CHAPTER XIV
AFTER EVENSONG
Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn had spent many hours in church this New Year'sDay, 1624. In spite of the inclemency of the weather she had attendedMorning Prayer and Holy Communion and now she was back again forEvensong.
The cathedral was not very full for it. Most people were making merry athome to celebrate the festival; so Gilda had a corner of the sacredbuilding all to herself, where she could think matters over silently andwith the help of prayer. The secret of which she had gained knowledgewas weighing heavily on her soul; and heart-rending doubts had assailedher all night and throughout the day.
How could she know what was the right thing to do?--to allow a crime ofwhich she had fore-knowledge, to be committed without raising a fingerto prevent it? or to betray her own brother and his friends--a betrayalwhich would inevitably lead them to the scaffold?
Her father was of course her great refuge, and to-night through Evensongshe prayed to God to guide her, as to whether she should tell everythingto her father or not. She had warned Nicolaes that she might do so, andyet her very soul shrank from the act which to many would seem so likebetrayal. Cornelius Beresteyn was a man of rigid principles andunyielding integrity. What he might do with the knowledge of theconspiracy in which his own son was taking a leading part, no one--noteven his daughter--could foresee. In no case would she act hurriedly.She hoped against all hope that mayhap Nicolaes would see his owntreachery in its true light and turn from it before it was too late, orthat God would give her some unmistakable sign of what He willed her todo.
Perplexed and wretched she stayed long on her knees and left the churchafter every one else. The night was dark and though the snow had leftoff falling momentarily, the usual frosty mist hung over the city.Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn wrapped her fur-lined cloak closely round hershoulders and started on her homeward walk, with Maria by her side andJakob and Piet on in front carrying their lanthorns.
Her way took her firstly across the Groote Markt then down the HoutStraat until she reached the Oude Gracht. Here her two serving men keptquite close in front of her for the embankment was lonely and awell-known resort for evil doers who found refuge in the several darkpassages that run at right angles from the canal and have no outlet attheir further end.
Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn followed rapidly in the wake of her lanthornbearers and keeping Maria--who was always timorous on dark nights and inlonely places--quite close to her elbow. Every footstep of the way wasfamiliar to her. Now the ground was frozen hard and the covering of snowcrisp beneath her feet as she walked, but in the autumn and the springthe mud here was ankle-deep, save on one or two rare spots in front ofthe better houses or public buildings where a few stones formed a pieceof dry pavement. Such a spot was the front of the Oudenvrouwenhuis withits wide oaken gateway and high brick walls. The unmade road here wasalways swept neatly and tidily; during the rainy seasons the mud waswashed carefully away and in the winter it was kept free from snow.
Beyond it was a narrow passage which led to the Chapel of St. Pieter,now disused since the Remonstrants had fallen into such bad odour afterthe death of Olden Barneveld and the treachery of his sons. The cornerof this passage was a favourite haunt for beggars, but only for thehumbler ones--since there is a hierarchy even amongst beggars, and themore prosperous ones, those known to the town-guard and thenight-watchmen, flocked around the church porches. In this spot wherethere were but a few passers-by, only those poor wretches came whomayhap had something to hide from the watchful eyes of the guardians ofthis city, those who had been in prison or had deserted from the army,or were known to be rogues and thieves.
Gilda Beresteyn, who had a soft heart, always kept a few kreutzers inthe palm of her hand ready to give to any of these poor outcasts whohappened to beg for alms along the embankment, but she never liked tostop here in order to give those other alms, which she knew were oftmore acceptable than money--the alms of kindly words.
To-night, however, she herself felt miserable and lonely and the voicethat came to her out of the darkness of the narrow passage which leadsto the Chapel of St. Pieter was peculiarly plaintive and sweet.
"For the love of Christ, gentle lady," murmured the voice softly.
Gilda stopped, ready with the kreutzers in her hand. But it was verydark just here and the snow appeared too deep to traverse; she could notsee the melancholy speaker, though she knew of course that it was awoman.
"Bring the lanthorn a little nearer, Jakob," she said.
"Do not stop, mejuffrouw, to parley with any of these scamps," saidMaria as she clung fearsomely to her mistress's cloak.
"For the love of Christ, gentle lady!" sighed the pitiable voice out ofthe darkness again.
Jakob brought the lanthorn nearer.
Some half a dozen steps up the passage a pathetic little figure appearedto view, the figure of a woman--a mere girl--with ragged shift and barelegs half buried in the depths of the snow.
Gilda without hesitation went up to her, money in hand, her own feetsinking in ankle deep into the cold, white carpet below. The girlretreated as the kind lady advanced, apparently scared by the two menwho had paused one at each corner of the passage holding their lanthornswell above their heads.
"Don't be frightened, girl," said Gilda Beresteyn gently, "here's alittle money. You look so cold, poor child!"
The next moment a double cry behind her caused her to turn in a trice:she had only just time to take in the terrifying fact that Piet andJakob had dropped their lanthorns to the ground even as thick darkcloths were thrown over their heads--before she found herself firmlyseized round the waist by a powerful arm whilst some kind of scarf waswound quickly round her face.
She had not the time to scream, the enveloping scarf smothered her cryeven as it formed in her throat. The last thing of which she was clearlyconscious was of a voice--which strangely enough soundedfamiliar--saying hurriedly:
"Here, take thy money, girl, and run home now as fast as thy feet willtake thee."
After that, though she was never totally unconscious, she was only dimlyaware of what happened to her. She certainly felt herself lifted off theground and carried for some considerable distance. What seemed to her along, long time afterwards she became aware that she was lying on herback and that there was a smell of sweet hay and fresh straw around her.Close to her ear there was the sound of a woman moaning. The scarf stillcovered her face, but it had been loosened so that she could breathe,and presently when she opened her eyes, she found that the scarf onlycovered her mouth.
As she lay on her back she could see nothing above her. She was not coldfor the straw around her formed a warm bed, and her cloak had beencarefully arranged so as to cover her completely, whilst her feet werewrapped up snugly in a rug.
It was only when complete consciousness returned to her that sherealized that she was lying in an object that moved: she becameconscious of the jingling of harness and of occasional unpleasantjolting, whilst the darkness overhead was obviously caused by the roofof a vehicle.
She tried to raise herself on her elbow, but she discovered that loose,though quite efficient bonds held her pinioned down; her arms, however,were free and she put out her hand in the direction whence came themuffled sound of a woman moaning.
"Lord! God Almighty! Lord in Heaven!" and many more appeals of a likecharacter escaped the lips of Gilda's companion in misfortune.
"Maria! Is it thou?" said Gilda in a whisper. Her hand went groping inthe dark until it encountered firstly a cloak, then an arm and finally ahead apparently also enveloped in a cloth.
"Lord God Almighty!" sighed the other woman feebly through the drapery."Is it mejuffrouw?"
"Yes, Maria, it is I!" whispered Gilda, "whither are they taking us,thinkest thou?"
"To some lonely spot where they can conveniently murder us!" murmuredMaria with a moan of anguish.
"But what became of Piet and Jakob?"
"Murdered probably. The cowards could not defend us."
G
ilda strained her ears to listen. She hoped by certain sounds to makeout at least in which direction she was being carried away. Above therattle and jingle of the harness she could hear at times the measuredtramp of horses trotting in the rear, and she thought at one time thatthe sleigh went over the wooden bridge on the Spaarne and then under theechoing portals of one of the city gates.
Her head after awhile began to ache terribly and her eyes felt as ifthey were seared with coal. Of course she lost all count of time: itseemed an eternity since she had spoken to the girl in the dark passagewhich leads to the chapel of St. Pieter.
Maria who lay beside her moaned incessantly for awhile like a fretfulchild, but presently she became silent.
Perhaps she had gone to sleep. The night air which found its way throughthe chinks of the hood came more keen and biting against Gilda's face.It cooled her eyes and eased the throbbing of her head. She felt verytired and as if her body had been bruised all over.
The noises around her became more monotonous, the tramping of the horsesin the rear of the sleigh sounded muffled and subdued. Drowsinessovercame Gilda Beresteyn and she fell into a troubled, half-wakingsleep.