LYSBETH, H. RIDER HAGGARD [brene brown rising strong txt] 📗

lines and spots upon the links caused in past years by the cutting edge of swords and the points of daggers. Yet never a one of those links was severed or broken.

"I pray that it may stand them again if your body be inside of it," said Lysbeth. "Yet, son, remember always that there is One who can guard you better than any human mail however perfect," and she left the room.

Then Foy drew on the coat over his woollen jersey, and it fitted him well, though not so well as in after years, when he had grown thicker. Indeed, when his linen shirt and his doublet were over it none could have guessed that he was clothed in armour of proof.

"It isn't fair, Martin," he said, "that I should be wrapped in steel and you in nothing."

Martin smiled. "Do you take me for a fool, master," he said, "who have seen some fighting in my day, private and public? Look here," and, opening his leathern jerkin, he showed that he was clothed beneath in a strange garment of thick but supple hide.

"Bullskin," said Martin, "tanned as we know how up in Friesland. Not as good as yours, but will turn most cuts or arrows. I sat up last night making one for you, it was almost finished before, but the steel is cooler and better for those who can afford it. Come, let us go and eat; we should be at the gates at eight when they open."

CHAPTER XIII(MOTHER'S GIFTS ARE GOOD GIFTS)

 

At a few minutes to eight that morning a small crowd of people had gathered in front of the Witte Poort at Leyden waiting for the gate to be opened. They were of all sorts, but country folk for the most part, returning to their villages, leading mules and donkeys slung with empty panniers, and shouting greetings through the bars of the gate to acquaintances who led in other mules laden with vegetables and provisions. Among these stood some priests, saturnine and silent, bent, doubtless, upon dark business of their own. A squad of Spanish soldiers waited also, the insolence of the master in their eyes; they were marching to some neighbouring city. There, too, appeared Foy van Goorl and Red Martin, who led a pack mule; Foy dressed in the grey jerkin of a merchant, but armed with a sword and mounted on a good mare; Martin riding a Flemish gelding that nowadays would only have been thought fit for the plough, since no lighter-boned beast could carry his weight. Among these moved a dapper little man, with sandy whiskers and sly face, asking their business and destination of the various travellers, and under pretence of guarding against the smuggling of forbidden goods, taking count upon his tablets of their merchandise and baggage.

Presently he came to Foy.

"Name?" he said, shortly, although he knew him well enough.

"Foy van Goorl and Martin, his father's servant, travelling to The Hague with specimens of brassware, consigned to the correspondents of our firm," answered Foy, indifferently.

"You are very glib," sneered the sandy-whiskered man; "what is the mule laden with? It may be Bibles for all I know."

"Nothing half so valuable, master," replied Foy; "it is a church chandelier in pieces."

"Unpack it and show me the pieces," said the officer.

Foy flushed with anger and set his teeth, but Martin, administering to him a warning nudge in the ribs, submitted with prompt obedience.

It was a long business, for each arm of the chandelier had been carefully wrapped in hay bands, and the official would not pass them until every one was undone, after which they must be done up again. While the pair of them were engaged upon this tedious and unnecessary task, two fresh travellers arrived at the gate, a long, bony person, clothed in a priest-like garb with a hood that hid the head, and a fierce, dissolute-looking individual of military appearance and armed to the teeth. Catching sight of young van Goorl and his servant, the long person, who seemed to ride very awkwardly with legs thrust forward, whispered something to the soldier man, and they passed on without question through the gate.

When Foy and Martin followed them twenty minutes later, they were out of sight, for the pair were well mounted and rode hard.

"Did you recognise them?" asked Martin so soon as they were clear of the crowd.

"No," said Foy; "who are they?"

"The papist witch, Black Meg, dressed like a man, and the fellow who came here from The Hague yesterday, whither they are going to report that the Heer Adrian routed them, and that the Broekhovens with the Jufvrouw Elsa got through unsearched."

"What does it all mean, Martin?"

"It means, master, that we shall have a warm welcome yonder; it means that some one guesses we know about this treasure, and that we shan't get the stuff away without trouble."

"Will they waylay us?"

Martin shrugged his shoulders as he answered, "It is always well to be ready, but I think not. Coming back they may waylay us, not going. Our lives are of little use without the money; also they cannot be had for the asking."

Martin was right, for travelling slowly they reached the city without molestation, and, riding to the house of Dirk's correspondent, put up their horses; ate, rested, delivered the sample chandelier, and generally transacted the business which appeared to be the object of their journey. In the course of conversation they learned from their host that things were going very ill here at The Hague for all who were supposed to favour the New Religion. Tortures, burnings, abductions, and murders were of daily occurrence, nor were any brought to judgment for these crimes. Indeed, soldiers, spies, and government agents were quartered on the citizens, doing what they would, and none dared to lift a hand against them. Hendrik Brant, they heard also, was still at large and carrying on business as usual in his shop, though rumour said that he was a marked man whose time would be short.

Foy announced that they would stay the night, and a little after sunset called to Martin to accompany him, as he wished to walk in the Broad Street to see the sights of the town.

"Be careful, Mynheer Foy," said their host in warning, "for there are many strange characters about, men and women. Oh! yes, this mere is full of pike, and fresh bait is snapped up sharply."

"We will be wary," replied Foy, with the cheerful air of a young man eager for excitement. "Hague pike don't like Leyden perch, you know; they stick in their throats."

"I hope so, I hope so," said the host, "still I pray you be careful. You will remember where to find the horses if you want them; they are fed and I will keep them saddled. Your arrival here is known, and for some reason this house is being watched."

Foy nodded and they started out; Foy going first, and Red Martin, staring round him like a bewildered bumpkin, following at his heel, with his great sword, which was called Silence, girt about his middle, and hidden as much as possible beneath his jerkin.

"I wish you wouldn't look so big, Martin," Foy whispered over his shoulder; "everybody is staring at you and that red beard of yours, which glows like a kitchen fire."

"I can't help it, master," said Martin, "my back aches with stooping as it is, and, as for the beard, well, God made it so."

"At least you might dye it," answered Foy; "if it were black you would be less like a beacon on a church tower."

"Another day, master; it is a long business dyeing a beard like mine; I think it would be quicker to cut it off." Then he stopped, for they were in the Broad Street.

Here they found many people moving to and fro, but although the company were so numerous it was difficult to distinguish them, for no moon shone, and the place was lighted by lanterns set up on poles at long distances from each other. Foy could see, however, that they were for the most part folk of bad character, disreputable women, soldiers of the garrison, half-drunk sailors from every country, and gliding in and out among them all, priests and other observers of events. Before they had been long in the crowd a man stumbled against Foy rudely, at the same time telling him to get out of the path. But although his blood leapt at the insult and his hand went to his sword hilt, Foy took no notice, for he understood at once that it was sought to involve him in a quarrel. Next a woman accosted him, a gaily-dressed woman, but she had no bow upon her shoulder, so Foy merely shook his head and smiled. For the rest of that walk, however, he was aware that this woman was watching him, and with her a man whose figure he could not distinguish, for he was wrapped in a black cloak.

Thrice did Foy, followed by Martin, thus promenade the right side of the Broad Street, till he was heartily weary of the game indeed, and began to wonder if his cousin Brant's plans had not miscarried.

As he turned for the fourth time his doubts were answered, for he found himself face to face with a small woman who wore upon her shoulder a large red bow, and was followed by another woman, a buxom person dressed in a peasant's cap. The lady with the red bow, making pretence to stumble, precipitated herself with an affected scream right into his arms, and as he caught her, whispered, "Are you from Leyden, sweetheart?" "Yes." "Then treat me as I treat you, and follow always where I lead. First make pretence to be rid of me."

As she finished whispering Foy heard a warning stamp from Martin, followed by the footsteps of the pair who he knew were watching them, which he could distinguish easily, for here at the end of the street there were fewer people. So he began to act as best he could--it was not very well, but his awkwardness gave him a certain air of sincerity.

"No, no," he said, "why should I pay for your supper? Come, be going, my good girl, and leave me and my servant to see the town in peace."

"Oh! Mynheer, let me be your guide, I beg you," answered she of the red bow clasping her hands and looking up into his face. Just then he heard the first woman who had accosted him speaking to her companion in a loud voice.

"Look," she said, "Red Bow is trying her best. Ah! my dear, do you think that you'll get a supper out of a holy Leyden ranter, or a skin off an eel for the asking?"

"Oh! he isn't such a selfish fish as he looks," answered Red Bow over her shoulder, while her eyes told Foy that it was his turn to play.

So he played to the best of his ability, with the result that ten minutes later any for whom the sight had interest might have observed a yellow-haired young gallant and a black-haired young woman walking down the Broad Street with their arms affectionately disposed around each other's middles.