CHAPTER XIX.
Adrian's activity for this night was not yet over, for his father didnot prevent his accompanying him to the town-hall. There he directed himto tell his mother, that he should be busy until morning and the servantmight send all persons, who desired to speak to him after one o'clock,to the timber-market on the Rhine. Maria sent the boy back to thetown-hall, to ask his father if he did not want his cloak, wine, a lunchor anything of the sort.
The boy fulfilled this commission with great zeal, for he never hadfelt so important as while forcing his way through the crowds thathad gathered in the narrower streets; he had a duty to perform, andat night, the time when other boys were asleep, especially hisschool-mates, who certainly would not be allowed to leave the house now.Besides, an eventful period, full of the beating of drums, the blare oftrumpets, the rattle of musketry and roar of cannon might be expected.It seemed as if the game "Holland against Spain" was to be continued inearnest, and on a grand scale. All the vivacity of his years seizedupon him, and when he had forced a way with his elbows to less crowdedplaces, he dashed hurriedly along, shouting as merrily as if spreadingsome joyful news in the darkness:
"They are coming!" "the Spaniards!" or "Hannibal ante portas."
After learning on his return to the town-hall, that his father wantednothing and would send a constable if there was need of anything, heconsidered his errand done and felt entitled to satisfy his curiosity.
This drew him first to the English riders. The tent where they had giventheir performances had disappeared from the earth, and screaming menand women were rolling up large pieces of canvas, fastening packs,and swearing while they harnessed horses. The gloomy light of torchesmingled with the moonbeams and showed him on the narrow steps, that ledto a large four-wheeled cart, a little girl in shabby clothes, weepingbitterly. Could this be the rosy-cheeked angel who, floating along onthe snow-white pony, had seemed to him like a happy creature from morebeautiful worlds? A scolding old woman now lifted the child into thecart, but he followed the crowd and saw Doctor Morpurgo, no longer cladin scarlet, but in plain dark cloth, mounted on a lean horse, ridingbeside his cart. The negro was furiously urging the mule forward, buthis master seemed to have remained in full possession of the calmnesspeculiar to him. His wares were of small value, and the Spaniards hadno reason to take his head and tongue, by which he gained more than heneeded.
Adrian followed him to the long row of booths in the wide street, andthere saw things, which put an end to his thoughtlessness and made himrealize, that the point in question now concerned serious, heart-rendingmatters. He had still been able to laugh as he saw the ginger-breadbakers and cotton-sellers fighting hand to hand, because in the firstfright they had tossed their packages of wares hap-hazard into eachother's open chests, and were now unable to separate their property;but he felt sincerely sorry for the Delft crockery-dealer on the corner,whose light booth had been demolished by a large wagon from Gouda,loaded with bales, and who now stood beside her broken wares, by meansof which she supported herself and children, wringing her hands, whilethe driver, taking no notice of her, urged on his horses with loudcracks of his whip. A little girl, who had lost her parents and wasbeing carried away by a compassionate burgher woman, was weepingpiteously. A poor rope-dancer, who had been robbed by a thief in thecrowd, of the little tin box containing the pennies he had collected,was running about, ringing his hands and looking for the watchman.A shoemaker was pounding riding-boots and women's shoes in motleyconfusion into a wooden chest with rope handles, while his wife, insteadof helping him, tore her hair and shrieked: "I told you so, you fool,you simpleton, you blockhead! They'll come and rob us of everything."
At the entrance of the street that led past the Assendelft house to theLeibfrau Bridge, several loaded wagons had become entangled, and thedrivers, instead of getting down and procuring help, struck at eachother in their terror, hitting the women and children seated among thebales. Their cries and shrieks echoed a long distance, but were destinedto be drowned, for a dancing-bear had broken loose and was putting everyone near him to flight. The people, who were frightened by the beast,rushed down the street, screaming and yelling, dragging with them otherswho did not know the cause of the alarm, and misled by the most imminentfear, roared: "The Spaniards! The Spaniards!" Whatever came in theway of the terrified throngs was overthrown. A sieve-dealer's child,standing beside its father's upset cart, fell beneath the mob closebeside Adrian, who had stationed himself in the door-way of a house. Butthe lad was crowded so closely into his hiding-place, that he could notspring to the little one's aid, and his attention was attracted to anew sight, as Janus Dousa appeared on horseback. In answer to the cryof "The Spaniards! The Spaniards!" he shouted loudly: "Quiet, people,quiet! The enemy hasn't come yet! To the Rhine! Vessels are waitingthere for all strangers. To the Rhine! There are no Spaniards there, doyou hear, no Spaniards!"
The nobleman stopped just before Adrian, for his horse could go nofarther and stood snorting and trembling under his rider. The advicebore little fruit, and not until hundreds had rushed past him, did thefrightened crowd diminish. The bear, from which they fled, had beencaught by a brewer's apprentice and taken back to its owner long before.The city constables now appeared, led by Adrian's father, and the boyfollowed them unobserved to the timber-market on the southern bank ofthe Rhine. There another crowd met him, for many dealers had hurriedthither to save their property in the ships. Men and women pressed pastbales and wares, that were being rolled down the narrow wooden bridgesto the vessels. A woman, a child, and a rope-maker's cart had beenpushed into the water, and the wildest confusion prevailed around thespot. But the burgomaster reached the place just at the right time,gave directions for rescuing the drowning people, and then made everyexertion to bring order out of the confusion.
The constables were commanded to admit fugitives only on board thevessels bound for the places where they belonged; two planks were laidto every ship, One for goods, the other for passengers; the constablesloudly shouted that--as the law directed when the alarm-bell rang--allcitizens of Leyden must enter their houses and the streets be cleared,on pain of a heavy penalty. All the city gates were opened for thepassage of wheeled vehicles, except the Hohenort Gate, which led toLeyderdorp, where egress was refused. Thus the crowd in the streetswas lessened, order appeared amid the tumult, and when, in the dawn ofmorning, Adrian turned his steps towards home, there was little morebustle in the streets than on ordinary nights.
His mother and Barbara had been anxious, but he told them about hisfather and in what manner he had put a stop to the confusion.
While talking, the rattle of musketry was heard in the distance, awakingsuch excitement in Adrian's mind, that he wanted to rush out again; buthis mother stopped him and he was obliged to mount the stairs to hisroom. He did not go to sleep, but climbed to the upper loft in the gableof the rear building and gazed through the window, to which the bales ofleather were raised by pulleys, towards the east, from whence the soundof firing was still audible. But he saw nothing except the dawn andlight clouds of smoke, that assumed a rosy hue as they floated upward.As nothing new appeared, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep beside theopen window where he dreamed of a bloody battle and the English riders.His slumber was so sound, that he did not hear the rumble of wheels inthe quiet courtyard below him. The carts from which the noise proceededbelonged to traders from neighboring cities, who preferred to leavetheir goods in the threatened town, rather than carry them towards theadvancing Spaniards. Meister Peter had allowed some of them to storetheir property with him. The carts were obliged to pass through theback-building with the workshops, and the goods liable to be injuredby the weather, were to be placed in the course of the day in the largegarrets of his house.
The burgomaster's wife had gone to Henrica at midnight to soothe herfears, but the sick girl seemed free from all anxiety, and when sheheard that the Spaniards were on the march, her eyes sparkled joyously.Maria noticed it and turned away from her guest, but sh
e repressed theharsh words that sprang to her lips, wished her good-night, and left thechamber.
Henrica gazed thoughtfully after her and then rose, for no sleep waspossible that night. The alarm-bell in the Tower of Pancratius rangincessantly, and more than once doors opened, voices and shots wereheard. Many tones and noises, whose origin and nature she could notunderstand, reached her ears, and when morning dawned, the court-yardunder her windows, usually so quiet, was full of bustle. Carts rattled,loud tones mingled excitedly, and a deep masculine voice seemed to bedirecting what was going on. Her curiosity and restlessness increasedevery moment. She listened so intently that her head began to acheagain, but could hear only separate words and those very indistinctly.Had the city been surrendered to the Spaniards, had King Philip'ssoldiers found quarters in the burgomaster's house? Her blood boiledindignantly, when she thought of the Castilians' triumph and thehumiliation of her native land, but soon her former joyous excitementagain filled her mind, as she beheld in imagination art re-enter thebare walls of the Leyden churches, now robbed of all their ornaments,chanting processions move through the streets, and priests in rich robescelebrating mass in the newly-decorated tabernacles, amid beautifulmusic, the odor of incense, and the ringing of bells. She expected toreceive from the Spaniards a place where she could pray and free hersoul by confession. Amid her former surroundings nothing had affordedher any support, except her religion. A worthy priest, who was also herinstructor, had zealously striven to prove to her, that the new religionthreatened to destroy the mystical consecration of life, the yearningfor the beautiful, every ideal emotion of the human soul, and withthem art also; so Henrica preferred to see her native land Spanishand Catholic, rather than free from the foreigners whom she hated andCalvinistical.
The court-yard gradually became less noisy, but when the first rays ofmorning light streamed into her windows, the bustle again commenced andgrew louder. Heavy soles tramped upon the pavement, and amid the voicesthat now mingled with those she had formerly heard, she fancied shedistinguished Maria's and Barbara's. Yes, she was not mistaken. Thatcry of terror must proceed from her friend's mouth, and was followed byexclamations of grief from bearded lips and loud sobs.
Evil tidings must have reached her host's house, and the woman weepingso impetuously below was probably kind "Babetta."
Anxiety drove her from her bed. On the little table beside it, amidseveral bottles and glasses, the lamp and the box of matches, stood thetiny bell, at whose faint sound one of her nurses invariably hastenedin. Henrica rang it three times, then again and again, but nobodyappeared. Then her hot blood boiled, and half from impatience andvexation, half from curiosity and sympathy, she slipped into her shoes,threw on a morning dress, went to the chair which stood on the platformin the niche, opened the window, and looked down at the groups gatheredbelow.
No one noticed her, for the men who stood there sorrowing, and theweeping women, among whom were Maria and Barbara, were listening withmany tokens of sympathy to the eager words of a young man, and had eyesand ears for him alone. Henrica recognized in the speaker the musicianWilhelm, but only by his voice, for the morion on his curls and theblood-stained coat of mail gave the unassuming artist a martial, nayheroic air.
He had advanced a long way in his story, when Henrica unseen became alistener.
"Yes, sir," he replied, in answer to a question from the burgomaster,"we followed them, but they disappeared in the village and all remainedstill. To risk storming the houses, would have been madness. So wekept quiet, but towards two o'clock heard firing in the neighborhoodof Leyderdorp. 'Junker von Warmond has made a sally,' said the captain,leading us in the direction of the firing. This was what the Spaniardshad wanted, for long before we reached the goal, a company ofCastilians, with white sheets over their armor, climbed out of aditch in the dim light, threw themselves on their knees, murmured a'Pater-noster,' shouted their San Jago and pressed forward upon us. Wehad seen them in time for the halberdiers to extend their pikes, andthe musketeers to be down amid the grass. So the Spaniards had a warmreception, and four of them fell in this attack. We were superior innumbers, and their captain led them back to the ditch in good order.There they halted, for their duty was probably to detain us and thenhave us cut down by a larger body. We were too weak to drive them fromtheir position, but when the east began to brighten and they still didnot come forward, the captain advanced towards them with the drummer,bearing a white flag, and shouted to them in Italian, which he hadlearned to speak a little in Italy, that he wished the Castiliangentlemen good-morning, and if there was any officer with a sense ofhonor among them, let him come forth and meet a captain who wished tocross swords with him. He pledged his word, that his men would look onat the duel without taking any share in it, no matter what the resultmight be. Just at that moment two shots were fired from the ditch andthe bullets whizzed close by the poor captain. We called to him to savehis life, but he did not stir, and shouted that they were cowards andassassins, like their king.
"Meantime it had grown tolerably light--we heard them calling to andfro from the ditch, and just as Allertssohn was turning away, an officersprang into the meadow, exclaiming: 'Stand, braggart, and draw yourblade.'
"The captain drew his Brescian sword, bowed to his enemy as if he werein the fencing-school, bent the steel and closed with the Castilian. Thelatter was a thin man of stately figure and aristocratic bearing, andas it soon appeared, a dangerous foe. He circled like a whirlwind, roundthe captain with bounds, thrusts and feints, but Allertssohn maintainedhis composure, and at first confined himself to skilful parrying. Thenhe dealt a magnificent quarte, and when the other parried it, followedwith the tierce, and this being warded off, gave with the speed oflightning a side-thrust such as only he can deal. The Castilian fell onhis knees, for the Brescian blade had pierced his lungs. His death wasspeedy.
"As soon as he lay on the turf, the Spaniards again rushed upon us, butwe repulsed them and took the officer's body in our midst. Never have Iseen the captain so proud and happy. You, Junker von Warmond, can easilyguess the cause. He had now done honor to his series in a genuineduel against an enemy of equal rank, and told me this was the happiestmorning of his life. Then he ordered us to march round the ditch andattack the enemy on the flank. But scarcely had we begun to move, whenthe expected troops from Leyderdorp pressed forward, their loud San Jagoresounding far and wide, while at the same time the old enemy rose fromthe ditch and attacked us. Allertssohn rushed forward, but did not reachthem--oh, gentlemen! I shall never forget it, a bullet struck him downat my side. It probably pierced his heart, for he said: nothing but:'Remember the boy!' stretched out his powerful frame and died. We wantedto bear his body away with us, but were pressed by superior numbers,and it was hard enough to come within range of Junker von Warmond'svolunteers. The Spaniards did not venture so far. Here we are. TheCastilian's body is lying in the tower at the Hohenort Gate. These arethe papers we found in the dead man's doublet, and this is his ring; hehas a proud escutcheon."
Peter Van der Werff took the dead man's letter-case in his hand, lookedthrough it and said: "His name was Don Luis d'Avila."
He said no more, for his wife had seen Henrica's head stretched far outof the window, and cried loudly in terror: "Fraulein, for Heaven's sake,Fraulein--what are you doing?"