The First Sir Percy by Baroness Orczy (which ebook reader TXT) 📕

however, by his father and also by others, he did admit that fugitives from Ede had succeeded in reaching the camp.

Fugitives from Ede? What did that mean? Why should there be fugitives from Ede, when the armies of the Archduchess were so many leagues away?

Nicolaes Beresteyn shrugged his shoulders. “The Stadtholder will explain,” was all that he said.

He appeared impatient and consequential, made them all feel that he could say more if he cared. He had been kept out of the prince’s councils while he was under the paternal room, but now he had gained a place in the camp which had always been his by right. These solemn burghers⁠—important enough within the purlieus of their own city⁠—had become insignificant, mere civilians, now that the fate of the country rested upon those who were young enough to bear arms.

Nicolaes tried to meet his sister’s glance.

Her indifference toward him galled his sense of importance, and he wished her to know that he neither repented nor was ashamed of what he had said the other night. Anon, when he had succeeded in forcing her eyes to meet his, he gave her a look charged with a mocking challenge. Up to this hour, she had said nothing to her father; now Nicolaes appeared to dare her to speak. But his sneers had not the power to disturb her sublime trust in the man she loved. That some mystery did cling to his journey across the Veluwe she could no longer doubt; but her fears upon the subject dwelt solely on any personal danger that might have overtaken him.

As for her father and his friends, they had apparently decided to possess their souls in patience. There was, indeed, nothing to do but to wait the Stadtholder’s arrival, and in the meanwhile to try and hold those fears in check which had been aroused by the ominous words, “Fugitives from Ede.”

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