CHAPTER I
NEW YEAR'S EVE
If the snow had come down again or the weather been colder, or wetter,or other than it was....
If one of the three men had been more thirsty, or the other moreinsistent....
If it had been any other day of the year, or any other hour of any otherday....
If the three philosophers had taken their walk abroad in any otherportion of the city of Haarlem....
If....
Nay! but there's no end to the Ifs which I might adduce in order toprove to you beyond a doubt that but for an extraordinary conglomerationof minor circumstances, the events which I am about to relate neitherwould nor could ever have taken place.
For indeed you must admit that had the snow come down again or theweather been colder, or wetter, the three philosophers would mayhap allhave felt that priceless thirst and desire for comfort which theinterior of a well-administered tavern doth so marvellously assuage. Andhad it been any other day of the year or any other hour of that samelast day of the year 1623, those three philosophers would never havethought of wiling away the penultimate hour of the dying year by hanginground the Grootemarkt in order to see the respectable mynheer burghersand the mevrouws their wives, filing into the cathedral in a sober andorderly procession, with large silver-clasped Bibles under their arms,and that air of satisfied unctuousness upon their faces which is bestsuited to the solemn occasion of watch-night service, and the desire toput oneself right with Heaven before commencing a New Year of commercialand industrial activity.
And had those three philosophers not felt any desire to watch this sameorderly procession they would probably have taken their walk abroad inanother portion of the city from whence....
But now I am anticipating.
Events crowded in so thickly and so fast, during the last hour of thedeparting year, and the first of the newly-born one, that it were bestmayhap to proceed with their relation in the order in which theyoccurred.
For look you, the links of a mighty chain had their origin on the stepsof the Stadhuis, for it is at the foot of these that three men werestanding precisely at the moment when the bell of the cathedral struckthe penultimate hour of the last day of the year 1623.
Mynheer van der Meer, Burgomaster of Haarlem, was coming down those samesteps in the company of Mynheer van Zilcken, Mynheer Beresteyn and otherworthy gentlemen, all members of the town council and all noted fortheir fine collections of rare tulips, the finest in the whole of theprovince of Holland.
There was great rivalry between Mynheer van der Meer, Mynheer vanZilcken and Mynheer Beresteyn on the subject of their tulip bulbs, onwhich they expended thousands of florins every year. Some people heldthat the Burgomaster had exhibited finer specimens of "Semper Augustus"than any horticulturist in the land, while others thought that the"Schwarzer Kato" shown by Mynheer Beresteyn had been absolutely withouta rival.
And as this group of noble councillors descended the steps of theStadhuis, preparatory to joining their wives at home and thenceescorting them to the watch-night service at the cathedral, their talkwas of tulips and of tulip bulbs, of the specimens which they possessedand the prices which they had paid for these.
"Fourteen thousand florins did I pay for my 'Schwarzer Kato,'" saidMynheer Beresteyn complacently, "and now I would not sell it for twentythousand."
"There's a man up at Overveen who has a new hybrid now, a sport of'Schone Juffrouw'--the bulb has matured to perfection, he is putting itup for auction next week," said Mynheer van Zilcken.
"It will fetch in the open market sixteen thousand at least," commentedMynheer van der Meer sententiously.
"I would give that for it and more," rejoined the other, "if it is asperfect as the man declares it to be."
"Too late," now interposed Mynheer Beresteyn with a curt laugh, "Ipurchased the bulb from the man at Overveen this afternoon. He did notexaggerate its merits. I never saw a finer bulb."
"You bought it?" exclaimed the Burgomaster in tones that were anythingbut friendly toward his fellow councillor.
"This very afternoon," replied the other. "I have it in the inner pocketof my doublet at this moment."
And he pressed his hand to his side, making sure that the precious bulbstill reposed next to his heart.
"I gave the lout fifteen thousand florins for it," he added airily, "hewas glad not to take the risks of an auction, and I equally glad tosteal a march on my friends."
The three men, who were leaning up against the wall of the Stadhuis, andwho had overheard this conversation, declared subsequently that theylearned then and there an entirely new and absolutely comprehensivestring of oaths, the sound of which they had never even known of before,from the two solemn and sober town-councillors who found themselvesbaulked of a coveted prize. But this I do not altogether believe; forthe three eavesdroppers had already forgotten more about swearing thanall the burghers of Haarlem put together had ever known.
In the meantime the town councillors had reached the foot of the steps:here they parted company and there was a marked coldness in the mannerof some of them toward Mynheer Beresteyn, who still pressed his handagainst his doublet, in the inner pocket of which reposed a bit ofdormant vegetation for which he had that same afternoon paid no less asum than fifteen thousand florins.
"There goes a lucky devil," said a mocking voice in tones whereinripples of laughter struggled for ever for mastery. It came from one ofthe three men who had listened to the conversation between thetown-councillors on the subject of tulips and of tulip bulbs.
"To think," he continued, "that I have never even seen as muchas fifteen thousand florins all at once. By St. Bavon himself doI swear that for the mere handling of so much money I would becapable of the most heroic deeds ... such as killing my worstenemy ... or ... or ... knocking that obese and self-complacentcouncillor in the stomach."
"Say but the word, good Diogenes," said a gruff voice in response, "thelucky devil ye speak of need not remain long in possession of that bulb.He hath name Beresteyn.... I think I know whereabouts he lives ... thehour is late ... the fog fairly dense in the narrow streets of thecity ... say but the word...."
"There is an honest man I wot of in Amsterdam," broke in a third voice,one which was curiously high-pitched and dulcet in its tones, "an honestdealer of Judaic faith, who would gladly give a couple of thousand forthe bulb and ask no impertinent questions."
"Say but the word, Diogenes ..." reiterated the gruff voice solemnly.
"And the bulb is ours," concluded the third speaker in his quainthigh-pitched voice.
"And three philosophers will begin the New Year with more money in theirwallets than they would know what to do with," said he of the
laughter-filled voice. "'Tis a sound scheme, O Pythagoras, and one thatunder certain circumstances would certainly commend itself to me. Butjust now...."
"Well?" queried the two voices--the gruff and thehigh-pitched--simultaneously, like a bassoon and a flute in harmony,"just now what?"
"Just now, worthy Socrates and wise Pythagoras, I have three wholeflorins in my wallet, and my most pressing creditor died a monthago--shot by a Spanish arquebuse at the storming of Breda--he fell likea hero--God rest his soul! But as to me I can afford a little while--atany rate for to-night--to act like a gentleman rather than a commonthief."
"Bah!" came in muffled and gruff tones of disgust, "you might lend methose three florins--'twere the act of a gentleman...."
"An act moreover which would effectually free me from further scruples,eh?" laughed the other gaily.
"The place is dull," interposed the flute-like tones, "'twill be dullerstill if unworthy scruples do cause us to act like gentlemen."
"Why! 'tis the very novelty of the game that will save our lives fromdullness," said Diogenes lightly, "just let us pretend to be gentlemenfor this one night. I assure you that good philosophers though ye bothare, you will find zest in the entertainment."
It is doubtful whether this form of argument would have app
ealed to thetwo philosophers in question. The point was never settled, for at thatprecise moment Chance took it on herself to forge the second link inthat remarkable chain of events which I have made it my duty to relate.
From across the Grootemarkt there, where stands the cathedral backed bya network of narrow streets, there came a series of ear-piercingshrieks, accompanied by threatening cries and occasional outbursts ofrough, mocking laughter.
"A row," said Socrates laconically.
"A fight," suggested Pythagoras.
Diogenes said nothing. He was already half-way across the Markt. Theothers followed him as closely as they could. His figure which wasunusually tall and broad loomed weirdly out of the darkness and out ofthe fog ahead of them, and his voice with that perpetual undertone ofmerriment rippling through it, called to them from time to time.
Now he stopped, waiting for his companions. The ear-piercing shrieks,the screams and mocking laughter came more distinctly to their ears, andfrom the several bye-streets that gave on the Market Place, people camehurrying along, attracted by the noise.
"Let us go round behind the Fleischmarkt," said Diogenes, as soon as histwo friends had come within ear-shot of him, "and reach the rear of thecathedral that way. Unless I am greatly mistaken the seat of yonderquarrel is by a small postern gate which I spied awhile ago at thecorner of Dam Straat and where methinks I saw a number of men and womenfurtively gaining admittance: they looked uncommonly like Papists andthe postern gate not unlike a Romanist chapel door."
"Then there undoubtedly will be a row," said Socrates dryly.
"And we are no longer likely to find the place dull," concludedPythagoras in a flute-like voice.
And the three men pulling their plumed hats well over their eyes, turnedoff without hesitation in the wake of their leader. They had by tacitunderstanding unsheathed their swords and were carrying them under thefolds of their mantles. They walked in single file, for the street wasvery narrow, the gabled roofs almost meeting overhead at their apex,their firm footsteps made no sound on the thick carpet of snow. Thestreet was quite deserted and the confused tumult in the Dam Straat onlycame now as a faint and distant echo.
Thus walking with rapid strides the three men soon found themselves oncemore close to the cathedral: it loomed out of the fog on their left andthe cries and the laughter on ahead sounded once more clear and shrill.
The words "for the love of Christ!" could be easily distinguished;uttered pleadingly at intervals and by a woman's voice they soundedominous, more especially as they were invariably followed by cries of"Spaniards! Spies! Papists!" and a renewal of loud and ribald laughter.
The leader of the little party had paused once more, his long legsevidently carried him away faster than he intended: now he turned to hisfriends and pointed with his hand and sword on ahead.
"Now, wise Pythagoras," he said, "wilt thou not have enjoyment and tospare this night? Thou didst shower curses on this fog-ridden country,and call it insufferably dull. Lo! what a pleasing picture doth presentitself to our gaze."
Whether the picture was pleasing or not depended entirely from the pointof view of spectator or participant. Certes it was animated and movingand picturesque; and as three pairs of eyes beneath three broad-brimmedhats took in its several details, three muffled figures uttered threesimultaneous gurgles of anticipated pleasure.
In the fog that hung thickly in the narrow street it was at firstdifficult to distinguish exactly what was going on. Certain it is that afairly dense crowd, which swelled visibly every moment as idlers joinedin from many sides, had congregated at the corner of Dam Straat, therewhere a couple of resin torches fixed in iron brackets against a tallstuccoed wall, shed a flickering and elusive light on the forms andfaces of a group of men in the forefront of the throng.
The faces thus exposed to view appeared flushed and heated--either withwine or ebullient temper--whilst the upraised arms, the clenched fistsand brandished staves showed a rampant desire to do mischief.
There was a low postern gate in the wall just below the resin torches.The gate was open and in the darkness beyond vague, moving forms couldbe seen huddled together in what looked like a narrow, unlightedpassage. It was from this huddled mass of humanity that the wails andcalls for divine protection proceeded, whilst the laughter and thethreats came from the crowd.
From beneath three broad-brimmed hats there once more came threedistinct chuckles of delight and three muffled figures hugged nakedswords more tightly under their cloaks.