Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch by H. Rider Haggard (fantasy books to read txt) 📕

First, Red Martin must be found, then his sword must be taken, which, I think, will cost men their lives. Dear lady, I am obliged for your information, but I fear that the marriage must still go through.”

“You swore, you swore,” she gasped, “you swore before God!”

“Quite so, and I shall leave—the Power you refer to—to manage the matter. Doubtless He can attend to His own affairs—I must attend to mine. I hope that about seven o’clock this evening will suit you, by which time the priest and—a bridegroom will be ready.”

Then Elsa broke down.

“Devil!” she cried in the torment of her despair. “To save my honour I have betrayed my father’s trust; I have betrayed the secret for which Martin was ready to die by torment, and given him over to be hunted like a wild beast. Oh! God forgive me, and God help me!”

“Doubtless, dear young lady, He will do the first, for your temptations were really considerable; I, who have more experience, outwitted you, that was all. Possibly, also, He may do the second, though many have uttered that cry unheard. For my own sake, I trust that He was sleeping when you uttered yours. But it is your affair and His; I leave it to be arranged between you. Till this evening, Jufvrouw,” and he bowed himself from the room.

But Elsa, shamed and broken-hearted, threw herself upon the bed and wept.

At mid-day she arose, hearing upon the stair the step of the woman who brought her food, and to hide her tear-stained face went to the barred lattice and looked out. The scene was dismal indeed, for the wind had veered suddenly, the snow had ceased, and in place of it rain was falling with a steady persistence. When the woman had gone, Elsa washed her face, and although her appetite turned from it, ate of the food, knowing how necessary it was that she should keep her strength.

Another hour passed, and there came a knock on the door. Elsa shuddered, for she thought that Ramiro had returned to torment her. Indeed it was almost a relief when, instead of him, appeared his son. One glance at Adrian’s nervous, shaken face, yes, and even the sound of his uncertain step brought hope to her heart. Her woman’s instinct told her that now she had no longer to do with the merciless and terrible Ramiro, to whose eyes she was but a pretty pawn in a game that he must win, but with a young man who loved her, and whom she held, therefore, at a disadvantage—with one, moreover, who was harassed and ashamed, and upon whose conscience, therefore, she might work. She turned upon him, drawing herself up, and although she was short and Adrian was tall, of a sudden he felt as though she towered over him.

“Your pleasure?” asked Elsa.

In the old days Adrian would have answered with some magnificent compliment, or far-fetched simile lifted from the pages of romancers. In truth he had thought of several such while, like a half-starved dog seeking a home, he wandered round and round the mill-house in the snow. But he was now far beyond all rhetoric or gallantries.

“My father wished,” he began humbly—“I mean that I have come to speak to you about—our marriage.”

Of a sudden Elsa’s delicate features seemed to turn to ice, while, to his fancy at any rate, her brown eyes became fire.

“Marriage,” she said in a strange voice. “Oh! what an unutterable coward you must be to speak that word. Call what is proposed by any foul title which you will, but at least leave the holy name of marriage undefiled.”

“It is not my fault,” he answered sullenly, but shrinking beneath her words. “You know, Elsa, that I wished to wed you honourably enough.”

“Yes,” she broke in, “and because I would not listen, because you do not please me, and you could not win me as a man wins a maid, you—you laid a trap and kidnapped me, thinking to get by brute force that which my heart withheld. Oh! in all the Netherlands lives there another such an abject as Adrian called van Goorl, the base-born son of Ramiro the galley slave?”

“I have told you that it is false,” he replied furiously. “I had nothing to do with your capture. I knew nothing of it till I saw you here.”

Elsa laughed a very bitter laugh. “Spare your breath,” she said, “for if you swore it before the face of the recording Angel I would not believe you. Remember that you are the man who betrayed your brother and your benefactor, and then guess, if you can, what worth I put upon your words.”

In the bitterness of his heart Adrian groaned aloud, and from that groan Elsa, listening eagerly, gathered some kind of hope.

“Surely,” she went on, with a changed and softened manner, “surely you will not do this wickedness. The blood of Dirk van Goorl lies on your head; will you add mine to his? For be sure of this, I swear it by my Maker, that before I am indeed a wife to you I shall be dead—or mayhap you will be dead, or both of us. Do you understand?”

“I understand, but——”

“But what? Where is the use of this wickedness? For your soul’s sake, refuse to have aught to do with such a sin.”

“But if so, my father will marry you.”

It was a chance arrow, but it went home, for of a sudden Elsa’s strength and eloquence seemed to leave her. She ran to him with her hands clasped, she flung herself upon her knees.

“Oh! help me to escape,” she moaned, “and I will bless you all my life.”

“It is impossible,” he answered. “Escape from this guarded place, through those leagues of melting snow? I tell you that it is impossible.”

“Then,” and her eyes grew wild, “then kill him and free me. He is a devil, he is your evil genius; it would be a righteous deed. Kill him and free me.”

“I should like to,” answered Adrian; “I nearly did once, but, for my soul’s sake, I can’t put a sword through my own father; it is the most horrible of crimes. When I confessed——”

“Then,” she broke in, “if this farce, this infamy must be gone through, swear at least that you will treat it as such, that you will respect me.”

“It is a hard thing to ask of a husband who loves you more than any woman in the world,” he answered turning aside his head.

“Remember,” she went on, with another flash of defiant spirit, “that if you do not, you will soon love me better than any woman out of the world, or perhaps we shall both settle what lies between us before the Judgment Seat of God. Will you swear?”

He hesitated.

Oh! she reflected, what if he should answer—“Rather than this I hand you over to Ramiro”? What if he should think of that argument? Happily for her, at the moment he did not.

“Swear,” she implored, “swear,” clinging with her hands to the lappet of his coat and lifting to him her white and piteous face.

“I make it an offering in expiation of my sins,” he groaned, “you shall go free of me.”

Elsa uttered a sigh of relief. She put no faith whatever in Adrian’s promises, but at the worst it would give her time.

“I thought that I should not appeal in vain——”

“To so amusing and egregious a donkey,” said Ramiro’s mocking voice speaking from the gloom of the doorway, which now Elsa observed for the first time had swung open mysteriously.

“My dear son and daughter-in-law, how can I thank you sufficiently for the entertainment with which you have enlivened one of the most dreary afternoons I remember. Don’t look dangerous, my boy; recall what you have just told this young lady, that the crime of removing a parent is one which, though agreeable, is not lightly to be indulged. Then, as to your future arrangements, how touching! The soul of a Diana, I declare, and the self-sacrifice of a—no, I fear that the heroes of antiquity can furnish no suitable example. And now, adieu, I go to welcome the gentleman you both of you so eagerly expect.”

He went, and a minute later without speaking, for the situation seemed beyond words, Adrian crept down the stairs after him, more miserable and crushed even than he had crept up them half an hour before.

Another two hours went by. Elsa was in her apartment with Black Meg for company, who watched her as a cat watches a mouse in a trap. Adrian had taken refuge in the place where he slept above. It was a dreary, vacuous chamber, that once had held stones and other machinery of the mill now removed, the home of spiders and half-starved rats, that a lean black cat hunted continually. Across its ceiling ran great beams, whereof the interlacing ends, among which sharp draughts whistled, lost themselves in gloom, while, with an endless and exasperating sound, as of a knuckle upon a board, the water dripped from the leaky roof.

In the round living-chamber below Ramiro was alone. No lamp had been lit, but the glow from the great turf fire played upon his face as he sat there, watching, waiting, and scheming in the chair of black oak. Presently a noise from without caught his quick ear, and calling to the serving woman to light the lamp, he went to the door, opened it, and saw a lantern floating towards him through the thick steam of falling rain. Another minute and the bearer of the lantern, Hague Simon, arrived, followed by two other men.

“Here he is,” said Simon, nodding at the figure behind him, a short round figure wrapped in a thick frieze cloak, from which water ran. “The other is the head boatman.”

“Good,” said Ramiro. “Tell him and his companions to wait in the shed without, where liquor will be sent to them; they may be wanted later on.”

Then followed talk and oaths, and at length the man retreated grumbling.

“Enter, Father Thomas,” said Ramiro; “you have had a wet journey, I fear. Enter and give us your blessing.”

Before he answered the priest threw off his dripping, hooded cape of Frisian cloth, revealing a coarse, wicked face, red and blear-eyed from intemperance.

“My blessing?” he said in a raucous voice. “Here it is, Señor Ramiro, or whatever you call yourself now. Curse you all for bringing out a holy priest upon one of your devil’s errands in weather which is only fit for a bald-headed coot to travel through. There is going to be a flood; already the water is running over the banks of the dam, and it gathers every moment as the snow melts. I tell you there is going to be such a flood as we have not seen for years.”

“The more reason, Father, for getting through this little business quickly; but first you will wish for something to drink.”

Father Thomas nodded, and Ramiro filling a small mug with brandy, gave it to him. He gulped it off.

“Another,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. A chosen vessel should also be a seasoned vessel; at any rate this one is. Ah! that’s better. Now then, what’s the exact job?”

Ramiro took him apart and they talked together for a while.

“Very good,” said the priest at length, “I will take the risk and do it, for where heretics are concerned such things are not too closely inquired into nowadays. But first down with the money; no paper or promises, if you please.”

“Ah! you churchmen,” said Ramiro, with a faint smile, “in things spiritual or temporal how much have we poor laity to learn of you!” With a sigh he produced the required sum, then paused and added, “No; with your leave we will see the papers first. You have them with you?”

“Here they are,” answered the priest, drawing some documents from his pocket. “But they haven’t been married yet; the rule is, marry first, then certify. Until the ceremony is actually performed, anything might happen, you know.”

“Quite so, Father. Anything might happen either before or after; but still, with your leave, I think that in this case we may as well certify first; you might want to be getting away, and it will save so much trouble later. Will you be so kind as to write your certificate?”

Father Thomas hesitated, while Ramiro gently clinked the gold coins in his hand and murmured,

“I should be sorry to think, Father, that you had taken such a rough journey for nothing.”

“What trick are you at now?” growled the priest. “Well, after all it is a mere form. Give me the names.”

Ramiro gave them; Father Thomas scrawled them down, adding some words and his own signature, then said, “There you are, that will hold good against anyone except the Pope.”

“A