CHAPTER XXI
A GRIEF-STRICKEN FATHER
Frans Hals had not been guilty of exaggeration when he said that thewhole city was in a turmoil about the abduction of Gilda Beresteyn bythat impudent gang of ocean-robbers who called themselves thesea-wolves.
On this subject there were no two opinions. The sea-wolves had done thisdeed as they had done others of a like nature before. The abduction ofchildren of rich parents was one of their most frequent crimes: and manya wealthy burgher had had to pay half his fortune away in ransom for hischild. The fact that a covered sledge escorted by three riders who wereswathed in heavy mantles had been seen to go out of the city by thenorthern gate at seven o'clock last evening, was held to be sufficientproof that the unfortunate jongejuffrouw was being conveyed straightwayto the coast where the pirates had their own lairs and defied everyeffort which had hitherto been made for their capture.
On this the 2nd day of January, 1624--rather less than twenty-four hoursafter the abduction of Gilda Beresteyn, the tapperij of the "Lame Cow"presented an appearance which was almost as animated as that which hadgraced it on New Year's night. Everyone who took an interest in theterrible event went to the "Lame Cow" in the hope of finding anotherbetter informed than himself.
Men and women sat round the tables or leaned against the bars discussingthe situation: every one, of course, had a theory to put forward, or asuggestion to offer.
"'Tis time the old law for the raising of a corps of Waardgelders by thecity were put into force once more," said Mynheer van der Meer theburgomaster, whose words carried weight. "What can a city do for thepreservation of law and order if it has not the power to levy its ownmilitary guard?"
"My opinion is," said Mynheer van Zeller, who was treasurer of theOudemannenhuis and a personage of vast importance, "that we in this cityought to close out gates against all this foreign rabble who infest uswith their noise and their loose ways. Had there not been such a crowdof them here for the New Year you may depend on it that JongejuffrouwBeresteyn would not have had to suffer this dastardly abomination."
Others on the other hand thought that the foreign mercenaries now withinthe city could be utilised for the purpose of an expedition against thesea-wolves.
"They are very daring and capable fighters," suggested Mynheer vanBeerenbrock--a meek, timid but vastly corpulent gentleman of greatconsideration on the town council, "and more able to grapple withdesperate brigands than were a levy of raw recruits from among our youngtownsfolk."
"Set a rogue to fight a rogue, say I," assented another pompous burgher.
Cornelius Beresteyn sat at a table with his son and surrounded by hismost influential friends. Those who knew him well declared that he hadaged ten years in the past few hours. His devotion to his daughter waswell known and it was pitiable to see the furrows in his cheeks wet withcontinuously falling tears. He sat huddled up within himself, his elbowsresting on the table, his head often buried in his hands when emotionmastered him, and he felt unable to restrain his tears. He looked like aman absolutely dazed with the immensity of his grief, as if some one haddealt him a violent blow on the head which had half-addled his brain.
Throughout the day his house had been positively invaded by the frequentcallers who, under a desire to express their sympathy, merely hid theireagerness to learn fresh details of the outrage. Cornelius Beresteyn,harassed by this well-meaning and very noisy crowd and feeling numb inmind and weary in body, had been too feeble to withstand the urgententreaties of his friends who had insisted on dragging him to the "LameCow," where the whole situation--which had become of almost nationalimportance--could be fully and comprehensively discussed.
"You want to get your daughter back, do you not, old friend?" urgedMynheer van der Meer the burgomaster.
"Of course," assented Beresteyn feebly.
"And you want to get her back as quickly as possible," added the pompoustreasurer of the Oudemannenhuis.
"As quickly as possible," reiterated Beresteyn vaguely.
"Very well then," concluded the burgomaster, in tones of triumph whichsuggested that he had gained a great victory over the obstinate will ofhis friend, "what you must do, my good Beresteyn, is to attend aninformal council which I have convened for this afternoon at the 'LameCow' and whereat we will listen to all the propositions put forward byour fellow-townsmen for the speedy capture of those vervloekte brigandsand the liberation of your beloved daughter."
In the meanwhile an untoward accident had momentarily arrested theprogress of the original band of volunteers who, under the leadership ofNicolaes Beresteyn, had started quite early in the morning on theGroningen route in pursuit of the sea-wolves. Nicolaes, namely, onremounting his horse after a brief halt at Bloemendal, had slipped onthe snow covered ground; his horse jumped aside and reared and, in sodoing, seriously wrenched Nicolaes' right arm, almost dislocating hisshoulder and causing him thereby such excruciating pain that he nearlyfainted on the spot.
Further progress on horseback became an impossibility for him, and twoof the volunteers had much difficulty in conveying him back to Haarlem,where, however, he displayed the utmost fortitude by refusing to wastehis time in being examined and tended by the bone-setter, and declaringthat since he could not take an active part in the campaign against thevervloekte malefactors he would give every moment of his time and everyfaculty he possessed for the organisation of an effective corps ofsoldiery capable of undertaking a successful punitive expedition.
He joined his father in the tap-room of the "Lame Cow," and though hewas obviously in great pain with his arm and shoulder which he hadhastily and perfunctorily tied up with his sash, he was untiring in hissuggestions, his advice, his offers of money and of well-consideredplans.
Unbeknown to anyone save to him, the Lord of Stoutenburg sat in a darkrecess of the tapperij deeply interested in all that was going on. Heknew, of course, every detail of the plot which Nicolaes Beresteyn hadhatched at his instigation and--hidden as he was in his obscurecorner--it pleased his masterful mind to think that the tangled skein ofthis affair which these solemn and pompous burghers were trying tounravel had been originally embroiled by himself.
He listened contemptuously and in silence to the wild and oft senselesstalk which went on around him; but when he caught sight of Diogenesswaggering into the room in the wake of the painter Frans Hals he verynearly betrayed himself.
Nicolaes Beresteyn too was dumbfounded. For the moment he literallygasped with astonishment, and was quite thankful that his supposedlydislocated shoulder furnished a good pretext for the string of oathswhich he uttered. But Diogenes, sublimely indifferent to theastonishment of his patron, took a seat beside his friend at one of thevacant tables and ordered a substantial supper with a bottle of verychoice wine wherewith to wash it down, all of which he evidently meantto pay for with Nicolaes' money. The latter could do nothing but sit byin grim silence while the man whom he had paid to do him service ate anddrank heartily, cracked jokes and behaved for all the world as if hewere a burgher of leisure plentifully supplied with money.
Time was going on: the subject of the expedition against the sea-wolves
had been fully discussed and certain resolutions arrived at, which onlylacked the assent of the burgomaster sitting in council and of CorneliusBeresteyn--the party chiefly interested in the affair--in order to takeeffect on the morrow.
Gradually the tap-room became less and less full: one by one the eagerand inquisitive townsfolk departed in order to impart what news they hadgleaned to their expectant families at home.
Nicolaes Beresteyn, inwardly fuming and fretting with rage, had beenquite unable to stay on quietly while Diogenes sat not twenty paces awayfrom him, wasting his patron's time and money and apparently in the bestof humours, for his infectious laugh rang from end to end of theraftered room; he had soon assembled a small crowd of boon-companionsround his table, whom he treated to merry jests as well as to MynheerBeek's most excellent wine; but when he leaned forward bumper in handand actuall
y had the audacity loudly to pledge the noble Beresteynfamily and to wish the heroic Nicolaes speedy mending of his brokenbones, the latter rose with a muttered curse and, having taken a curtfarewell from his friends, he strode glowering out of the room.
The Lord of Stoutenburg--as unobtrusive and silent as was his wont--rosequietly a few minutes later and followed in the wake of his friend.