Book: Lysbeth

H >> H. Rider Haggard >> Lysbeth




"Foy," she gasped, "he is honest after all; he has only been
unfortunate. Come quickly, there is a chance for us; come before that
devil returns. Now he is at a council of the officers settling with Don
Frederic who are to be killed, but soon he will be back, and then----"

So they hesitated no more, but went.

They passed out of the house, none stopping them--the guard had gone to
the sack. At the gate by the ruined Ravelin there stood a sentry, but
the man was careless, or drunken, or bribed, who knows? At least, Adrian
gave him a pass-word, and, nodding his head, he let them by. A few
minutes later they were at the Mere side, and there among some reeds lay
the boat.

"Enter and be gone," said Adrian.

They scrambled into the boat and took the oars, while Martha began to
push off.

"Adrian," said Elsa, "what is to become of you?"

"Why do you trouble about that?" he asked with a bitter laugh. "I go
back to my death, my blood is the price of your freedom. Well, I owe it
to you."

"Oh! no," she cried, "come with us."

"Yes," echoed Foy, although again that bitter pang of jealousy gripped
his heart, "come with us--brother."

"Do you really mean it?" Adrian asked, hesitating. "Think, I might
betray you."

"If so, young man, why did you not do it before?" growled Martin, and
stretching out his great, bony arm he gripped him by the collar and
dragged him into the boat.

Then they rowed away.

"Where are we going?" asked Martin.

"To Leyden, I suppose," said Foy, "if we can get there, which, without a
sail or weapons, seems unlikely."

"I have put some arms in the boat," interrupted Adrian, "the best I
could get," and from a locker he drew out a common heavy axe, a couple
of Spanish swords, a knife, a smaller axe, a cross-bow and some bolts.

"Not so bad," said Martin, rowing with his left hand as he handled the
big axe with his right, "but I wish that I had my sword Silence, which
that accursed Ramiro took from me and hung about his neck. I wonder
why he troubled himself with the thing? It is too long for a man of his
inches."

"I don't know," said Adrian, "but when last I saw him he was working
at its hilt with a chisel, which seemed strange. He always wanted that
sword. During the siege he offered a large reward to any soldier who
could kill you and bring it to him."

"Working at the hilt with a chisel?" gasped Martin. "By Heaven, I had
forgotten! The map, the map! Some wicked villain must have told him that
the map of the treasure was there--that is why he wanted the sword."

"Who could have told him?" asked Foy. "It was only known to you and
me and Martha, and we are not of the sort to tell. What? Give away the
secret of Hendrik Brant's treasure which he could die for and we were
sworn to keep, to save our miserable lives? Shame upon the thought!"

Martha heard, and looked at Elsa, a questioning look beneath which the
poor girl turned a fiery red, though by good fortune in that light none
could see her blushes. Still, she must speak lest the suspicion should
lie on others.

"I ought to have told you before," she said in a low voice, "but I
forgot--I mean that I have always been so dreadfully ashamed. It was I
who betrayed the secret of the sword Silence."

"You? How did you know it?" asked Foy.

"Mother Martha told me on the night of the church burning after you
escaped from Leyden."

Martin grunted. "One woman to trust another, and at her age too; what a
fool!"

"Fool yourself, you thick-brained Frisian," broke in Martha angrily,
"where did you learn to teach your betters wisdom? I told the Jufvrouw
because I knew that we might all of us be swept away, and I thought it
well that then she should know where to look for a key to the treasure."

"A woman's kind of reason," answered Martin imperturbably, "and a bad
one at that, for if we had been finished off she must have found it
difficult to get hold of the sword. But all this is done with. The point
is, why did the Jufvrouw tell Ramiro?"

"Because I am a coward," answered Elsa with a sob. "You know, Foy, I
always was a coward, and I never shall be anything else. I told him to
save myself."

"From what?"

"From being married."

Adrian winced palpably, and Foy, noting it, could not resist pushing the
point.

"From being married? But I understand--doubtless Adrian will explain the
thing," he added grimly--"that you were forced through some ceremony."

"Yes," answered Elsa feebly, "I--I--was. I tried to buy myself off by
telling Ramiro the secret, which will show you all how mad I was with
terror at the thought of this hateful marriage"--here a groan burst
from the lips of Adrian, and something like a chuckle from those of Red
Martin. "Oh! I am so sorry," went on Elsa in confusion; "I am sure that
I did not wish to hurt Adrian's feelings, especially after he has been
so good to us."

"Never mind Adrian's feelings and his goodness, but go on with the
story," interrupted Foy.

"There isn't much more to tell. Ramiro swore before God that if I gave
him the clue he would let me go, and then--then, well, then, after I
had fallen into the pit and disgraced myself, he said that it was not
sufficient, and that the marriage must take place."

At this point Foy and Martin laughed outright. Yes, even there they
laughed.

"Why, you silly child," said Foy, "what else did you expect him to say?"

"Oh! Martin, do you forgive me?" said Elsa. "Immediately after I had
done it I knew how shameful it was, and that he would try to hunt you
down, and that is why I have been afraid to tell you ever since. But I
pray you believe me; I only spoke because, between shame and fear, I did
not know right from wrong. Do you forgive me?"

"Lady," answered the Frisian, smiling in his slow fashion, "if I had
been there unknown to Ramiro, and you had offered him this head of mine
on a dish as a bribe, not only would I have forgiven you but I would
have said that you did right. You are a maid, and you had to protect
yourself from a very dreadful thing; therefore who can blame you?"

"I can," said Martha. "Ramiro might have torn me to pieces with red-hot
pincers before I told him."

"Yes," said Martin, who felt that he had a debt to pay, "Ramiro might,
but I doubt whether he would have gone to that trouble to persuade you
to take a husband. No, don't be angry. 'Frisian thick of head, Frisian
free of speech,' goes the saying."

Not being able to think of any appropriate rejoinder, Martha turned
again upon Elsa.

"Your father died for that treasure," she said, "and Dirk van Goorl died
for it, and your lover and his serving-man there went to the torture-den
for it, and I--well, I have done a thing or two. But you, girl, why, at
the first pinch, you betray the secret. But, as Martin says, I was fool
enough to tell you."

"Oh! you are hard," said Elsa, beginning to weep under Martha's bitter
reproaches; "but you forget that at least none of you were asked to
marry--oh! I mustn't say that. I mean to become the wife of one man;"
then her eyes fell upon Foy and an inspiration seized her; here, at
least, was one of whom she could make a friend--"when you happen to be
very much in love with another."

"Of course not," said Foy, "there is no need for you to explain."

"I think there is a great deal to explain," went on Martha, "for you
cannot fool me with pretty words. But now, hark you, Foy van Goorl, what
is to be done? We have striven hard to save that treasure, all of us; is
it to be lost at the last?"

"Aye," echoed Martin, growing very serious, "is it to be lost at the
last? Remember what the worshipful Hendrik Brant said to us yonder
on that night at The Hague--that he believed that in a day to come
thousands and tens of thousands of our people would bless the gold he
entrusted to us."

"I remember it all," answered Foy, "and other things too; his will, for
instance," and he thought of his father and of those hours which Martin
and he had spent in the Gevangenhuis. Then he looked up at Martha and
said briefly: "Mother, though they call you mad, you are the wisest
among us; what is your counsel?"

She pondered awhile and answered: "This is certain, that so soon as
Ramiro finds that we have escaped, having the key to it, he will take
boat and sail to the place where the barrels are buried, knowing well
that otherwise we shall be off with them. Yes, I tell you that by dawn,
or within an hour of it, he will be there," and she stopped.

"You mean," said Foy, "that we ought to be there before him."

Martha nodded and answered, "If we can, but I think that at best there
must be a fight for it."

"Yes," said Martin, "a fight. Well, I should like another fight with
Ramiro. That fork-tongued adder has got my sword, and I want to get it
back again."

"Oh!" broke in Elsa, "is there to be more fighting? I hoped that at last
we were safe, and going straight to Leyden, where the Prince is. I hate
this bloodshed; I tell you, Foy, it frightens me to death; I believe
that I shall die of it."

"You hear what she says?" asked Foy.

"We hear," answered Martha. "Take no heed of her, the child has suffered
much, she is weak and squeamish. Now I, although I believe that my death
lies before me, I say, go on and fear not."

"But I do take heed," said Foy. "Not for all the treasures in the world
shall Elsa be put in danger again if she does not wish it; she shall
decide, and she alone."

"How good you are to me," she murmured, then she mused a moment. "Foy,"
she said, "will you promise something to me?"

"After your experience of Ramiro's oaths I wonder that you ask," he
answered, trying to be cheerful.

"Will you promise," she went on, taking no note, "that if I say yes and
we go, not to Leyden, but to seek the treasure, and live through it,
that you will take me away from this land of bloodshed and murder and
torments, to some country where folk may live at peace, and see no one
killed, except it be now and again an evil-doer? It is much to ask, but
oh! Foy, will you promise?"

"Yes, I promise," said Foy, for he, too, was weary of this daily terror.
Who would not have been that had passed through the siege of Haarlem?

Foy was steering, but now Martha slipped aft and took the tiller from
his hand. For a moment she studied the stars that grew clearer in the
light of the sinking moon, then shifted the helm a point or two to port
and sat still.

"I am hungry again," said Martin presently; "I feel as though I could
eat for a week without stopping."

Adrian looked up from over his oar, at which he was labouring
dejectedly, and said:

"There are food and wine in the locker. I hid them there. Perhaps Elsa
could serve them to those who wish to eat."

So Elsa, who was doing nothing, found the drink and victuals, and handed
them round to the rowers, who ate and drank as best they might with a
thankful heart, but without ceasing from their task. To men who have
starved for months the taste of wholesome provender and sound wine is a
delight that cannot be written in words.

When at length they had filled themselves, Adrian spoke.

"If it is your good will, brother," he said, addressing Foy, "as we do
not know what lies in front, nor how long any of us have to live, I, who
am an outcast and a scorn among you, wish to tell you a story."

"Speak on," said Foy.

So Adrian began from the beginning, and told them all his tale. He told
them how at the first he had been led astray by superstitions, vanity,
and love; how his foolish confidences had been written down by spies;
how he had been startled and terrified into signing them with results
of which they knew. Then he told them how he was hunted like a mad dog
through the streets of Leyden after his mother had turned him from her
door; how he took refuge in the den of Hague Simon, and there had fought
with Ramiro and been conquered by the man's address and his own horror
of shedding a father's blood. He told them of his admission into
the Roman faith, of the dreadful scene in the church when Martha had
denounced him, of their flight to the Red Mill. He told them of the
kidnapping of Elsa, and how he had been quite innocent of it although
he loved her dearly; of how at last he was driven into marrying her,
meaning her no harm, to save her from the grip of Ramiro, and knowing at
heart that it was no marriage; of how, when the flood burst upon them,
he had been hustled from the mill where, since she could no longer be of
service to him and might work him injury, as he discovered afterwards,
Ramiro had left Elsa to her fate. Lastly, in a broken voice, he told
them of his life during the long siege which, so he said, was as the
life of a damned spirit, and of how, when death thinned the ranks of the
Spaniards, he had been made an officer among them, and by the special
malice of Ramiro forced to conduct the executions and murders of such
Hollanders as they took.

Then at last his chance had come. Ramiro, thinking that now he could
never turn against him, had given him Elsa, and left him with her while
he went about his duties and to secure a share of the plunder, meaning
to deal with his prisoners on the morrow. So he, Adrian, a man in
authority, had provided the boat and freed them. That was all he had to
say, except to renounce any claim upon her who was called his wife, and
to beg their forgiveness.

Foy listened to the end. Then, dropping his oar for a moment, he put his
arm about Adrian's waist and hugged him, saying in his old cheery voice:

"I was right after all. You know, Adrian, I always stood up for you,
notwithstanding your temper and queer ways. No, I never would believe
that you were a villain, but neither could I ever have believed that you
were quite such an ass."

To this outspoken estimate of his character, so fallen and crushed was
he, his brother had not the spirit to reply. He could merely tug at his
oar and groan, while the tears of shame and repentance ran down his pale
and handsome face.

"Never mind, old fellow," said Foy consolingly. "It all went wrong,
thanks to you, and thanks to you I believe that it will all come right
again. So we will cry quits and forget the rest."

Poor Adrian glanced up at Foy and at Elsa sitting on the thwart of the
boat by his side.

"Yes, brother," he answered, "for you and Elsa it may come right,
but not for me in this world, for I--I have sold myself to the devil
and--got no pay."

After that for a while no one spoke; all felt that the situation was
too tragic for speech; even the follies, and indeed the wickedness, of
Adrian were covered up, were blotted out in the tragedy of his utter
failure, yes, and redeemed by the depth of his atonement.



The grey light of the summer morning began to grow on the surface of the
great inland sea. Far behind them they beheld the sun's rays breaking
upon the gilt crown that is set above the tower of St. Bavon's Church,
soaring over the lost city of Haarlem and the doomed patriots who lay
there presently to meet their death at the murderer's sword. They looked
and shuddered. Had it not been for Adrian they would be prisoners now,
and what that meant they knew. If they had been in any doubt, what they
saw around must have enlightened them, for here and there upon the misty
surface of the lake, or stranded in its shallows, were the half-burnt
out hulls of ships, the remains of the conquered fleet of William
the Silent; a poor record of the last desperate effort to relieve the
starving city. Now and again, too, something limp and soft would cumber
their oars, the corpse of a drowned or slaughtered man still clad
perchance in its armour.

At length they passed out of these dismal remains of lost men, and Elsa
could look about her without shuddering. Now they were in fleet water,
and in among the islands whereon the lush summer growth of weeds and the
beautiful marsh flowers grew as greenly and bloomed as bright as though
no Spaniard had trampled their roots under foot during all those winter
months of siege and death. These islets, scores and hundreds of them,
appeared on every side, but between them all Martha steered an unerring
path. As the sun rose she stood up in the boat, and shading her eyes
with her hand to shut out its level rays, looked before her.

"There is the place," she said, pointing to a little bulrush-clad isle,
from which a kind of natural causeway, not more than six feet wide,
projected like a tongue among muddy shallows peopled by coots and
water-hens with their red-beaked young.

Martin rose too. Then he looked back behind him and said;

"I see the cap of a sail upon the skyline. It is Ramiro."

"Without doubt," answered Martha calmly. "Well, we have the half of an
hour to work in. Pull, bow oar, pull, we will go round the island and
beach her in the mud on the further side. They will be less likely to
see us there, and I know a place whence we can push off in a hurry."



CHAPTER XXIX

ADRIAN COMES HOME AGAIN

They landed on the island, wading to it through the mud, which at this
spot had a gravelly bottom; all of them except Elsa, who remained on the
boat to keep watch. Following otter-paths through the thick rushes they
came to the centre of the islet, some thirty yards away. Here, at a spot
which Martha ascertained by a few hurried pacings, grew a dense tuft of
reeds. In the midst of these reeds was a duck's nest with the young just
hatching out, off which the old bird flew with terrified quackings.

Beneath this nest lay the treasure, if it were still there.

"At any rate the place has not been disturbed lately," said Foy. Then,
even in his frantic haste, lifting the little fledglings--for he
loved all things that had life, and did not wish to see them hurt--he
deposited them where they might be found again by the mother.

"Nothing to dig with," muttered Martin, "not even a stone." Thereon
Martha pushed her way to a willow bush that grew near, and with the
smaller of the two axes, which she held in her hand, cut down the
thickest of its stems and ran back with them. By the help of these
sharpened stakes, and with their axes, they began to dig furiously, till
at length the point of Foy's implement struck upon the head of a barrel.

"The stuff is still here, keep to it, friends," he said, and they worked
on with a will till three of the five barrels were almost free from the
mud.

"Best make sure of these," said Martin. "Help me, master," and between
them one by one they rolled them to the water's edge, and with great
efforts, Elsa aiding them, lifted them into the boat. As they approached
with the third cask they found her staring white-faced over the tops of
the feathery reeds.

"What is it, sweet?" asked Foy.

"The sail, the following sail," she answered.

They rested the barrel of gold upon the gunwale and looked back across
the little island. Yes, there it came, sure enough, a tall, white sail
not eight hundred yards away and bearing down straight upon the place.
Martin rolled the barrel into position.

"I hoped that they would not find it," he said, "but Martha draws maps
well, too well. Once, before she married, she painted pictures, and that
is why."

"What is to be done?" asked Elsa.

"I don't know," he answered, and as he spoke Martha ran up, for she also
had seen the boat. "You see," he went on, "if we try to escape they will
catch us, for oars can't race a sail."

"Oh!" said Elsa, "must we be taken after all?"

"I hope not, girl," said Martha, "but it is as God wills. Listen,
Martin," and she whispered in his ear.

"Good," he said, "if it can be done, but you must watch your chance.
Come, now, there is no time to lose. And you, lady, come also, for you
can help to roll the last two barrels."

Then they ran back to the hole, whence Foy and Adrian, with great toil,
had just dragged the last of the tubs. For they, too, had seen the sail,
and knew that time was short.

"Heer, Adrian," said Martin, "you have the cross-bow and the bolts, and
you used to be the best shot of all three of us; will you help me to
hold the causeway?"

Now Adrian knew that Martin said this, not because he was a good shot
with the cross-bow, but because he did not trust him, and wished to have
him close to his hand, but he answered:

"With all my heart, as well as I am able."

"Very good," said Martin. "Now let the rest of you get those two casks
into the boat, leaving the Jufvrouw hidden in the reeds to watch by
it, while you, Foy and Martha, come back to help us. Lady, if they sail
round the island, call and let us know."

So Martin and Adrian went down to the end of the little gravelly tongue
and crouched among the tall meadow-sweet and grasses, while the others,
working furiously, rolled the two barrels to the water-edge and shipped
them, throwing rushes over them that they might not catch the eye of the
Spaniards.

The sailing boat drew on. In the stern-sheets of it sat Ramiro, an open
paper, which he was studying, upon his knee, and still slung about his
body the great sword Silence.

"Before I am half an hour older," reflected Martin, for even now he did
not like to trust his thoughts to Adrian, "either I will have that sword
back again, or I shall be a dead man. But the odds are great, eleven of
them, all tough fellows, and we but three and two women."

Just then Ramiro's voice reached them across the stillness of the water.

"Down with the sail," he cried cheerily, "for without a doubt that is
the place--there are the six islets in a line, there in front the other
island shaped like a herring, and there the little promontory marked
'landing place.' How well this artist draws to be sure!"

The rest of his remarks were lost in the creaking of the blocks as the
sail came down.

"Shallow water ahead, Senor," said a man in the bows sounding with a
boat hook.

"Good," answered Ramiro, throwing out the little anchor, "we will wade
ashore."

As he spoke the Spanish soldier with the boat-hook suddenly pitched
head first into the water, a quarrel from Adrian's crossbow through his
heart.

"Ah!" said Ramiro, "so they are here before us. Well, there can't be
many of them. Now then, prepare to land."

Another quarrel whistled through the air and stuck in the mast, doing
no hurt. After this no more bolts came, for in his eagerness Adrian had
broken the mechanism of the bow by over-winding it, so that it became
useless. They leaped into the water, Ramiro with them, and charged for
the land, when of a sudden, almost at the tip of the little promontory,
from among the reeds rose the gigantic shape of Red Martin, clad in his
tattered jerkin and bearing in his hand a heavy axe, while behind him
appeared Foy and Adrian.

"Why, by the Saints!" cried Ramiro, "there's my weather-cock son again,
fighting against us this time. Well, Weather-cock, this is your last
veer," then he began to wade towards the promontory. "Charge," he cried,
but not a man would advance within reach of that axe. They stood here
and there in the water looking at it doubtfully, for although they were
brave enough, there was none of them but knew of the strength and deeds
of the red Frisian giant, and half-starved as he was, feared to meet him
face to face. Moreover, he had a position of advantage, of that there
could be no doubt.

"Can I help you to land, friends?" said Martin, mocking them. "No, it is
no use looking right or left, the mud there is very deep."

"An arquebus, shoot him with an arquebus!" shouted the men in front; but
there was no such weapon in the boat, for the Spaniards, who had left in
a hurry, and without expecting to meet Red Martin, had nothing but their
swords and knives.

Ramiro considered a moment, for he saw that to attempt to storm this
little landing-place would cost many lives, even if it were possible.
Then he gave an order, "Back aboard." The men obeyed with alacrity. "Out
oars and up anchor!" he cried.

"He is clever," said Foy; "he knows that our boat must be somewhere, and
he is going to seek for it."

Martin nodded, and for the first time looked afraid. Then, as soon as
Ramiro had begun to row round the islet, leaving Martha to watch that
he did not return and rush the landing-stage, they crossed through the
reeds to the other side and climbed into their boat. Scarcely were they
there, when Ramiro and his men appeared, and a shout announced that they
were discovered.

On crept the Spaniards as near as they dared, that is to within a dozen
fathoms of them, and anchored, for they were afraid to run their own
heavy sailing cutter upon the mud lest they might be unable to get her
off again. Also, for evident reasons, being without firearms and knowing
the character of the defenders, they feared to make a direct attack. The
position was curious and threatened to be prolonged. At last Ramiro rose
and addressed them across the water.

"Gentlemen and lady of the enemy," he said, "for I think that I see my
little captive of the Red Mill among you, let us take counsel together.
We have both of us made this expedition for a purpose, have we
not--namely, to secure certain filthy lucre which, after all, would be
of slight value to dead men? Now, as you, or some of you, know, I am a
man opposed to violence; I wish to hurry the end of none, nor even
to inflict suffering, if it can be avoided. But there is money in the
question, to secure which I have already gone through a great deal of
inconvenience and anxiety, and, to be brief, that money I must have,
while you, on the other hand are doubtless anxious to escape hence with
your lives. So I make you an offer. Let one of our party come under safe
conduct on board your boat and search it, just to see if anything lies
beneath those rushes for instance. Then, if it is found empty, we will
withdraw to a distance and let you go, or the same if full, that is,
upon its contents being unladen into the mud."

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.