, led by Lionel again and again against the
furious assailants, beaten back inch by inch, but refusing
to give ground, till almost all the gallant little band had
fallen, and the two swift messengers lay still and silent
in their last sleep, to be pushed hastily aside with heaps
of slain into the miry waters, lest the mass of corpses
might impede too much the onward rush of the Spanish
and Italian legions.

As for Lionel himself, though sorely wounded, his life
was yet whole in him when this terrible rout began; and
what one man could accomplish he did to stem the torrent,
and together with Morgan and James, and many other
gallant officers, worked might and main to encourage their
despairing followers and rally them even when all hope of
victory was at an end. Beside him, rather as though he
bore a charmed life, strode Malcolm, active, alert, and full
of zeal and courage. His quick eye and ready arm had
many times saved his brother’s life. But things had now
grown so desperate that it was hopeless to strive to turn
the tide of battle. For the few living and wounded sol-
diers to return to Antwerp with the ill news was all that
could now be accomplished; and with a stern, set face
Lionel stood by, assisting the maimed, bleeding, and ex-
hausted men into the boats that had the boldness to
approach near enough to receive them, Malcolm giving
THE GREAT DIKE. . 445

him all assistance, and often cutting down a Spanish sol-
dier who, with needless brutality, would strive to inflict a
death-wound upon a poor wretch being thus lifted in.

But all the Spaniards were not thus cruel. As a quick
rush was being made by some half-dozen yelling fiends
to strive to stop this work of mercy, a young officer, in
handsome armour and of very lofty height and presence,
suddenly stepped down amongst them, and with his own
sword beat back the foremost ruffian, who sought to hinder
the transit of the wounded into the barge.

“ Back, knave,” he called out, in tones of cool authority,
“or I run you through the body with mine own rapier!
Surely you have had blood enough for one day! Let these
men be. Let them carry their wounded away to the city.
The dike is ours. That is enough. Begone, I say! We
have spilt blood enough in the fight; we will not disgrace
our victory by needless carnage.”

The men growled, but shrank ‘back instantly ; and the
young officer, sword in hand, stood quietly by, watching
the rapid embarkation of escaped and wounded soldiers,
lending a helping hand himself sometimes, and interposing
many times when some Spaniard or Italian would have
offered resistance.

At last Lionel, having done all he could, turned to
this stranger and said,—

“Sefior, I know not who you are, but I thank you.
Do me one more favour: engage with me in single com-
bat, and give me my quietus. I had thought to go back
in hope and triumph to this unhappy city; if I return
446 THE GREAT DIKE.

now, it is in disgrace and misery. Better to leave my body
here with those who have won the soldier’s death denied
to me; better—”

But the sentence was never finished. The long strain
and the loss of blood, which had gone far to turn Lionel’s
steady head and clear brain, had been too much. Even as
he spoke he sank swooning to the ground, and the stranger,
with a smile upon his face—he had removed his helmet as
he stood watching this embarkation—stooped and raised
him in his strong arms.

“Lay him with the others; he will yet live to do good
service to your people, I doubt not,” he said to Malcolm,
who was standing waist-deep in the water, helping in the
fugitives and the wounded. “Is he kin of yours?”

“My brother,” answered Malcolm briefly, for his heart
swelled so that he could scarcely frame the words.

“A right noble brother to have,” replied the tall Span-
iard. “Take care of him, and see him safe to the city;
for methinks he will need care and good tendance, though
he be not hurt to the death, I take it. Now, good youth,
in with thee thyself! I may not much longer be able to
keep back these bloodhounds. Thou hast heard what our
Spanish soldiers are like when they have tasted blood.”

Malcolm hesitated,

“Thad not thought of returning myself,” he said, with
a strange gleam in his blue eyes; “I would sooner remain
here—to fight yet again.”

A smile broke over that handsome, noble face. He put
out his hand and laid it on Malcolm’s shoulder.
THE GREAT DIKE. 447

“T like thee for that feeling, boy; it is the true soldier
spirit. But wert thou ten years older, and hadst thou seen
as much of warfare as I have, thou wouldst know that it
is a better and indeed a braver thing at times to retreat,
when retreat is inevitable, than to fling thyself upon the
swords of the foe, when there is naught to be gained by
the casting away of thy life. Go back with these to the
city ; and the day may come when thou wilt meet us yet
in the field. Thou must learn to take defeat as well
as victory. If every army was cut to pieces 7n toto at
every lost battle, where would the cause be? Back to
the city, boy! Thy death will profit Antwerp nothing ;
thy life may be of value to others besides thyself. Think
of them and not of thine own humiliation.”

Malcolm did so, and after a moment or two of reluctant
hesitation sprang into the boat.

“May I ask your name, Sejior?” he said ; “methinks I
have seen your face before. Yes, surely—”

“T am Don Carlos de Cueva.”

“The friend and comrade of Alphonso!” cried Malcolm,
with sudden animation. “He will be glad to hear news
of you.”

“You are then one of those who have sheltered him! I
am glad I have been thus able to succour you and your
comrades. In days to come perchance we may meet again.”
CHAPTER XXII.
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

7 AVED! saved! saved!”—* Victory! victory !”—

S “Hurrah for the noble Burgomaster !”—*“ Hurrah
for the brave Count Hohenlo!”—“Oh, thank Heaven for
this welcome relief !”—-“God be praised for all His mer-
cies!” —* Victory ! victory !”—“ Death to the Spaniards !”
—“Confusion to all who withstand the true faith !”—
« Antwerp is saved! Antwerp is saved !”

The town was ringing with these frantic cries. The
citizens, almost mad with joy, were rushing out of their
houses and about the streets, falling on each other’s necks,
wringing each other by the hand, exclaiming, gesticulating,
shouting, and weeping. The bells from all the steeples
began to thrill out their wild, glad message, pealing and
ringing through the clear air as though the very spirit of
joy were in them. Wild as were the clash and the clamour,
it was none too wild for the frantic excitement of the
people. The thing was done— the dike was pierced!
Antwerp was saved! Women who had bravely stood the
long strain of wearing anxiety now suddenly broke down
and wept aloud as the joy-bells clanged and crashed above
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 449

their heads, drowning the tumult of voices in the streets,
and laying to rest all doubts but that the cause of the
tumult had been rightly divined. Young girls clung to-
gether laughing and weeping wildly, not knowing how
otherwise to express their joy and give vent to those
feelings of intense thankfulness which this glad release
from anxiety and fear brought with it. Strong men
meeting in the streets grasped hands, and felt that choking
in the throat which hinders ready speech; and fathers
and mothers, with their children about them, fell upon
their knees and gave thanks aloud to God for His great
mercy in sending help at last when it had almost seemed
as though no help could come.

The awful chain that had bound them in so many long
months, and seemed at the last to be eating into their very
hearts, was snapped in twain. The decisive blow for
which they had long been preparing was struck at last,
and—oh, God be thanked!—struck with deadly and
effectual purpose.

From early dawn the wharfs and quays of the city had
been lined and crowded with eager watchers, pale-faced
crowds of men and women, who heard through the still,
cold air of the early morning the boom of the battle, and
knew that upon that narrow rampart of earth the whole
fate of the city hung. How was the day going? What
meant those sounds of strife? What guns were those
booming out with ceaseless roar? Had the Zeeland fleet
been faithful? Had there been promptitude without

blundering? What, ah, what was going on only a few
(444) 29
450 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

leagues away? Wild hopes alternated with sickening fears ,
and sometimes a weary and perhaps only half-fed woman
waiting in that crowd would sink to the earth, overcome
by the flood-tide of emotion, and strong arms would lift
and bear her away, whilst the patient throng stood still
waiting—waiting—watching !

The tide rose higher and higher, and suddenly a voice
rang through the stillness of expectation, which had be-
come almost awful.

“See! see! see! it has passed high-water mark. Look !
it is above high-water line. Men of Antwerp, that can
but betoken one thing: the dike is broken—the dike is
pierced !”

A shout, a cheer, breathless, tremulous at first, but in-
creasing in volume and intensity as the news spread like
wildfire through that dense, packed crowd. The sun had
broken through the morning mists, and suddenly poured
a golden radiance over the city. It was like an omen of
success. The shout was taken up and echoed by tens of
thousands of voices.

“The dike is broken! the dike is broken! Oh, God in
Heaven be praised for this mercy !”

But yet the crowd moved not from its station, save that
a few scouts rushed through the streets yelling out the
news to the citizens who yet remained within, and who
came flocking to their windows. If indeed the news were
true, if indeed this higher tide betokened the success of
the dike-breakers, surely tidings would quickly be de-
spatched by boat to the city. Of all that breathless, wait-
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 451

ing crowd there was not one willing to leave before the
suspicion and glad hope had been made a certainty.

Nor had they long to wait. Again had the deep, pal-
pitating silence of intense excitement fallen upon the vast
multitude—that silence which seems only to be broken
by the heart-throb of a huge assembly all gathered together
in one place for one purpose, thrilled by one hope, pulsating
‘ with one ardent longing, the heart of the many beating
as the heart of one, death-like stillness having hushed all
words, because the intense expectation of the moment is
too deep for speech.

“A sail! a sail! a sail!”

The ery was from above. It began like a distant mur-
mur of summer breezes, and was taken up and passed on,
till the murmur became a hum and the hum a roar. The
crowd surged and swayed like a sea stirred by a sudden
blast of wind. Articulate words were lost in shouts and
cries and sobs; for as if by magic a wild whisper had
gone through the people that this was no Antwerp boat
returned, but a craft from Zeeland—one of those great
barges so well known and so warmly welcomed by the
citizens a while ago. “A Zeeland boat! a Zeeland boat !”
The ery went up like a thunder-peal from ten thousand
throats. That could but mean one thing ; that was evidence
none could gainsay: the dike was pierced! the dike was
pierced! The city was saved!

Oh the mad excitement and ecstasy of those long min-
utes, whilst the barge with stately dignity was slowly
rowed past those quays upon which half the townsfolk had
452 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

assembled! Oh the yells, the cheers, the shouts, as the
dashing and handsome Count Hohenlo, his golden curls
floating round his head, his armour stained and flecked
with blood, but bright and gay despite the tokens of strife,
stood in the vessel’s prow and waved his acknowledgment
of this thunder of applause, calling out to the eager and
enthusiastic multitude that the thing was done; that the
dike was broken; that the great waves from the ocean
were rolling over the breach thus made; and that soon the
Zeeland fleet, laden with boundless supplies, would be fol-
lowing them to receive the welcome of which this was but
the foretaste !

Oh the shouts and wild cries of joy and triumph! Was
it wonderful that the city went well-nigh mad? A thou-
sand arms were stretched out as though to embrace this
deliverer ; a thousand voices called down Heaven’s blessing
upon him as he stood smiling there in all the bravery of
youth and beauty and success. There was the Burgo-
master too, his powerful face, pale and worn with the long
strain, lighted up now with joyous smiles. There were
cheers for him, and for all the gallant band who had gone
forth pledged to victory or death, and who in these few
short hours had achieved a signal and glorious victory.

It was a never-to-be-forgotten day and hour. The
whole city was in a ferment of unspeakable delight. Per-
haps in all that town, at that moment of tumultuous joy,
there was only one man who stood aloof with mocking
smile and sinister words, and that man was Gianibelli.

He had not been able to resist the infection of excite-


AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 453

ment when the distant booming of the guns was heard.
He had joined old Van der Hammer in the street, as the
latter passed his dwelling ; and Veronica, seeing that Maud
and Alphonso were with him, slipped on her hood and
came out too. She, like all those in Hooch Straet, had
not slept that night—had scarcely attempted to rest. Was
not her heart as closely bound up in that coming con-
test as theirs could be? Had not Malcolm gone forth to
the fight with every soldier that Antwerp could spare?
Ever since it became known in the city that the signals
had been sent up warning the Zeelanders of the coming
attack, not an eye had closed in sleep. Pale with watch-
ing and anxiety, but full of hope and confidence, the girls
could not consent to be left behind. Maud and Coosje
were too restless not to follow when the Vader took his
hat and declared he must go down to the quay. He looked
rather taken aback to find that the maidens were bent on
coming too, but knew not how at such a moment to say
them nay; and Alphonso, asking leave to accompany and
protect them, the whole party sallied forth together.

They did not mix with the vast and increasing crowd,
but by a little dexterous management succeeded in slipping
through the throng and entering one of the warehouses,
close alongside the quay, belonging to the merchant, of
which he had the key.

The warehouses had long been empty—there was no
trade with a beleaguered city; but the bare walls gave
them shelter and protection from the throng, and from an
unglazed upper window they could see over the people’s:
454 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

heads, and had been in an excellent position for watching
the arrival of the barge as it made its triumphal entrance
into the city.

But they were penned within this place for a while.
It would not have been prudent to sally forth just at once
into the midst of the wildly-surging crowd that seemed to
have gone mad in its joy. Whilst the sobs and shouts of
the people below testified to their intense joy and triumph,
whilst Maud and Coosje kissed each other with tears, and
Van der Hammer, uncovering his head, reverently gave
thanks to God for this deliverance, the Italian stood apart
with a sardonic smile upon his face, and remarked in his
scoffing and sneering fashion,—

“The dike is pierced, is it, my brave young captain ?
The Zeeland fleet, with its bountiful supplies, will soon be
here in Antwerp, will it? I would have counselled you,
my gay young blunderer, to have waited till that hope had
become a certainty, and have escorted it in triumph home
yourself. What is one barge-load of grain to a starving
city? Where is the evidence of this marvellous triumph
that is sending all yon crowd of fools raving mad? Wait
and see, my friends, before you offer up your pious thanks-
givings. Wait and see!”

“Q father,’ cried Veronica, softly and pleadingly,
“spoil not our joy in this so happy moment.”

“What mean you, sir?” asked Van der Hammer, with
more quickness of speech than he was wont to show.
“Sure our own eyes have received testimony that the
dike is broken, else could not yon barge have entered these
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 455

waters. What more have we to fear from our foes? The
dike once broken—”

“May be quickly repaired if your position upon it be
not made wondrous strong. Will Alexander Farnese stand
by idle whilst the work of months is being swept away ?
In his absence from the scene of action a victory has been
won; but when the great Alexander reaches the spot, as
he must do on hearing the ill tidings, will he rest content
to leave his enemies in possession? Is a great dike dug
to its foundations in an hour—in three—in six hours?
Fools! fools! fools! Let them take heed that their joy
be not turned into mourning!”

“O father, say not so!” cried Veronica, who had come
to have a great dread of her father’s evil prognostications,
since they had so often proved themselves to be true.
“Surely our brave soldiers have accomplished the hardest
part of their task. They have won a footing on the dike;
they have made a breach. Surely what they have won
they can maintain, be the Prince of Parma never so brave
and skilful.”

“Ay, if their leaders were with them to guide and
direct,” answered Gianibelli, with a fierce sneer; for his
bitterness against the folly of the Dutch had never been
laid aside. “But their leaders have thought good to desert
them at the first flush of triumph. Or have they left our
bold and worthy friend Koppen Loppen in sole charge of
the army, he having proved so marvellously well fitted for
a position requiring courage and generalship? It would
be like them; it would be all in a piece with what has
456 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

gone before. O ye fools of Antwerp, great men and small!
Methinks ye will never learn wisdom till your city has
been humbled to the very dust.”

This prognostication of Gianibelli’s, coupled with his
perfectly just criticism of the conduct of the two men who
had joint-command of the expedition—Hohenlo being the
commander from Lillo, and Sainte Aldegonde from Antwerp
—somewhat dashed the joy and hopefulness of the party
in this bare room; and not even the tumultuous sounds of
joy without could entirely restore to them the first sense
of triumph and delight. Gianibelli, tracing patterns with
his stick upon the dust on the floor, was demonstrating to
Van der Hammer that even deep breaches in the dike might
quickly be filled up again at the ebb tide, if the sappers
and miners had not penetrated to the foundations, and this
would be a work of considerable time and great labour.
If the dike could be held for four-and-twenty hours, then
this might be accomplished ; but these bites in the top of |
it, though enough to enable a barge at high water to float
over, were by no means of necessity the salvation of
Antwerp. Gianibelli was too skilful an engineer for his
words not to carry all too much weight; and now indeed
did it seem a terrible blunder for the two commanders to
have left their post in face of the peril to be apprehended
so soon as Parma should appear on the scene of action with
his eagle eye and inspiring presence. Van der Hammer
groaned aloud as he thought what might even now be hap-
pening, and the joy-bells smote upon the ears of that little
party with something of mockery in their clash of gladness.
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 457

They were roused by a hammering at the outer door,
and going to open it, found Maurice, flushed and breathless,
standing without. His quick eyes had caught sight of the
party at the window as the barge passed by, and he had
fled to find them so soon as the boat touched the quay.

“Victory! victory!” he shouted, as he embraced his
sister and bent his knee for his father’s blessing. “Oh,
I would you had all been there to see that gallant fight,
and the great salt waves dashing through the breach when
our bold fellows had dug it! But I must not tell my
story now; that will keep till another time. I come with
news for our Sejior. Ha! he is there. I saw him not at
first.—Sefior, I fear me I bring you ill tidings; but I was
intrusted with the care of your brother, who was placed
upon the barge wounded, and nigh to death, as I fear me.
Our men thought that the sight of some of their slain or
wounded enemies would be pleasing to them of this town ;
and although the thought was something savage, perchance,
it seemed well to lift Don Rodrigo out of the crush and
trampling tumult of the dike and place him in safety on
the barge, where at least he could lie at ease, and be tended
in some sort by any who had a thought to give him. They
sent me hither with him, since I could not well fight much
more; and I have done for him what I could, but I fear
me—” and Maurice paused, looking hesitatingly at Al-
phonso, as if afraid to say more.

He understood, and bent his head in acknowledgment
of the kindness shown them both, as he said;—

“Canst take me to him, good lad?”
458 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

" «Yea verily, if I may,” he answered, looking at his father ;
for Alphonso was not quite like a free citizen, and could
not go and come altogether as he would. Van der Hammer
understood the unspoken question, and replied,— .

“The people be too mad with joy to heed us. Come,
let us go together and visit this sick captive. Perchance
we might move him to Hooch Straet. It were better for
him to lie there than here.”

Van der Hammer was a man who was able generally to
carry out what he desired, and on these quays he had
always been a power. The crowd was dispersing now to
set the bonfires blazing, and to attend the two triumphant
commanders through the roaring streets to the Burgomaster’s
house. Others were unloading the barge of grain, and
making great preparations for the reception of the vast
stores that were to be soon brought into their magazines.
The wounded prisoners had been left to the tender mercies
of anybody who would give an eye to them, save that the
Count Spinola, an Italian officer of some reputation, who
had been brought thither mortally wounded, had been car-
ried off as a sort of trophy to be publicly displayed to all
who cared to see him; and Alphonso in an instant picked
out his brother from the few motionless forms lying to-
gether, and was bending over him the next moment and
speaking his name. But Rodrigo was quite unconscious,
and did not hear or answer; and in a short time he was
transported under the direction of the master of the house
to the comfortable mansion in Hooch Straet, where Maud
gave up her time willingly to try to bind up his wounds
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 459

and restore him to consciousness, although no one could
look at him and doubt that his life was fast ebbing away.

Alphonso, pale but perfectly calm, assisted the ministra-
tions of the girl, the joy-bells and frantic cheering in the
streets below coming as a strange accompaniment to his
task. At last the workers were rewarded by seeing the
fast-shut eyes slowly unclose, and Alphonso bent forward
and spoke his brother’s name.

A look of recognition dawned in the eyes of the dying
man.

“ Alphonso!” he whispered, and then strove to lift his
head and look about him. But his brother laid him back
and told him all he wished to know.

“Seek not to speak, my brother; thou hast not strength.
It is not I who have come to thee, but thou who hast been
brought hither to me, here in this beleaguered city. Our
general has had a reverse upon the dike. Antwerp is to
be saved at last. But we must not count them as foes
who have shown such kindness to thee and me. I have
long since ceased to do so. I owe my life to their care
many times over.”

The hand of death was upon Rodrigo. The strife of
earth already seemed far distant from him. It was not of
his lost cause (as he would have believed it to be) nor of
the mortification of defeat that he was thinking, but of his
brother—the one being in the world whom he had to love,
and whom he was about to leave behind, a prisoner in the
hands of the foe.

“Tell me of thyself, Alphonso, of thyself,” he whispered
460 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

faintly. “I have not long to live. I shall die a soldier's
death, which is all I ever asked or wished. But what of
thee—of thee ?”

“My brother, I have ceased to desire a soldier’s life;
and I fear me did I desire it never so well I should prove
but a sorry soldier in the future. Since thou must go I
have no desire for the camp, nor yet for the home we once
loved as boys together. Rodrigo, when we may leave this
city at last, and I have my liberty restored to me, which
these good friends assure me of, methinks I shall sojourn
to England and reside there. Thou art surprised, but it
is no new thought to me. Spain would no longer be safe
for me. I have no time to explain to thee why. I love
not the thought of returning thither, and since thou art
not there my last tie is broken. To England—free En-
gland—TI trust I may soon travel, and there I hope to
wed her to whom my heart has long been given. When
once as a free man I may think such thoughts again,
I know well now who is the maiden whom I shall ask to
share my life with me, for I love her with my whole
heart and soul.”

Maud had left the brothers together when once the
wounded man recovered consciousness, but not before
Rodrigo’s eyes had dwelt more than once with a wistful
admiration and gratitude upon her fair face.

“Was it yon maid who went from us but now?” he
asked; and although Alphonso coloured quickly as he for
the first time put the thought into definite shape, he
answered without hesitation,—
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 461

“Yes, brother mine, that was the maiden—Mistress Maud
Wilford. A very treasure, methinks, of gentle womanhood ;
an English maiden by descent, albeit born in these lands ;
not noble as the world has it, but with the true nobility of
soul which we learn how to prize in our hours of sorrow
and pain and captivity. Brother, wilt thou give me thy
blessing and good-will in this thing ?”

Rodrigo a few hours before might have shrunk in pain
from the thought of seeing his brother mated with any one
not his equal by birth; for the inherent Spanish pride was
strong in its young nobility, and both brothers had natu-
rally inherited it. But when a man is quickly leaving
a world where such distinctions exist for another where
rank is differently meted, these differences fade at once
into strange insignificance ; and his reply was spoken with
a smile strangely luminous and bright.

“My blessing? Ay, that will I give thee with all my
heart, and trust that the happiness thou meritest may be
thine, my brother. Methinks I am well pleased that the
strife of battle and the stir of the camp will no longer be
thine, nor such a death as this, albeit to die with thy
hand in mine and thy voice in mine ear is happiness I
looked not to know. Thou wilt be far happier with wife
and babes around thee; and in another land where peace
reigns thou wilt find happiness greater than thou ever didst
in the martial scenes in which we have lived so long. Thou
wert never made for a soldier, brother; a student, a man
of books and of peace—that is what thou art by nature.
I am happy in leaving thee thus; and when I am gone
462 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

thou wilt have all, and wilt be a prosperous man wherever
thou mayest choose to dwell. I would fain see again the
sweet maiden whom thou hast chosen. Is your troth
plighted yet ?”

“Nay; I have spoken no word to her as yet. A pris-
oner as I am, how might I dare to think of it? And
yet methinks she knows, and I trust she wil! learn in some
sort to return the love I bear her. I will ask her to
come hither once again; I know she will gladly do so.”

All this talk had not taken place quickly and un-
interruptedly as given here, but by degrees and in short
phrases, as Rodrigo could find breath to speak. Maud had
been nigh upon an hour from the room, when she hastened
back at Alphonso’s request, and then she saw that the end
could not be far off. She would have called for help, but
Alphonso restrained her, and said softly,—

“My brother would fain speak a word to you, sweet
Mistress Maud;” and in a vague wonderment she went
forward and bent over him.

“Sefior, can I do aught for you?” she asked gently;
and his eyes opened and met hers with a glance that
thrilled her strangely. He made a slight effort to take
her hand, and she quickly put her soft fingers into it.

“IT want to thank you—for all—for him,” and his
eyes sought his brother’s face for a moment. “I have
heard all. I am grateful. I would that it might be so
always—that I might leave him—to thee.”

That was all; there was no strength or breath for
more. The dark eyes closed, and a little shiver ran
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 463

through the prostrate frame. Alphonso led Maud away,
his face pale and grave. He knew that he had no longer
a kinsman left in the world.

But Antwerp was all en féte. Garlands decked the
streets, flags waved, joy-bells clanged and crashed; and in
the town-hall a wonderful banquet was being spread to do
honour to Hohenlo and this glorious victory. All the city
thronged to see the hero walk into the hall, clad in white
velvet, his floating locks perfumed, his jewelled sword by
his side, his plumed hat carried in his hand because the
ceaseless roar of applause gave him no chance of placing
it upon his head. Bowing his graceful acknowledgments
of this publie triumph, Hohenlo walked up and took his
place at the head of the longest table. All the beauty and
rank of Antwerp had assembled there to-night; whilst out-
side in the streets blazing bonfires and a ceaseless clamour
of delight testified that the populace was abroad and en-
joying a revel of a different kind.

The banquet sped merrily on its way; delicate viands
(one wonders how in such times as these they had been
procured) and choice wines were circulating in that goodly
company; Hohenlo, with sparkling eyes and brimming
goblet, was returning the compliments showered upon him,
and toasting in turn the gallant soldiers they had left
upon the dike (ah, why had they so left them — they
the generals in charge?), when the hubbub and tumult
without began in some subtle way to change its char-
acter. First there was a sudden hush, so strange that,
although the outside noise had scarcely been noticed, its
464 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

cessation caused a corresponding silence within the great
hall.

A noble dame, who had just before been speaking
of a weight upon her heart, and wishing they had had
further news of the men upon the dike, now turned pale,
and whispered to her companion that she had feared this
triumph of to-day would be followed by gloom to-morrow,
when a roar that was no longer of triumph, but of rage,
of horror, of dismay, broke upon the listening ears within
that decked and lighted hall; and the roar increased in
volume, as a wave increases when it rushes foaming upon
the shore, till the very foundations of the place seemed to
shake, and the affrighted guests rose to their feet, their
eyes fixed wide in terror upon the great doors at the end
of the long room.

They had not to wait long. With a crash and a bang
these doors burst open, and into the hall there streamed a
strange multitude, their faces pale, their eyes gleaming
with ferocity, their breath coming in short, sharp gasps
that debarred them for the moment from articulate speech.
The cause of this breathlessness was soon understood.
They were carrying with them helpless burdens—ghastly
human burdens—men who had been that day instinct
with life and vigour, and were now carried back to their
homes to die, hacked some of them almost out of the
semblance of humanity, fearfully maimed and injured all,
some passive and unconscious, others able to moan out
the terrible words taken up and screamed and hissed and
hooted by the furious throng without,—
AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET. 465

“Lost, lost! all lost! We held the dike for three
hours. We made three great breaches there. But our
leaders deserted us. The Spaniards came in redoubled
force with Parma at their head. They attacked us with
fearful force. We had none to look to, none to lead us.
We fought to the last; hundreds and thousands of corpses
were left there to show that we did our best. But it was
too much. We were deserted by those who should have
been with us. The sea at last deserted us, and took our
vessels from us. We could do no more. Already the Prince
is repairing our breaches with the dead bodies of our com-
rades, and with the materials brought to build our own
intrenchment upon the dike. All is lost! all is lost!
Antwerp must now be left to her fate!”

That was the story whispered by those white, stiffening
lips—a bit from one and a bit from another; that was the
story taken up and yelled in its thousand different versions
by a thousand furious citizens.

Betrayed again—lost by another blunder so gigantic,
as it appeared now, that those who heard the tale could
scarce credit their senses! And in that banqueting-hall
—that banquet so strangely interrupted by the influx of
these ghastly guests, laid down upon the floor to die—what
effect did it have there? What said the dashing Count,
who had been bowing his acknowledgments and receiving
the plaudits of all Antwerp for all these triumphant hours ?

With a face suddenly grown white with horror, Hohenlo
sprang from his seat and made a dash towards the door,

but recoiled as he saw what was being brought in. Stand-
(444) 30
466 AN INTERRUPTED BANQUET.

ing with wide-open lips and blank, terror-filled eyes, he
remained for one long minute rooted to the spot.

But the deep curses of those who were bearing in their
ghastly burden, and the frantic yelling of the crowd with-
out, speedily awoke him from his trance; and with a wild
ery that rose even above the din and tumult around, he
put his hands before his face and fled from the hall by a
side door in very terror of his life.

He might well fear. All Antwerp was beside itself ;
and he, the darling and the idol of the morning, had to-
night to fly for his life from the fury of the people, and
hide himself where he could till the storm had overpassed
and had spent itself.

1?

“Saved! saved! saved!” had been the joyous triumphal
shout of the morning; by night a deeper gloom than ever
had settled upon the devoted city, and its white-faced
burghers went about looking in each other’s eyes as though
afraid what they might read there.

“Lost! all lost! Antwerp is lost!” was the ery of the
furious mob, as it surged through the streets and squares,
and set the bells tolling which had been clamouring out
their joy before.

All lost! and all through another of those fatal blunders
which had been from the beginning the bane of that hap-
less city.’

O Antwerp, Antwerp, Antwerp! always doomed to fail-
ure; victory ever snatched away in the moment of tri-
umph! What a history hast thou had, and what lessons
_ may be learned from thee when thy story comes to be read!
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE DEATH OF HOPE.

AMENTATION and mourning and woe!

Well indeed did these words apply to the city of
Antwerp after that last and most crushing defeat upon
the great dike. All heart and hope now seemed to have
deserted the soldiers and the citizens. Diminished numbers
rendered any further aggressive policy out of their power ;
hopelessness had taken the place of confidence; distrust of
their leaders and a sullen, brooding wrath settled down
in the hearts of all. Famine was slowly but surely ap-
proaching, and would soon be stalking in their streets;
whilst the belief in possible rescue of their city out of the
iron hand of Parma had died away, not to awaken again.

“We are betrayed! we are undone! we are lost!” such
were the words to be heard upon the lips of all. The
extravagant height to which the people’s hopes had arisen, ©
and their absolute certainty for a few mad hours that
Antwerp was saved, only threw the city later into the
deeper gloom. Already there were ugly mutterings in the
air. Bands of wild-eyed men, who had begun to feel
something of the pinch of want, would prowl about the
468 THE DEATH OF HOPE.

city by day and night, muttering savage threats. If the
Burgomaster showed himself abroad, as he fearlessly did
whenever duty called him, he was received with hisses
and hootings, and was sometimes almost mobbed by the
angry citizens. They began to raise shouts for “ Bread,
bread, bread!” and although capitulation had not openly
been spoken of, there were hundreds in the city already
longing for it, and it was known that some sort of nego-
tiation was being opened already with the triumphant
Prince of Parma.

Had it been a time when minor vexations could have
greatly touched the people, the fate of their monster ves-
sel, so grandiloquently called the War's Hnd, might have
aroused their indignation and shame.

The laughing-stock of Gianibelli and a few wiser spirits,
this gigantic ship had been the darling and the hope of
hundreds and thousands in the city, and the vast amount
of money expended upon her would have victualled Ant-
werp for months.

This monster vessel was a marvel of strength and size,
having bulwarks ten feet thick, musket-proof roofs to her
decks, four masts, three helms, and tiers upon tiers of
artillery. She could accommodate a thousand men within
“her floating walls; and as she was supported in an in-
genious fashion upon barrels and corks, she could not sink,
even though her sides should be pierced. Those who had
watched her slow construction went away boasting of the
great things she would accomplish when all was ready ;
but, alas! the Bugaboo, as the Spaniards irreverently
THE DEATH OF HOPE. 469

christened her, proved only another of the gigantic blunders
for which the siege of Antwerp is famous.

She had been started forth from the city shortly before
the projected attack on the Kowenstyn, with the hope
that she would render signal and effective service in that
important struggle ; but when once in the water, it quickly
appeared that this great floating fortress would neither
sail nor steer. She was perfectly unmanageable, and
drifted helplessly about till she ran on some shoals, and
had to be deserted lest she should contrive to heel over
with her thousand men.

A day or two after the struggle on the dike, the Span-
iards came out and took possession of her, none having
heart to try to prevent them, and after some trouble
succeeded in bringing her in safety to the Prince of Parma.
After being well examined and ridiculed, she was finally
broken up by her captors, whilst her guns and ammunition
proved a welcome addition to their scanty stores.

But even this news could hardly stir up the hearts of
the burghers to more than a passing sense of shame and
anger. They were so utterly cast down and despairing
that one more drop in the cup mattered but little.

“Tf they had but listened to me! if they had but
listened to me!” cried Gianibelli, as he brought this last
item of news to his friends in Hooch Straet at the close of
the long summer’s day. It was barely June yet, but an
unwonted heat had set in over the land. It was a merci-
ful thing for those houses where food was scarce, for the
heat and the general depression did not tend to hunger.
470 THE DEATH OF HOPE.

In Hooch Straet, however, there was no pinch of want.
Roosje’s careful preparations, and the diminishing of the
large party, had alike helped to eke out supplies in a way
that was the envy of many less provident households.
They had enough and to spare, and could afford to be gen-
erous to poorer neighbours ; but just now a heavier weight
than that of mere scarcity was weighing them down.
Van der Hammer and his wife sat hand in hand in the
long room, bowed down by grief for the loss of their two
brave boys; whilst young Maurice, looking very white
and wan, lay stretched upon a couch hard by, with his
wounded arm in a sling, Coosje sitting beside him to
fan him and keep off the flies; and whilst she was thus
occupied the tears would steal down her cheeks, and she
would be forced to pause to wipe them away before she
could continue her little offices.

Above in an upper chamber lay Lionel, sedulously
tended by his wife. He had been sorely wounded; but
no vital part was touched, as all the doctors agreed, al-
though the long, exhausting strain he had put upon him-
self after receiving these hurts rendered them more severe
than they would otherwise have been. He had scarcely
opened his eyes or his lips since having been brought
home on that fatal evening. Weariness of body and mind
and despair of spirit alike pressed him down, and the
only sign of consciousness he showed was that he was
restless when his wife was not beside him.

Malcolm was the only one who had returned sound in
body from the fight, and how he had escaped wounds was
THE DEATH OF HOPE. 471

a marvel, since he had been again and again in the thickest
of the conflict. He was almost ashamed of this immunity ;
but those about him were thankful to have one of their
party sound and whole. Again and again was he called
upon to tell the story of that gallant fight and stubborn
struggle, and never did he tell it without a throb of pain
and anger as he remembered how the soldiers had been
left with the victory still insecure and the hottest of the
struggle yet to come.

Alphonso was keenly interested in the tale from first
to last, and especially in the part that related to his own
brother and to the other Spanish officer who had come
to the aid of the fugitives when the fight was really at
an end.

“It was Carlos de Cueva, thou sayest? I am well
pleased to hear that. JI knew he was on the side of mercy
and pity when he would let his true nature be seen. Thou
hadst seen him before, hadst thou not, Malcolm, when thou
wert carried into the Spanish camp as prisoner? Didst
thou not know him again ?”

“Not till he told me his name. We were both too
bloody and battered and bewildered by the tumult to have
thought for aught else. I had my head-piece yet on, and
he could not see my face; and though I did see his,
and it seemed in some sort familiar, I had no time or
thought to spare for cudgelling my memory. It was not
till I asked his name, and he answered me so courteously,
that I recollected who he was or that I had seen him
before.”
472 THE DEATH OF HOPE.

Alphonso shared in the general mourning and depression
that had fallen on the-city. Although it was now prob-
able that the capitulation of Antwerp would restore him
to liberty, the death of his brother had been a heavy blow;
and the thought of his own uncertain future sometimes
lay like a heavy cloud upon him. It was not altogether
easy to make up his mind to perpetual exile in a foreign
land. There were moments when he asked himself whether
all these new dreams and feelings were not part of some
long vision or delusion, and whether he should not wake
up at the last to find himself the old Alphonso, a soldier
of the Spanish king, and a true son of the Romish Church,
as he had always been without doubt or qualm until he
had been seized with a vehement curiosity to understand
the feelings of these citizens of Antwerp.

But these doubts never arose save when he was separated
from Maud, and in her presence they vanished like vapour-
wreaths before a summer sun. When she was speaking to
him of their future plans, and of that flight to England
for which already full preparations were being made, he
knew that where she went he must go also; that no country
could be home for him where she was not; and that there
could be no retracing of the steps he had taken, no return-
ing to those old blind beliefs he had once held, and which
would be absolutely required of him should he put himself
again into the hands of his former spiritual advisers.

No words of love had passed his lips as yet, but all his
own small scruples of pride had broken down at once and
for ever. He only waited now till as a free man he could
THE DEATH OF HOPE. 473

ask her at her brother’s or her father’s hand. He had
none to take umbrage at his alliance with the more humbly-
born maiden; he was about to cut adrift from his old
moorings and launch himself upon a new existence. There
were times when the very thought of this change sent
quick thrills of joy through all his pulses. There had been
much to revolt him with the life of the last few years, and
with the constant warfare against religious liberty to which
the Spanish king had pledged himself. When he seriously
considered whether he could himself engage again in such
a warfare, he knew that he could not; and everything
he heard of life in peaceful England attracted him more
and more.

Preparations for departure from the Provinces so soon
as the siege should be at an end were being carried actively
forward by the Van der Hammers, in spite of public dis-
aster and private loss. One of the many trading-sloops
which belonged to the merchants Wilford and Van der
Hammer had been some time within the city, having put
in for repairs just before the commencement of the siege,
and used from time to time by the city authorities when
pressed for transport-boats or other vessels in time of
activity. But all such pressure was now at an end, and
for some time the sloop had been lying idle in its little
basin near to the warehouses where the merchants had
been wont to store their goods; and steady preparations
were now going forward to fit it up and store away in it
such heir-looms and valuables as the family were anxious to
take away with them to their new home across the water.
474 THE DEATH OF HOPE.

This packing up and making ready had been a great:
resource to all concerned. The heavy pieces of furniture
in the old house had perforce to be left behind; but it was
wonderful what a little dexterity and management would
do in getting many impracticable but much-prized treasures
taken to pieces and stowed away in the little vessel. And
for once in his life the ingenious mechanician Gianibelli
had shown himself in a new light, and had bent his versa-
tile mind to the task of assisting in the removal of these
household gods, and seeing them safely placed on board the
Seagull, as the light little sloop was called. Great chests
of linen, all the precious glass and china and silver, dear
to the heart of the Dutch housevrow, were gradually
packed and stowed in the hold of the little vessel. The
house in Hooch Straet began to look bare and desolate ;
but it was not a desolation which struck chill upon the
hearts of the inmates, for it spoke rather of coming free-
dom, and of the new home whither their hearts and hopes
were tending. Their talk now was all of England, and
they would press round Lionel to ask him all he could re-
member of the country he had left whilst still a boy.
Gianibelli, too, had visited that land, and spoke of it with
a shade less of contempt than he did of some others. He
would not consent to make one of the party thither. His
mind was still bent upon travelling in the East, and in-
creasing there his stock of strange lore which brought him
little but ridicule and contempt. Still he was glad enough
to let his daughter go. He no longer wanted her with
him ; and he had never swerved from the promise made to
THE DEATH OF HOPE. 475

Malcolm, that if he but brought him news of the breach
made by his fire-ships in Parma’s bridge, he would give
him Veronica’s hand in marriage.

That promise was about to be fulfilled now. They had
waited in the hope that Antwerp would be free at last, and
that under happier auspices the nuptials might be cele-
brated ; but that hope was now at an end, and on the very
evening that Gianibelli brought in the news of the fate of
the great War’s End, Malcolm boldly asked why he and
Veronica might not be made man and wife forthwith.

“For why should we wait?” he questioned. “We know
not what a day may bring forth. Already messengers are
passing to and fro betwixt the city and the Spanish camp,
and at any time we might hear that terms of capitulation
were agreed upon. Then we should be all for instant de-
parture so soon as the bridge were destroyed, and there
would scarce be time to hurry through the marriage. Why
not make all sure now? Veronica is ready, and in sooth
soamTI. This house is large, and needs more faces to fill
it; and provision is running short with you, whilst here
we have plenty. Let us be wed with all speed, and then
thou and she can alike come hither to be with us to the
end. When our little sloop goes forth from this doomed
city, it can carry thee to the coast, where thou canst make
thine own agreement for transport to the distant East.
Thy preparations, like ours, are all made. What hinders
us from espousing each other and living in one household
until we may make our escape from Antwerp ?”

Gianibelli had nothing to urge against this view of the
476 THE DEATH OF HOPE.

matter. He was willing, and Veronica more than willing,
to leave her dismal and dismantled home to come to this
one with Malcolm. All looked upon her now as a sister,
and since there had come so many gaps in the circle of
faces around that board, it was felt that this addition to
their party would be doubly welcome.

It was no time for rejoicings or festivity. Lionel had
recovered consciousness by this time, and when Malcolm
came to his bedside and in a low voice detailed this pro-
ject to him, he gave it his full sanction and approval. But
in face of all the calamities at home and abroad there
could be no open rejoicings, and the thing was very quietly
done; Veronica at last openly declaring that she would be
married according to the simple rites of the reformed faith,
to which at heart she had long been a convert, and to
which she now declared herself prepared to adhere openly,
whatever might be the peril of so doing.

Gianibelli shrugged his shoulders, but made no remon-
strance. Possibly he had learned by this time that re-
sistance in matters of this sort was of very little avail, and
that it was small use erecting barriers of sand against an
incoming tide. The wave of public opinion sweeping over
the land was one far too strong to be stemmed by all the
legions of Spain; was it likely his words would prevail
against it, if it had caught his daughter upon its mighty
crest ?

Nor was Gianibelli a man to trouble himself much about
matters of creed. One religion was to him very much like
another. He was far less devout than was usual with men
THE DEATH OF HOPE. 477

of almost all classes at that day; and if his daughter
chose to adopt her husband’s faith, he was not going to
oppose her. Perhaps in his heart of hearts he thought she
did well. To be at variance on such points is seldom a
happy thing in married life. In England she was safer
as a Protestant than as a Romanist, as things were now ;
and to England she would certainly go so soon as the iron
hand of the Spanish general was taken from the city.

But there was one surprise in store for Malcolm with
regard to his bride. He had certainly never thought of
asking for any dowry with Veronica, and she had been
distressed at coming to him without that portion and even
without that outfit which a Dutch or Flemish maiden
would almost for certain have possessed in like case.
Malcolm would not listen to her words of regret, telling her
that he wanted nothing but her heart and her hand; and
that when once free of the luckless city and land, he and
his family would again be wealthy and prosperous; also
that he was to have a share in the mercantile business,
and should be quickly a thriving man. So she did not let
this lack of gold weigh upon her spirits, and the happi-
ness of feeling herself at last made Malcolm’s wife was
too great to permit the interposition of any unwelconie
thoughts ; still she did regret that she came to him so
portionless and dowerless, and it was as great an astonish-
ment to her as to her young husband when her father
sprang upon them his surprise.

They were sitting at supper, and Roosje had contrived
to give something of a festal air to the board; for although
478 THE DEATH OF HOPE.

the wedding had been perfectly quiet, she desired that
Veronica should feel she had as hearty a welcome into her
husband’s family as it was possible to give. There were
flowers upon the table—some that Coosje had contrived to
get hold of; and a cake had been made by Roosje’s clever
hands, and some trifling dainties by Maud’s. Alphonso, too,
had sold a jewel—almost the only personal possession he
owned—in order to make a present to the bride; and alto-
gether the household had managed to cheer up and to put
on an air of festivity that was a relief from the gloom
without. Gianibelli had moved his few effects from his
dark little house hard by to the more cheerful abode in
Hooch Straet; and amongst these effects was a strongly-
bound box of some heavy wood, with great brass locks and
clasps. This box was one which Veronica had never seen
before, but which she imagined to contain some of his
precious books, or some machine or invention which he de-
sired to hide from all possibility of prying eyes.

This very heavy box had been transported with some
difficulty from one house to the other, and now when they
were all assembled at supper together, they saw that it was’
standing at one end of the long table which the present
party was unable to fill. Several of the circle eyed it
from time to time with curious glances, and at last Coosje
put into words the question which had suggested itself to
them all.

“Master Gianibelli, what may be in yonder coffer, and
wherefore stands it there ?”

“Tt is the dowry of my daughter Veronica,” answered the
THE DEATH OF HOPE, 479

old Italian, with a sudden flashing look across the table at
Malcolm, “and I have brought it hither to put it under the
charge of her husband.” He paused a moment, searching
in his pockets, and at last he drew out a key which he
handed ceremoniously to Malcolm.

“That will open the coffer when you are disposed to
examine its contents,” he remarked brusquely. “You have
got all my treasure now. It is the way of the world.
The young have all the good, and the old are robbed even
of what they had. I complain not. It is the way of the
world, the way of this life. Take what you can get, boy,
and make the most of it whilst youth lasts. When you
grow to be an old man you will find yourself stripped of
everything, and left to die alone.”

Veronica had gone round and put her arms about her
father’s neck. Although she knew that his bitter speeches
were made more from force of habit than because he meant
much by them, it pained her to hear him speak so.

“Father, dear father, if you would only come with us;
if you would only not go where you must be alone!”

“ Pooh, child; I am best alone. I must see these strange
lands, and learn the secrets they hold. I want nothing
else. I have no need of company; I am best alone. I
could not take thee, and I would not have any other. Go
to; thou hast thy husband. Be a good wife and be happy.
Perchance in days to come I will find my way to thy
hearth yet, and hear thy children call me grandsire; but
not yet, not yet! I have more, much more to learn ere
that day of rest may come. Go thy way, child, and heed
480 THE DEATH OF HOPE.

not me. I have a life to live tnat thou couldst never
share.” -

Across the table the elder Van der Hammer was speak-
ing in his slow and ponderous fashion.

“ My good friend, believe me that age does not rob us of
all, if we have lived our life to good purpose. We need
not be alone, we need not be deserted. It is with us then
as with all other matters in this world—we do but reap
what we have sown. If we have a poor and sorrowful
harvest to look upon, it is because our sowing-time was
wasted. If we are deserted by friends, it is because we
have not deserved their love. If our children leave us—”

But the speaker paused in the midst of his rounded
periods, because he saw that nobody was heeding him,
nobody was listening to the moral he was striving to point.
Malcolm had gone round to the coffer, and was undoing its
ingenious fastenings by means of the key, and all the rest
were pressing round him to see what this strange box
should contain when its lid was raised.

As for Malcolm himself, although his curiosity was ex-
cited, he did not expect anything of much practical value.
He imagined this heavy case to contain some model dear
to the heart of the inventor, and a contrivance that might
possibly be worth a fortune to the man who could let its
value be seen and known. But more than this he had not
looked for, and he did not suppose he should find much use
for the golden secret. What, therefore, was his surprise
on raising the lid to see that the box was filled with gold
and silver ornaments, with rolls of golden coins, and with
THE DEATH OF HOPE. 481

sparkling gems, some of which he could see must be of
considerable value.

A cry of astonishment burst from all present. Van der
Hammer himself rose from the table and came round to
look. He lifted out a necklace of costly workmanship and
examined it carefully; then turning an inquiring glance
upon the Italian, who sat very still and quiet, a slight
smile hovering round the corners of his thin lips, he asked
how he had come by such treasures, and how he had con-
trived thus to preserve them. _

With a slight shrug of the shoulders Gianibelli an-
swered,—

“They have come to me from here, from there, from all
over. I have all my life been a wanderer. I have been
feasted by princes sometimes, and sometimes flouted and
scorned. I have had my ups and my downs; I have had
my enemies and my friends. But I have taken toll some-
times from the great ones of the earth, and I have sold
them secrets now and again, for which they have had a
heavy price to pay. Ah, and the women too! they have
bought secrets from Gianibelli, and have paid for them
with trinkets such as these you are handling at this
moment, good sir. And of what use were such baubles to
‘me? What was I to do with them? Perchance if I tried
to sell them I should be haled off to prison as a thief—
there were always plenty to bear witness against the
wizard, and to vow that he filched away by magic what
he could get by none other means. No; I knew better

than that. I had my treasure-chest, and there I deposited
(444) 31
482 IHE DEATH OF HOPE.

my wages. ‘Some day they will be useful, I would say
to myself; and when I had a daughter to think for, I
would lay them aside with the greater zest, and say to
myself as I did so, ‘This shall be thy dowry, my child’
Of late I have had but little of this world’s goods to set
aside, but I never drew upon the hoard that lay there,
together with some gold and valuables that came to me
with thy mother, Veronica. Now it is all thine. Thy
husband thought to wed thee without dowry, and I was
glad he should seem so to do, for thus I knew his heart
was stanch.—But now, honest lad, thou canst take this
and do with it as thou wilt. When the day comes for
finding a home across the water for thyself and for her, I
trow some of yon rolls will not come amiss.”

Without another word, bad or good, Gianibelli pushed
back his chair and walked from the room. He was less at
home in scenes of pleasure and domestic peace than in his
own den with his books and instruments about him; and
he seemed happier when indulging in mocking vituperation
than when the softer mood was upon him. Still, it was
these glimpses he gave from time to time of another nature
beneath the fiery crust ever ready to burst into flame that
explained to others the devotion with which his daughter
had always regarded him. She knew that in spite of his
harsh tongue and gloomy ways he did love her truly; and
this proof of his love in such solid form not only astonished
her, but took the breath from all beholders.

“And so often he has wanted money sorely!” whis-
pered Veronica, with tears in her eyes. “I know it has
THE DEATH OF HOPE. 483

happened times and again that he has been in a sore strait
for a few gold pieces, that he might improve or complete
some discovery. He has denied himself almost the neces-
saries of life to get what he thought needful for it, and all
the while he had all this!”

“Truly it must have been a strong love that kept his
hands from such a treasure in the time of need,” remarked
Van der Hammer, with a thoughtful air. “Methinks we
must something have misjudged yon good friend of ours
in calling him hard and unfeeling. His heart is none so
different from the rest of us, albeit he would scarce thank
us for saying as much of him.”

Veronica looked up at Malcolm with a clear brightness
in her eyes.

“T am glad for thy sake, dear love, that I come not to
thee empty-handed ; but for myself I care little. I have
thy love, and that is all I ever asked.”

“And thine all that I desire,” answered Malcolm fer-
vently. “As for these gay baubles, they have their use; —
but methinks we will get thy good father to take the half
of them for his own use when he journeys abroad into
foreign lands. The other half will be more than enough
for us; and we shall be happier knowing that he starts
forth with gold in his purse.”

“Oh yes,” cried Veronica quickly; “we will divide it
with him. We shall have so few wants when we reach
England and settle down in a land of peace and plenty.
Ah, would the days had come when this dreadful siege
should be at an end!”
CHAPTER XXIV.
CONCLUSION.

BLAZING day in August—the sun shining in a
A cloudless sky, the waters of the wide Scheldt re-
flecting back the hot sunlight, whilst all its myriad waves
seemed laughing and rejoicing.

An air of rejoicing seemed also to hang about the city.
It wore an aspect that suggested recent festivity and
merry-making, and indeed upon the faces of nine-tenths
of the inhabitants remaining there satisfaction and con-
tentment was the prevailing expression. And yet Antwerp
was a conquered city; she had capitulated at last to the
great commander who had so long been holding her shut
in in an iron grasp, and the joyful aspect the place wore
might have perplexed any onlooker unacquainted with
the curious history of that most curious siege.

How the burghers, who had been resolved never, never
to give way; never to yield up their liberties or their lives
to the Spanish tyrant; never to submit to the condi-
tions he invariably laid upon all those places which re-
turned, either by force or guile, beneath his sway—how it
came that these men now welcomed the conquering Prince
CONCLUSION. 485

of Parma within their walls with every demonstration of
joy, and made the day of capitulation a day of public
rejoicing and thanksgiving, is one of those mysteries which
perplex the reader of history even yet. That Parma had
done much by his courtesy and patience, and by his real
desire to be as gentle towards the people as lay in his
power, to win their confidence and even their affection,
cannot be denied; and his personal fascination had also
made an immense impression upon the Burgomaster, who
had had private as well as public conferences with him
during the weeks that elapsed between the final downfall
of hope and the day when the city formally capitulated.
Nevertheless, since neither religious toleration nor an im-
munity from a Spanish garrison (the two points upon
which the city magistrates had declared they would stand
out for ever) had been conceded, and as already all the
“heretics »—which meant the wealthiest and most import-
ant citizens—were leaving it as fast as they could, and to
sagacious eyes the doom of the city was already spoken,
it was hard to see where the rejoicing came in. But the
inconsistencies of mankind are past reasoning about; and
at least it was something to escape the horrors of famine,
and those far worse horrors of rapine and savage ferocity
which had so often disgraced the annals of the Spanish
victories, and had rendered the very moueny of capitula-
tion a terror to so many.

Not a trace of any such savage scenes had here been
witnessed. On the contrary, all had been harmony and
good-will—the soldiers who once had met in mortal combat
486 CONCLUSION.

now drinking and feasting amicably together, all the long-
standing bitterness laid aside for a time, and nothing
thought of but merry-making and rejoicing.

Three or four days had thus been passed; and now
upon one of the quays, just as the sun began to sink in
the sky, a little crowd had assembled about a white-sailed
sloop which from her aspect was evidently about to put
to sea with all her freight and passengers.

Some of these passengers were already upon deck: a
thin-faced man of noble aspect, leaning on the arm of his
wife, whilst some children clustered about them; and an
older couple, who sat hand in hand a little apart, as
though they had had enough of farewells for one day.

Upon the quay there was a group of some dozen
younger persons of both sexes, and much eager talk was
passing between them, though they knew the time for
farewells had actually come.

“Thy mind is made up, Alphonso?” questioned a very
knightly-looking man, in the garb of a Spanish gentleman.
“Thou wilt not think again of Spain, and of the old free
life of the camp ?”

Alphonso shook his head.

“Nay, Carlos: I have gone too far to draw back even
did I wish ; and, to speak the truth, I have no such desire.
I am out of harness—I misdoubt me that I shall ever be
a soldier again; and as for the life which might await me
in the old home, alone and without my brother, I would
not have it at any price. No, no; I have my own
thoughts, my own plans, for the future, brighter than any
CONCLUSION. 487

thou canst tempt me with. I am glad I have seen thee
again, good comrade—glad that thine will be one of the
last faces I shall see in quitting this land for ever. But
England will be a happier and a safer place for me now,
and I have few regrets for the life I leave behind.”

“ Well, well, thou knowest best, and perchance thou art
right. I would not have thee do other than as thy heart
prompts. I will see as soon as may be to the sale of thy
estate, and will forward the money to thee by a safe hand.
I must shortly to Spain to look to mine own affairs, which
are something in confusion after the large advances I have
made to his Majesty. I will see quickly to thine also, and
thou shalt find thyself a wealthy man. And now, since
thou must go, farewell, and the Holy Saints bless and keep
thee! We have lost a good comrade in thee, Alphonso,
and yet I have ever felt that thou wast scarcely in thy
place in the camp.”

“God bless and keep thee, Carlos!” answered Alphonso,
grasping his old comrade by the hand ; and then he turned
and met the eyes of Maud fastened upon him with some-
thing of wistfulness in their gaze, and a quick throb went
through his heart.

“Are you sorry to be leaving your own countrymen,
Sefior?” she asked gently, as he stepped to her side to
assist her to cross the plank which led to the deck of the
vessel; and he looked down into her eyes, and said in a
tone which only she could hear—

“Nay, sweet Maud; I am not sorry, because I go with
thee. Where thou dost dwell will in the days to come be
488 CONCLUSION.

home to me. I could not call any land home unless thy
face were there to bless it.”

A crimson blush rose in her face, but she made no
_ attempt to speak. It was the first word of open love he
had ever addressed to her, and it filled her with a strange
tumult of joy, and yet she had known for many a long
day now that she and Alphonso were all in all to one
another.

Diego was saying farewell to Coosje.

“Think of me sometimes,” he said, in his quick, abrupt
fashion, “for I shall think of- you, as I have often done.
I never thought to learn a lesson of honour from a heretic
and from a maid; but when I look at the agate heart I
have always worn since yo