II
The Stadtholder arrived in the course of the morning. Mynheer Beresteyn did not receive him on the doorstep, as he would have done had the visit been an open one. As it was, the passersby on the busy quay did not bestow more than a passing glance on the plainly clad cavalier who swung himself out of the saddle outside the burgomaster’s house. A message from the camp, probably, they thought. Mynheer Nicolaes had been backward and forward from Utrecht several times these past two or three days. The burgomaster awaited his exalted guest in the hall. His attitude and the expression of his face were alike pregnant with eager questionings. The Stadtholder gave curt acknowledgement to the greetings of Mynheer Beresteyn, of his family, and of his friends, and then strode deliberately into the banqueting-hall.
It looked vast and deserted at this early hour of a winter’s morning. Nothing of the animation, the riotous gaiety of that day, less that a week ago, seemed to linger in its sombre, panelled walls. The dais upon which the brides and bridegrooms and the wedding party had sat, and which had crowned so brilliant a spectacle, had been removed, and the magnificent gold and silver plate, the fine linens and priceless crystals been carefully stowed away. Serving-men and sweepers were busy airing and dusting the room when the door was thrown open, and His Highness came in, ushered in by his host. They fled at sight of these great gentlemen, like so many rabbits into carefully hidden burrows.
The Stadtholder went up to the long centre table and faced Mynheer Beresteyn and those who had come in with him—the members of his family and half a dozen burghers, men of importance in the little city. Everyone could see that His Highness’s anger was bitter against them all. “And so, mynheer,” he began curtly, and in tones of marked irritation, and addressing himself more particularly to the burgomaster, “you have thought fit to defy my orders.”
“Your Highness!” protested Mynheer Beresteyn.
“Yet they were clear enough,” the Stadtholder went on, not heeding the interruption. “Or did your son Nicolaes fail to explain?”
“He told us, your Highness, that it was feared the armies of the Archduchess had crossed the Ijssel—”
“The armies of the Archduchess crossed the Ijssel three days ago,” Maurice of Nassau broke in impatiently. “Since then they have overrun Gelderland and occupied Ede, putting that city to fire and sword.”
There came a sound like the catching of breath, the rise of a gasp of horror and anguish in everyone’s throat. But it was quickly suppressed, and His Highness was listened to in silence until the end. Even now, when he paused, no one spoke. All eyes were cast to the ground in self-centered meditation. The whole thing had come as a thunderbolt out of a cloudless sky. Ede had always seemed so safe, so remote. A little city which led nowhere save to the Zuyder Zee, and in the very heart of the United Provinces. What could be the motive of the Archduchess’s commanders to adventure thus far into a country which was so universally hostile to them, even to the most miserable peasant, who would pollute every well and stream rather than see the enemy overrun the land?
But all these men—ay, and the women, too—had seen so much, suffered so much; fire and sword were such familiar dangers before their eyes, that for them the time had gone when sighs and lamentations would ease their overburdened hearts. They had learned to receive every fresh blow from God’s hands in silence, but with determination to fight on, to fight again and to the death once more, if need be, for their liberties, their rights, and the welfare of their children. It was indeed Mynheer Beresteyn who took the next words out of the Stadtholder’s mouth.
“Then Amersfoort, too, is threatened?” he said simply.
The prince nodded.
“Think you,” he retorted, “that I would have ordered the evacuation of the town had there not been imperative necessity for such a course? Now, you may pray God that your wilful disobedience hath not placed your city in jeopardy.”
“ ’Twas but yesterday we had the order,” one of the burghers urged. “And—”
“ ’Twas yesterday it should have been obeyed,” the Stadtholder broke in roughly. “You would then have saved me a perilous journey, for the country already is infested with spies and vedettes, outposts of the Spanish armies.”
“We are all ready to guard your Highness with our lives,” the burgomaster said quietly.
“ ’Tis your wits I want, mynheer,” the prince riposted dryly, “not your blood. Indeed, I do fear that Amersfoort is threatened, though I know not if De Berg will spend his forces on you, or, rather, concentrate them on Arnheim. But you must be prepared,” he added with stern emphasis.
“You are not in a position to defend yourselves, and I cannot detach any of my troops to come to your assistance if you are attacked. Therefore, my orders were: ‘Evacuate the town.’ You, mynheer burgomaster, must issue your proclamation at once. Let everyone go who can, taking women and children with them. Those who remain do so at their risk. Some of you can go north to Amsterdam, others west to Utrecht. Let De Berg find an empty shell when he comes.”