CHAPTER XXXIII
THE CAPTIVE LION
Beresteyn was sitting at the table in the weighing-room of the molens:his elbows rested on the table, and his right hand supported his head;in the feeble light of the lanthorn placed quite close to him, his facelooked sullen and dark, and his eyes, overshadowed by his frowningbrows, were fixed with restless eagerness upon the narrow door.
Stoutenburg, with hands crossed over his chest, with head bare andcollar impatiently torn away from round his neck, was pacing up and downthe long, low room like a caged beast of prey.
"Enter!" he shouted impatiently in response to a loud knock on the door.Then as Jan entered, and having saluted, remained standing by the door,he paused in his feverish walk, and asked in a curiously hoarse voice,choked with anxiety:
"Is everything all right, Jan?"
"Everything, my lord."
"The jongejuffrouw?..."
"In the hut, my lord. There is a good fire there and the woman ispreparing some hot supper for the lady."
"How does she seem?"
"She stepped very quietly out of the sledge, my lord, the moment I toldher that we had arrived. She asked no questions, and walked straightinto the hut. Meseemed that the jongejuffrouw knew exactly where shewas."
"The woman will look after her comforts well?"
"Oh, yes, my lord, though she is only a rough peasant, she will try anddo her best, and the jongejuffrouw has her own waiting woman with her aswell."
"And the horses?"
"In the shed behind the hut."
"Look after them well, Jan: we may want to use them again to-morrow."
"They shall be well looked after, my lord."
"And you have placed the sentry outside the hut?"
"Two men in the front and two in the rear, as you have commanded, mylord."
Stoutenburg drew a deep breath of satisfaction: but anxiety seemed tohave exhausted him, for now that his questions had been clearlyanswered, he sank into a chair.
"All well, Nicolaes," he said more calmly as he placed a re-assuringhand upon his friend's shoulder.
But Nicolaes groaned aloud.
"Would to God," he said, "that all were well!"
Smothering an impatient retort Stoutenburg once more turned to Jan.
"And what news of the foreigner?" he queried eagerly.
"We have got him, my lord," replied Jan.
"By G--d!" exclaimed Stoutenburg, "how did you do it?"
His excitement was at fever pitch now. He was leaning forward, and hisattitude was one of burning expectancy. His hollow eyes were fixed uponJan's lips as if they would extract from them the glad news which theyheld. Whatever weakness there was in Stoutenburg's nature, one thing inhim was strong--and that was hatred. He could hate with an intensity ofpassion worthy of a fine cause. He hated the Stadtholder first, andsecondly the nameless adventurer who had humiliated him and forced himto lick the dust: wounded in his vanity and in his arrogance he wasconsumed with an inordinate desire for revenge. The hope that thisrevenge was now at last in sight--that the man whom he hated sodesperately was now in his power--almost caused the light of mania todance in his glowing eyes.
"How did you do it, Jan?" he reiterated hoarsely.
"It was not far from the molens," said Jan simply, "until then he gaveus the slip, though we spied him just outside Delft on our way toRotterdam this morning. My impression is that he went back to Rotterdamthen, and that he followed the jongejuffrouw's sledge practically allthe way. Close to the molens he was forced to draw a little nearer as itwas getting very dark and probably he did not know his way about. I amconvinced that he wished to ascertain exactly whither we were taking thejongejuffrouw. At any rate, I and some of our fellows who had lagged inthe rear caught sight of him then...."
"And you seized him?" cried Stoutenburg with exultant joy.
"He was alone, my lord," replied Jan with a placid smile, "and therewere seven of us at the time. Two or three of the men, though, are evennow nursing unpleasant wounds. I myself fared rather badly with abruised head and half-broken collar-bone.... The man is a demon forfighting, but there were seven of us."
"Well done, Jan!" cried Beresteyn now, for Stoutenburg had becomespeechless with the delight of this glorious news; "and what did you dowith the rogue?"
"We tied him securely with ropes and dragged him along with us. Oh! wemade certain of him, my lord, you may be sure of that. And now I andanother man have taken him down into the basement below and we havefastened him to one of the beams, where I imagine the north-west windwill soon cool his temper."
"Aye, that it will!" quoth Stoutenburg lustily. "Take the lanthorn, Jan,and let us to him at once. Beresteyn, friend, will you come too? Yourhand like mine must be itching to get at the villain's face."
The two men took good care to wrap their cloaks well round their
shoulders and to pull their fur caps closely round their ears. Thusmuffled up against the bitterness of the night, they went out of themolens, followed by Jan, who carried the lanthorn.
Outside the door, steep, ladder-like steps led to the ground. The placereferred to by Jan as "the basement" was in reality the skeletonfoundations on which the molens rested. These were made up of hugebeams--green and slimy with age, and driven deep down into the muddyflat below. Ten feet up above, the floor of the molens sat toweringaloft. Darkness like pitch reigned on this spot, but as Jan swung hislanthorn along, the solid beams detached themselves one by one out ofthe gloom, their ice-covered surface reflected the yellow artificiallight, and huge icicles of weird and fantastic shapes like giant armsand fingers stretched out hung down from the transverse bars and fromthe wooden framework of the molens above.
To one of the upright beams a man was securely fastened with ropes woundround about his body. His powerful muscles were straining against thecords which tied his arms behind his back. A compassionate hand had puthis broad-brimmed hat upon his head, to protect his ears and noseagainst the frost, but his mighty chest was bare, for doublet and shirthad been torn in the reckless fight which preceded final capture.
Jan held up the lanthorn and pointed out to my lord the prisoner whom hewas so proud to have captured. The light fell upon the pinioned figure,splendid in its air of rebellious helplessness. Here was a man,momentarily conquered it is true, but obviously not vanquished, andthough the ropes now cut into his body, though the biting wind lashedhis bare chest, and dark stains showed upon his shirt, the spirit withinwas as free and untrammelled as ever--the spirit of independence and ofadventure which is willing to accept the knockdown blows of fate asreadily and cheerfully as her favours.
Despite the torn shirt and the ragged doublet there was yet an air ofswagger about the whole person of the man, swagger that became almostinsolent as the Lord of Stoutenburg approached. He threw back his headand looked his sworn enemy straight in the face, his eyes were laughingstill, and a smile of cool irony played round his lips.
"Well done, Jan!" quoth Stoutenburg with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
He was standing with arms akimbo and legs wide apart, enjoying to thefull the intense delight of gazing for awhile in silence on hisdiscomfited enemy.
"Ah! but it is good," he said at last, "to look upon a helpless rogue."
"'Tis a sight then," retorted the prisoner lightly, "which yourMagnificence hath often provided for your friends and your adherents."
"Bah!" rejoined Stoutenburg, who was determined to curb his temper if hecould, "your insolence now, my man, hath not the power to anger me. Itstrikes me as ludicrous--even pathetic in its senselessness. An I werein your unpleasant position, I would try by submission to earn a slightmeasure of leniency from my betters."
"No doubt you would, my lord," quoth Diogenes dryly, "but you see I haveup to now not yet come across my betters. When I do, I may take youradvice."
"Verdommte Keerl! What say you, Beresteyn," added Stoutenburg turning to
his friend, "shall we leave him here to-night to cool his impudence, wecan
always hang him to-morrow."
Beresteyn made no immediate reply, his face was pale and haggard, andhis glance--shifty and furtive--seemed to avoid that of the prisoner.
"You must see that the fellow is well guarded, Jan," resumed Stoutenburgcurtly, "give him some food, but on no account allow him the slightestfreedom."
"My letters to Ben Isaje," murmured Beresteyn, as Stoutenburg alreadyturned to go. "Hath he perchance got them by him still?"
"The letters! yes! I have forgotten!" said the other. "Search him, Jan!"he commanded.
Jan put down the lanthorn and then proceeded to lay rough hands upon thecaptive philosopher; he had a heavy score to pay off against him--anaching collar-bone and a bruised head, and the weight of a powerful fistto avenge. He was not like to be gentle in his task. He tore at theprisoner's doublet and in his search for a hidden pocket he disclosed anugly wound which had lacerated the shoulder.
"Some of us took off our skates," he remarked casually, "and brought himdown with them. The blades were full sharp, and we swung them by theirstraps; they made excellent weapons thus; the fellow should have morethan one wound about him."
"Three, my good Jan, to be quite accurate," said Diogenes calmly, "butall endurable. I had ten about me outside Prague once, but the fellowsthere were fighting better than you, and in a worthier cause."
Jan's rough hands continued their exhaustive search; a quickly smotheredgroan from the prisoner caused Stoutenburg to laugh.
"That sound," he said, "was music to mine ear."
Jan now drew a small leather wallet and a parchment roll both from thewide flap of the prisoner's boot. Stoutenburg pounced upon the wallet,and Beresteyn with eager anxiety tore the parchment out of Jan's hand.
"It is the formal order to Ben Isaje," he said, "to pay over the moneyto this knave. Is there anything else, Jan?" he continued excitedly, "athinner paper?--shaped like a letter?"
"Nothing else, mynheer," replied Jan.
"Did you then deliver my letter to Ben Isaje, fellow?" queried Beresteynof the prisoner.
"My friend Jan should be able to tell you that," he replied, "hath henot been searching the very folds of my skin."
In the meanwhile Stoutenburg had been examining the contents of thewallet.
"Jewellery belonging to the jongejuffrouw," he said dryly, "which thisrogue hath stolen from her. Will you take charge of them, Nicolaes? Andhere," he added, counting out a few pieces of gold and silver, "is someof your own money."
He made as if he would return this to Beresteyn, then a new idea seemedto strike him, for he put all the money back into the wallet and said toJan:
"Put this wallet back where you found it, Jan, and, Nicolaes," he addedturning back to his friend, "will you allow me to look at that bond?"
While Jan obeyed and replaced the wallet in the flap of the prisoner'sboot, Beresteyn handed the parchment to Stoutenburg. The latter thenordered Jan to hold up the lanthorn so that by its light he might readthe writing.
This he did, twice over, with utmost attention; after which he tore offvery carefully a narrow strip from the top of the document.
"Now," he said quietly, "this paper, wherever found, cannot compromiseyou in any way, Nicolaes. The name of Ben Isaje who alone could tracethe cypher signature back to you, we will scatter to the winds."
And he tore the narrow strip which he had severed from the documentinto infinitesimal fragments, which he then allowed the wind to snatchout of his hand and to whirl about and away into space. But the documentitself he folded up with ostentatious care.
"What do you want with that?" asked Beresteyn anxiously.
"I don't know yet, but it might be very useful," replied the other. "Somany things may occur within the next few days that such an ambiguouslyworded document might prove of the utmost value."
"But ... the signature ..." urged Beresteyn, "my father...."
"The signature, you told me, friend, is one that you use in the ordinaryway of business whilst the wording of the document in itself cannotcompromise you in any way; it is merely a promise to pay for servicesrendered. Leave this document in my keeping; believe me, it is quitesafe with me and might yet be of incalculable value to us. One neverknows."
"No! one never does know," broke in the prisoner airily, "for of a truthwhen there's murder to be done, pillage or outrage, the Lord ofStoutenburg never knows what other infamy may come to his hand."
"Insolent knave!" exclaimed Stoutenburg hoarsely, as with a cry ofunbridled fury he suddenly raised his arm and with the parchment rollwhich he held, he struck the prisoner savagely in the face.
"Take care, Stoutenburg," ejaculated Beresteyn almost involuntarily.
"Take care of what," retorted the other with a harsh laugh, "the fellowis helpless, thank God! and I would gladly break my riding whip acrosshis impudent face."
He was livid and shaking with fury. Beresteyn--honestly fearing that inhis blind rage he would compromise his dignity before hissubordinates--dragged him by the arm away from the presence of this manwhom he appeared to hate with such passionate intensity.
Stoutenburg, obdurate at first, almost drunk with his own fury, tried tofree himself from his friend's grasp. He wanted to lash the man he hatedonce more in the face, to gloat for awhile longer on the sight of hisenemy now completely in his power. But all around in the gloom heperceived figures that moved; the soldiers and mercenaries placed at hisdisposal by his friends were here in numbers: some of them had been puton guard over the prisoner by Jan, and others had joined them, attractedby loud voices.
Stoutenburg had just enough presence of mind left in him to realize thatthe brutal striking of a defenceless prisoner would probably horrifythese men, who were fighters and not bullies, and might even cause themto turn from their allegiance to him.
So with desperate effort he pulled himself together and contrived togive with outward calm some final orders to Jan.
"See that the ropes are securely fastened, Jan," he said, "leave half adozen men on guard, then follow me."
But to Beresteyn, who had at last succeeded in dragging him away fromthis spot, he said loudly:
"You do not know, Nicolaes, what a joy it is to me to be even with thatfellow at last."
A prolonged laugh, that had a note of triumph in it, gave answer to thistaunt, whilst a clear voice shouted lustily:
"Nay! we never can be quite even, my lord; since you were not trussedlike a capon when I forced you to lick the dust."