CHAPTER XXXI
THE MOLENS
Less than half a league to the southeast of Ryswyk--there where theSchie makes a sharp curve up toward the north--there is a solitarywindmill--strange in this, that it has no companions near it, but standsquite alone with its adjoining miller's hut nestling close up against itlike a tiny chick beside the mother hen, and dominates the mud flats andlean pastures which lie for many leagues around.
On this day which was the fourth of the New Year, these mud flats andthe pasture land lay under a carpet of half-melted snow and ice whichseemed to render the landscape more weird and desolate, and the molensitself more deserted and solitary. Yet less than half a league away thepointed gables and wooden spires of Ryswyk break the monotony of thehorizon line and suggest the life and movement pertaining to a city,however small. But life and movement never seem to penetrate as far asthis molens; they spread their way out toward 'S Graven Hage and thesea.
Nature herself hath decreed that the molens shall remain solitary andcut off from the busy world, for day after day and night after night
throughout the year a mist rises from the mud flats around and envelopsthe molens as in a shroud. In winter the mist is frosty, in summer attimes it is faintly tinged with gold, but it is always there and throughit the rest of the living world--Ryswyk and 'S Graven Hage and Delftfurther away only appear as visions on the other side of a veil.
Just opposite the molens, some two hundred paces away to the east, thewaters of the Schie rush with unwonted swiftness round the curve; soswiftly in fact that the ice hardly ever forms a thick crust over them,and this portion of an otherwise excellent waterway is--in thewinter--impracticable for sleighs.
Beyond this bend in the river, however, less than half a league away,there is a wooden bridge, wide and strongly built, across which it isquite easy for men and beasts to pass who have come from the south anddesire to rejoin the great highway which leads from Delft to Leyden.
In the morning of that same fourth day in the New Year, two men sattogether in what was once the weighing-room of the molens; their furcoats were wrapped closely round their shoulders, for a keennorth-westerly wind had found its way through the chinks and cracks oftumble-down doors and ill-fitting window frames.
Though a soft powdery veil--smooth as velvet to the touch and made up offlour and fine dust-lay over everything, and the dry, sweet smell ofcorn still hung in the close atmosphere, there was little else in thisroom now that suggested the peaceful use for which it had beenoriginally intended.
The big weighing machines had been pushed into corners, and all roundthe sloping walls swords, cullivers and muskets were piled in orderlyarray, also a row of iron boxes standing a foot or so apart from oneanother and away from any other objects in the room.
The silence which reigned over the surrounding landscape did not findits kingdom inside this building, for a perpetual hum, a persistentbuzzing noise as of bees in their hives, filtrated through the floor andthe low ceiling of this room. Men moved and talked and laughed insidethe molens, but the movement and the laughter were subdued as if muffledin that same mantle of mist which covered the outside world.
The two men in the weighing-room were sitting at a table on which werescattered papers, inkhorns and pens, a sword, a couple of pistols andtwo or three pairs of skates. One of them was leaning forward andtalking eagerly:
"I think you can rest satisfied, my good Stoutenburg," he said, "ourpreparations leave nothing to be desired. I have just seen Jan, andtogether we have despatched the man Lucas van Sparendam to Delft. He isthe finest spy in the country, and can ferret out a plan or sift arumour quicker than any man I know. He will remain at Delft and keep thePrinzenhof under observation: and will only leave the city if anythinguntoward should happen, and then he will come straight here and reportto us. He is a splendid runner, and can easily cover the distancebetween Delft and this molens in an hour. That is satisfactory is itnot?"
"Quite," replied Stoutenburg curtly.
"Our arrangements here on the other hand are equally perfect,"resumed Beresteyn eagerly, "we have kept the whole thing in our ownhands ... Heemskerk and I will be at our posts ready to fire thegunpowder at the exact moment when the advance guard of the Prince'sescort will have gone over the bridge ... you, dagger in hand, will beprepared to make a dash for the carriage itself ... our men will attackthe scattered and confused guard at a word from van Does.... What couldbe more simple, more perfect than that? Yourself, Heemskerk, van Doesand I ... all of one mind ... all equally true, silent anddetermined.... You seem so restless and anxious.... Frankly I do notunderstand you."
"It is not of our preparations or of our arrangements that I amthinking, Nicolaes," said Stoutenburg sombrely, "these have been thoughtout well enough. Nothing but superhuman intervention or treachery cansave the Stadtholder--of that am I convinced. Neither God nor the devilcare to interfere in men's affairs--we need not therefore fearsuperhuman intervention. But 'tis the thought of treachery that hauntsme."
"Bah!" quoth Beresteyn with a shrug of the shoulders, "you have made anightmare of that thought. Treachery? there is no fear of treachery.Yourself, van Does, Heemskerk and I are the only ones who know anythingat this moment of our plans for to-morrow. Do you suspect van Does oftreachery, or Heemskerk, or me?"
"I was not thinking of Heemskerk or of van Does," rejoined Stoutenburg,"and even our men will know nothing of the attack until the last moment.Danger, friend, doth not lie in or around the molens; it lurks atRotterdam and hath name Gilda."
"Gilda! What can you fear from Gilda now?"
"Everything. Have you never thought on it, friend? Jan, remember, losttrack of that knave soon after he left Haarlem. At first he struckacross the waterways in a southerly direction and for awhile Jan and theothers were able to keep him in sight. But soon darkness settled in andalong many intricate backwaters our rogue was able to give them theslip."
"I know that," rejoined Beresteyn somewhat impatiently. "I was here inthe early morning when Jan reported to you. He also told you that he andhis men pushed on as far as Leyden that night and regained the road toRotterdam the following day. At Zegwaard and again at Zevenhuizen theyascertained that a party consisting of two women in a sledge and anescort of three cavaliers had halted for refreshments at those placesand then continued their journey southwards. Since then Jan has foundout definitely that Gilda and her escort arrived early last night at thehouse of Ben Isaje of Rotterdam, and he came straight on here to reportto you. Frankly I see nothing in all this to cause you so muchanxiety."
"You think then that everything is for the best?" asked Stoutenburggrimly, "you did not begin to wonder how it was that--as Jan ascertainedat Zegwaard and at Zevenhuizen--Gilda continued her journey without anyprotest. According to the people whom Jan questioned she looked sadcertainly, but she was always willing to restart on her way. What do youmake of that, my friend?"
Once more Beresteyn shrugged his shoulders.
"Gilda is proud," he said. "She hath resigned herself to her fate."
Stoutenburg laughed aloud.
"How little you--her own brother--know her," he retorted. "Gildaresigned? Gilda content to let events shape themselves--such events asthose which she heard us planning in the Groote Kerk on New Year's Eve?Why, my friend, Gilda will never be resigned, she will never be contentuntil she hath moved earth and heaven to save the Stadtholder from myavenging hand!"
"But what can she do now? Ben Isaje is honest in business matters. Itwould not pay him to play his customers false. And I have promised himtwo thousand guilders if he keeps her safely as a prisoner of war, noteven to be let out on parole. Ben Isaje would not betray me. He is tooshrewd for that."
"That may be true of Ben Isaje himself; but what of his wife? his sonsor daughters if he have any? his serving wenches, his apprentices andhis men? How do you know that they are not amenable to promises of heavybribes?"
"But even then...."
"Do you not think that at Rotterdam every one by
now knows the Prince'smovements? He passed within half a league of the town yesterday; thereis not a serving wench in that city at this moment who does not knowthat Maurice of Nassau slept at Delft last night and will startnorthwards to-morrow."
"And what of that?" queried Beresteyn, trying to keep up a semblance ofthat carelessness which he was far from feeling now.
"Do you believe then that Gilda will stay quietly in the house ofBen Isaje, knowing that the Prince is within four leagues of herdoor?... knowing that he will start northwards to-morrow ... knowingthat my headquarters are here--close to Ryswyk ... knowing in fact allthat she knows?"
"I had not thought on all that," murmured Beresteyn under his breath.
"And there is another danger too, friend, greater perhaps than anyother," continued Stoutenburg vehemently.
"Good G--d, Stoutenburg, what do you mean?"
"That cursed foreign adventurer----"
"What about him?"
"Have you then never thought of him as being amenable to a bribe fromGilda."
"In Heaven's name, man, do not think of such awful eventualities!"
"But we must think of them, my good Beresteyn. Events are shapingthemselves differently to what we expected. We must make preparationsfor our safety accordingly, and above all realise the fact that Gildawill move heaven and earth to thwart us in our plans."
"But she can do nothing," persisted Beresteyn sullenly, "withoutbetraying me. In Haarlem it was different. She might have spoken to myfather of what she knew, but she would not do so to a stranger, knowingthat with one word she can send me first and all of you afterwards tothe scaffold."
Stoutenburg with an exclamation of angry impatience brought his clenchedfist crashing down upon the table.
"Are you a child, Beresteyn," he cried hotly, "or are you wilfully blindto your danger and to mine? I tell you that Gilda will never allow me tokill the Prince of Orange without raising a finger to save him."
"But what can I do?"
"Send for Gilda at once, to-night," urged Stoutenburg, "convey her underescort hither ... in all deference ... in all honour ... she would behere under her brother's care."
"A woman in this place at such a moment," cried Beresteyn; "you are mad,Stoutenburg."
"I shall go mad if she is not here," rejoined the other more calmly,"the fear has entered into my soul, Nicolaes, that Gilda will yet betrayus at the eleventh hour. That fear is an obsession ... call itpremonition if you will, but it unmans me, friend."
Beresteyn was silent now. He drew his cloak closer round his shoulders,for suddenly he felt a chill which seemed to have crept into his bones.
"But it is unpractical, man," he persisted with a kind of sullendespair. "Gilda and another woman here ... to-morrow ... when not half aleague away...."
"Justice will be meted out to a tyrant and an assassin," broke inStoutenburg quietly. "Gilda is not a woman as other women are, though inher soul now she may be shrinking at the thought of this summaryjustice, she will be strong and brave when the hour comes. In any case,"he added roughly, "we can keep her closely guarded, and in the miller'shut, with the miller and his wife to look after her, she will be as safeand as comfortable as circumstances will allow. We should have her thenunder our own eyes and know that she cannot betray us."
As usual Beresteyn was already yielding to the stronger will, the morepowerful personality of his friend. His association with Stoutenburg hadgradually blunted his finer feelings; like a fly that is entangled inthe web of a spider, he tried to fight against the network of intrigueand of cowardice which hemmed him in more and more closely with everystep that he took along the path of crime. He was filled with remorse atthought of the wrong which he had done to Gilda, but he was no longerhis own master. He was being carried away by the tide of intrigue and bythe fear of discovery, away from his better self.
"You should have thought on all that sooner, Stoutenburg," he said infinal, feeble protest, "we need never have sent Gilda to Rotterdam inthe company of a foreign adventurer of whom we knew nothing."
"At the time it seemed simple enough," quoth Stoutenburg impatiently,"you suggested the house of Ben Isaje the banker and it seemed anexcellent plan. I did not think of distance then, and it is only sincewe arrived at Ryswyk that I realized how near all these places are toone another, and how easy it would be for Gilda to betray us even now."
Beresteyn was silent after that. It was easy to see that his friend'srestless anxiety was eating into his own soul. Stoutenburg watched himwith those hollow glowing eyes of his that seemed to send a magneticcurrent of strong will-power into the weaker vessel.
"Well! perhaps you are right," said Beresteyn at last, "perhaps you areright. After all," he added half to himself, "perhaps I shall feeleasier in my conscience when I have Gilda near me and feel that I can atleast watch over her."
Stoutenburg, having gained his point, jumped to his feet and drew a deepbreath of satisfaction.
"That's bravely said," he exclaimed. "Will you go yourself at once toRotterdam? with two or three of our most trusted men you could bringGilda here with absolute safety; you only need to make a slight detourwhen you near Delft so as to avoid the city. You could be here by sixo'clock this evening at the latest, and Jan in the meanwhile with acontingent of our stalwarts shall try and find that abominable plepshurkagain and bring him here too without delay."
"No, no," said Beresteyn quickly, "I'll not go myself. I could not bearto meet Gilda just yet. I will not have her think that I had a hand inher abduction and my presence might arouse her suspicions."
Stoutenburg laughed unconcernedly.
"You would rather that she thought I had instigated the deed. Well!" headded with a careless shrug, "my shoulders are broad enough to bear thebrunt of her wrath if she does. An you will not go yourself we will givefull instructions to Jan. He shall bring Gilda and her woman hither withdue respect and despatch, and lay the knave by the heels at the sametime. Ten or a dozen of our men or even more can easily be sparedto-day, there is really nothing for them to do, and they are best out ofmischief by being kept busy. Now while I go to give Jan his instructionsdo you write a letter to Ben Isaje, telling him that it is your wishthat Gilda should accompany the bearer of your sign-manual."
"But...."
"Tush, man!" exclaimed Stoutenburg impatiently, while a tone of contemptrang through his harsh voice, "you can so word the letter that even ifit were found it need not compromise you in any way. You might just havediscovered that your sister was in the hands of brigands, and be sendingan escort to rescue her; Gilda will be grateful to you then and ready tobelieve in you. Write what you like, but for God's sake write quickly.Every moment's delay drives me well-nigh distraught."
With jerky, feverish movements he pushed paper and inkhorn nearer toBeresteyn, who hesitated no longer and at once began to write.Stoutenburg went to the door and loudly called for Jan.
Ten minutes later the letter was written, folded and delivered intoJan's keeping, who was standing at attention and recapitulating theorders which had been given him.
"I take a dozen men with me," he said slowly, "and we follow the courseof the Schie as far as Rotterdam. Fortunately it is passable practicallythe whole of the way."
Stoutenburg nodded in approval.
"I present this letter to Mynheer Ben Isaje, the banker," continued Jan,"and ask him at once to apprise the jongejuffrouw that she deign toaccompany us."
"Yes. That is right," quoth Stoutenburg, "but remember that I want youabove all things to find that foreigner again. You said that he wassleeping last night in Mynheer Ben Isaje's house."
"So I understood, my lord."
"Well! you must move heaven and earth to find him, Jan. I want himhere--a prisoner--remember! Do not let him slip through your fingersthis time. It might mean life or death to us all. By fair means or foulyou must lay him by the heels."
"It should not be difficult, my lord," assented Jan quietly. "I willpick my men, and I have no doubt that we shall come across
the foreignersomewhere in the neighbourhood. He cannot have gone far, and even if heleft the city we will easily come on his track."
"That's brave, Jan. Then come straight back here; two or three of yourmen can in the meanwhile escort the jongejuffrouw, who will travel bysledge. You must avoid Delft of course, and make a detour there."
"I had best get horses at Rotterdam, my lord; the sledge can follow theleft bank of the Schie all the way, which will be the best means ofavoiding Delft."
"And remember," concluded Stoutenburg in his most peremptory manner,"that you must all be back here before ten o'clock to-night. Thejongejuffrouw first and you with the foreigner later. It is not muchmore than eight o'clock now; you have the whole day before you. Let thesledge pull up outside the miller's hut, everything will be ready thereby then for the jongejuffrouw's reception; and let your watchwords be'Silence, discretion, speed!'--you understand?"
"I understand, my lord," replied Jan simply as he gave a militarysalute, then quietly turned on his heel and went out of the room.
The two friends were once more alone, straining their ears to catchevery sound which came to them now from below. Muffled and enveloped inthe mist, the voice of Jan giving brief words of command could bedistinctly heard, also the metallic click of skates and the tramping ofheavily-booted feet upon the ground. But ten minutes later all thesesounds had died away. Jan and his men had gone to fetch Gilda--the poorlittle pawn moved hither and thither by the ruthless and ambitious handsof men.
Beresteyn had buried his head in his hands, in a sudden fit ofoverpowering remorse. Stoutenburg looked on him silently for awhile, hishaggard face appeared drawn and sunken in the pale grey light whichfound its way through the tiny window up above. Passion greater thanthat which broke down the spirit of his friend, was tearing at hisheart-strings; ambition fought with love, and remorse withdetermination. But through it all the image of Gilda flitted before hisburning eyes across this dimly-lighted room, reproachful and sweet andtantalizingly beautiful. The desire to have her near him in the greatesthour of his life on the morrow, had been the true mainspring which hadprompted him to urge Beresteyn to send for her. It seemed to him thatGilda's presence would bring him luck in his dark undertaking so heavilyfraught with crime, and with a careless shrug of the shoulders he wasready to dismiss all thoughts of the wrong which he had done her, infavour of his hopes, his desire, his certainty that a glorious future inhis arms would compensate her for all that he had caused her to endure.