Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch by H. Rider Haggard
CHAPTER XII
THE SUMMONS
"Wretched man!" said Lysbeth wringing her hands, and with a shuddershaking the dagger from her lap as though it had been a serpent, "youhave killed my son."
"Your pardon, mistress," replied Martin placidly; "but that is not so.The master ordered me to remove the Heer Adrian, whereon the Heer Adrianvery naturally tried to stab me. But I, having been accustomed to suchthings in my youth," and he looked deprecatingly towards the PastorArentz, "struck the Heer Adrian upon the bone of his elbow, causing theknife to jump from his hand, for had I not done so I should have beendead and unable to execute the commands of my master. Then I took theHeer Adrian by the shoulder, gently as I might, and walked away withhim, whereupon he died of rage, for which I am very sorry but not toblame."
"You are right, man," said Lysbeth, "it is you who are to blame, Dirk;yes, you have murdered my son. Oh! never mind what he said, his temperwas always fierce, and who pays any heed to the talk of a man in a madpassion?"
"Why did you let your brother be thus treated, cousin Foy?" broke inElsa quivering with indignation. "It was cowardly of you to stand stilland see that great red creature crush the life out of him when you knowwell that it was because of your taunts that he lost his temper and saidthings that he did not mean, as I do myself sometimes. No, I willnever speak to you again--and only this afternoon he saved me from therobbers!" and she burst into weeping.
"Peace, peace! this is no time for angry words," said the Pastor Arentz,pushing his way through the group of bewildered men and overwroughtwomen. "He can scarcely be dead; let me look at him, I am something ofa doctor," and he knelt by the senseless and bleeding Adrian to examinehim.
"Take comfort, Vrouw van Goorl," he said presently, "your son is notdead, for his heart beats, nor has his friend Martin injured him in anyway by the exercise of his strength, but I think that in his fury he hasburst a blood-vessel, for he bleeds fast. My counsel is that he shouldbe put to bed and his head cooled with cold water till the surgeon canbe fetched to treat him. Lift him in your arms, Martin."
So Martin carried Adrian, not to the street, but to his bed, while Foy,glad of an excuse to escape the undeserved reproaches of Elsa and thepainful sight of his mother's grief, went to seek the physician. In duecourse he returned with him, and, to the great relief of all of them,the learned man announced that, notwithstanding the blood which he hadlost, he did not think that Adrian would die, though, at the best, hemust keep his bed for some weeks, have skilful nursing and be humouredin all things.
While his wife Lysbeth and Elsa were attending to Adrian, Dirk and hisson, Foy, for the Pastor Arentz had gone, sat upstairs talking in thesitting-room, that same balconied chamber in which once Dirk had beenrefused while Montalvo hid behind the curtain. Dirk was much disturbed,for when his wrath had passed he was a tender-hearted man, and hisstepson's plight distressed him greatly. Now he was justifying himselfto Foy, or, rather, to his own conscience.
"A man who could speak so of his own mother, was not fit to stop in thesame house with her," he said; "moreover, you heard his words about thepastor. I tell you, son, I am afraid of this Adrian."
"Unless that bleeding from his mouth stops soon you will not have causeto fear him much longer," replied Foy sadly, "but if you want my opinionabout the business, father, why here it is--I think that you have madetoo much of a small matter. Adrian is--Adrian; he is not one of us, andhe should not be judged as though he were. You cannot imagine me flyinginto a fury because the women forgot to set my place at table, or tryingto stab Martin and bursting a blood vessel because you told him to leadme out of the room. No, I should know better, for what is the use of anyordinary man attempting to struggle against Martin? He might as well tryto argue with the Inquisition. But then I am I, and Adrian is Adrian."
"But the words he used, son. Remember the words."
"Yes, and if I had spoken them they would have meant a great deal, butin Adrian's mouth I think no more of them than if they came from someangry woman. Why, he is always sulking, or taking offence, or flyinginto rages over something or other, and when he is like that it allmeans--just nothing except that he wants to use fine talk and show offand play the Don over us. He did not really mean to lie to me when hesaid that I had not seen him talking to Black Meg, he only meant tocontradict, or perhaps to hide something up. As a matter of fact, if youwant to know the truth, I believe that the old witch took notes for himto some young lady, and that Hague Simon supplied him with rats for hishawks."
"Yes, Foy, that may be so, but how about his talk of the pastor? Itmakes me suspicious, son. You know the times we live in, and if heshould go that way--remember it is in his blood--the lives of every oneof us are in his hand. The father tried to burn me once, and I do notwish the child to finish the work."
"Then when they come out of his hand, you are at liberty to cut offmine," answered Foy hotly. "I have been brought up with Adrian, and Iknow what he is; he is vain and pompous, and every time he looks atyou and me he thanks God that he was not made like that. Also he hasfailings and vices, and he is lazy, being too fine a gentleman to worklike a common Flemish burgher, and all the rest of it. But, father, hehas a good heart, and if any man outside this house were to tell me thatAdrian is capable of playing the traitor and bringing his own family tothe scaffold, well, I would make him swallow his words, or try to, thatis all. As regards what he said about my mother's first marriage"--andFoy hung his head--"of course it is a subject on which I have no rightto talk, but, father, speaking as one man to another--he _is_ sadlyplaced and innocent, whatever others may have been, and I don't wonderthat he feels sore about the story."
As he spoke the door opened and Lysbeth entered.
"How goes it with Adrian, wife?" Dirk asked hastily.
"Better, husband, thank God, though the doctor stays with him for thisnight. He has lost much blood, and at the best must lie long abed; aboveall none must cross his mood or use him roughly," and she looked at herhusband with meaning.
"Peace, wife," Dirk answered with irritation. "Foy here has just readme one lecture upon my dealings with your son, and I am in no mood tolisten to another. I served the man as he deserved, neither less normore, and if he chose to go mad and vomit blood, why it is no fault ofmine. You should have brought him up to a soberer habit."
"Adrian is not as other men are, and ought not to be measured by thesame rule," said Lysbeth, almost repeating Foy's words.
"So I have been told before, wife, though I, who have but one standardof right and wrong, find the saying hard. But so be it. Doubtless therule for Adrian is that which should be used to measure angels--orSpaniards, and not one suited to us poor Hollanders who do our work, payour debts, and don't draw knives on unarmed men!"
"Have you read the letter from your cousin Brant?" asked Lysbeth,changing the subject.
"No," answered Dirk, "what with daggers, swoonings, and scoldings itslipped my mind," and drawing the paper from his tunic he cut the silkand broke the seals. "I had forgotten," he went on, looking at thesheets of words interspersed with meaningless figures; "it is in ourprivate cypher, as Elsa said, or at least most of it is. Get the keyfrom my desk, son, and let us set to work, for our task is likely to belong."
Foy obeyed, returning presently with an old Testament of a very scarceedition. With the help of this book and an added vocabulary by slowdegrees they deciphered the long epistle, Foy writing it down sentenceby sentence as they learned their significance. When at length the taskwas finished, which was not till well after midnight, Dirk read thetranslation aloud to Lysbeth and his son. It ran thus:
"Well-beloved cousin and old friend, you will be astonished to see mydear child Elsa, who brings you this paper sewn in her saddle, whereI trust none will seek it, and wonder why she comes to you withoutwarning. I will tell you.
"You know that here the axe and the stake are very busy, for at TheHague the devil walks loose; yes, he is the master in this land. Well,although the blow has not yet fallen on m
"See you, Dirk, the treasure is not here in the house as they think. Itis hidden, but in a spot where it cannot stay.
"Therefore, if you love me, and hold that I have been a good friendto you, send your son Foy with one other strong and trusted man--yourFrisian servant, Martin, if possible--on the morrow after you receivethis. When night falls he should have been in The Hague some hours, andhave refreshed himself, but let him not come near me or my house. Halfan hour after sunset let him, followed by his serving man, walk up anddown the right side of the Broad Street in The Hague, as though seekingadventures, till a girl, also followed by a servant, pushes up againsthim as if on purpose, and whispers in his ear, 'Are you from Leyden,sweetheart?' Then he must say 'Yes,' and accompany her till he comes toa place where he will learn what must be done and how to do it. Aboveall, he must follow no woman who may accost him and does not repeatthese words. The girl who addresses him will be short, dark, pretty, andgaily dressed, with a red bow upon her left shoulder. But let him not bemisled by look or dress unless she speaks the words.
"If he reaches England or Leyden safely with the stuff let him hide itfor the present, friend, till your heart tells you it is needed. I carenot where, nor do I wish to know, for if I knew, flesh and blood areweak, and I might give up the secret when they stretch me on the rack.
"Already you have my will sent to you three months ago, and enclosedin it a list of goods. Open it now and you will find that under it mypossessions pass to you and your heirs absolutely as my executors, forsuch especial trusts and purposes as are set out therein. Elsa hasbeen ailing, and it is known that the leech has ordered her a change.Therefore her journey to Leyden will excite no wonder, neither, or so Ihope, will even Ramiro guess that I should enclose a letter such as thisin so frail a casket. Still, there is danger, for spies are many, buthaving no choice, and my need being urgent, I must take the risks. Ifthe paper is seized they cannot read it, for they will never make outthe cypher, since, even did they know of them, no copies of our bookscan be found in Holland. Moreover, were this writing all plain Dutchor Spanish, it tells nothing of the whereabouts of the treasure, of itsdestination, or of the purpose to which it is dedicate. Lastly, shouldany Spaniard chance to find that wealth, it will vanish, and, mayhap, hewith it."
"What can he mean by that?" interrupted Foy.
"I know not," answered Dirk. "My cousin Brant is not a person who speaksat random, so perhaps we have misinterpreted the passage." Then he wenton reading:
"Now I have done with the pelf, which must take its chance. Only, I prayyou--I trust it to your honour and to your love of an old friend to buryit, burn it, cast it to the four winds of heaven before you suffer aSpaniard to touch a gem or a piece of gold.
"I send to you to-day Elsa, my only child. You will know my reason. Shewill be safer with you in Leyden than here at The Hague, since if theytake me they might take her also. The priests and their tools do notspare the young, especially if their rights stand between them andmoney. Also she knows little of my desperate strait; she is ignoranteven of the contents of this letter, and I do not wish that she shouldshare these troubles. I am a doomed man, and she loves me, poor child.One day she will hear that it is over, and that will be sad for her,but it would be worse if she knew all from the beginning. When I bid hergood-bye to-morrow, it will be for the last time--God give me strengthto bear the blow.
"You are her guardian, as you deal with her--nay, I must be crazy withmy troubles, for none other would think it needful to remind Dirk vanGoorl or his son of their duty to the dead. Farewell, friend and cousin.God guard you and yours in these dreadful times with which it haspleased Him to visit us for a season, that through us perhaps thiscountry and the whole world may be redeemed from priestcraft andtyranny. Greet your honoured wife, Lysbeth, from me; also your son Foy,who used to be a merry lad, and whom I hope to see again within a nightor two, although it may be fated that we shall not meet. My blessingon him, especially if he prove faithful in all these things. May theAlmighty who guards us give us a happy meeting in the hereafter which isat hand. Pray for me. Farewell, farewell.--Hendrik Brant.
"P.S. I beg the dame Lysbeth to see that Elsa wears woollen when theweather turns damp or cold, since her chest is somewhat delicate. Thiswas my wife's last charge, and I pass it on to you. As regards hermarriage, should she live, I leave that to your judgment with thiscommand only, that her inclination shall not be forced, beyond what isright and proper. When I am dead, kiss her for me, and tell her that Iloved her beyond any creature now living on the earth, and that whereverI am from day to day I wait to welcome her, as I shall wait to welcomeyou and yours, Dirk van Goorl. In case these presents miscarry, I willsend duplicates of them, also in mixed cypher, whenever chance mayoffer."