THE STREET OF THE BUTCHERY
It was still quite early one crisp morning when Kate McGhie set out
to do her marketing. Ever since the first few days after her arrival
in the city of Amersfort, she had been intrusted with this duty--both
because she desired to do something to help her friend and gossip
Maisie with her household cares, and also because, being a laird's
daughter, she was more learned in the accomplishments of foreign
tongues than the daughter of Anton Lennox of the Duchrae.
The sun shone on her face and touched lovingly the small straying
curls of her hair, as Kate stood at the outer door of the lodgings
in Zaandpoort Street. She was drawing on a pair of gloves which made
a difficulty about the matter, and needed to be repeatedly coaxed
with that adorable pout which Wat loved. She was clad from head to
foot in doublet and pleated skirt of gray Scots cloth, woven both of
them by that very worthy man and elder in the Kirk, William Edgar of
Rhonehouse. She wore also a flat, broad bonnet; and the ribbon of the
blue snood, which, in token of maidenhood, bound her hair, was tied in
a dainty love-knot behind her ear.
The rebellious gloves were a pair of Spanish gauntlets of untanned
leather, and she was calculating what she could buy for the silver
florin, which comprised all the united resources of the Zaandpoort
establishment for the day. She allowed the slightest sigh to escape
her of regret for the easier finances of Balmaghie, where neither her
father nor she herself ever knew aught of the providing till the dishes
were on the table, so completely did the ancient house-keeper of Roger
McGhie keep the matter in her own responsible but exceedingly jealous
hands.
"This experience of marketing will teach you many things you do not
know," said Maisie, the newly married wife, darkly. "It would indeed be
a pretty pass if when you came to be married you did not know a leg of
beef from a shoulder of mutton."
Yet, in spite of Maisie's words, there was no great chance, in the
ordering of the domestic economy of Zaandpoort Street, of getting
first-hand information upon the subject of such expensive and
formidable dainties as these.
For the pay of a gentleman-private in the Covenanter's regiment did not
allow of extragavances, even when it was supplemented by certain small
sums brought safely over from Scotland by the hand and favor of more
recent exiles.
But Kate McGhie had not come to live upon Will and Maisie as a
dependant. She would be, she declared to her hostess, neither sorner
nor idler; for she had brought with her certain moneys of her own, and
her father in Scotland had promised to send her more at such times
as he got the chance of a douce Scottish merchant coming to the Low
Countries in search of Dutch tobacco and Flemish cloth.
It was, therefore, with the light, free step of one who is a partner
in the concern that Kate took her way towards the market-place of
Amersfort. She carried a small white wicker-basket over her right arm,
and in her left hand she held the skirt of her kirtle as she went
alertly stepping over the puddles and gutters in the streets, and
even overleaping the backs of sundry slumbering dogs with a quick
and dainty disdain which became her well. The soldier lads hurrying
by with despatches turned their heads to watch her as she passed; and
the brisk merchant 'prentices, going to their counting-houses at six
in the morning (as was the custom of the time and place), risked their
master's reprimand to stand awhile and gaze as she tripped out of
sight, careless in her maiden freedom alike of the gold braid of the
officer and the broadcloth of the merchant.
At last Kate arrived in the wide square, into which looked down the
hundred windows of the historical townhall of Amersfort, one of the
most famous in Netherlandish history. She at once penetrated fearlessly
into that babel of discord, and, disregarding the proffered attentions
of the first noisy stall-keepers, she swept past them and threaded her
way steadily to the favored and regular recipients of her custom, who
by honest dealing and courtesy had already established their right to
her confidence.
Pretty enough it was to see the practical intentness with which she
examined the portions of meat and bundles of vegetables submitted to
her judgment. How sagely and charmingly, and eke with what an air
of wisdom, did she not listen to these voluble explanations, one
word in ten of which she might possibly understand. Then, holding up
three or four slender white fingers, she would indicate the number of
infinitesimal copper coins which she was willing to pay for the article.
Whereat the vendor would laugh, and reject the offer with a sadly
resigned air, as much as to say that doubtless such a noble young lady
must needs have her jest with a poor man. And when, in her turn, Kate
would smile sweetly and persistently, or even as a last resort pretend
to go on to another stall, then presently and swiftly the bargain
would be completed upon her own terms, and to the ample profit and
satisfaction of the merchant.
Thus drawing all eyes upon her as she went by, trim and dainty from
head to foot, graceful from the proud setting of her head on the
swan-like neck to the turn of the slender ankle, this tall young
Scots maid passed, light-foot, heart-whole, and fearless, through the
discursive clamor of the market-place. Verily, a most pleasant sight
for the eyes of men and women to behold.
And amongst others, my Lord of Barra watched her this day, not by any
means for the first time. For though he had left his bed betimes and
come down to the market-place of the city, ostensibly in order to
observe the mood of the turbulent and often rebellious town--in reality
he had left the palace solely for the purpose of watching for the
slight form and swiftly gracious carriage which pertained to the latest
arrival among the exiles from his own country. Nevertheless, he did
not try to speak to her. Murdo of Barra had wisdom enough to wait till
by chance or stratagem he could compass an effective entrance upon the
stage of her life. On the very first day of her sojourn in Amersfort
he had taken the trouble to find out all that was known about her
among the Scottish refugees. And without any great difficulty he had
discovered a man from Galloway who had informed him how that this maid
was not only the sole heiress to the broad acres of Balmaghie, but also
a true-blue daughter of the Covenants, and one who had quarrelled with
her father and all her kin for the sake of the banner of the Bible and
the Sword.
Barra shrugged his shoulders.
"For such a lip and such a waist the king himself might venture to
subscribe as many covenants as there are, and yet cry out for more!"
So it came to pass that, as often as Kate McGhie visited the morning
bustle of the thronging market-place of Amersfort, so often there could
be seen on the skirts of the crowd a tall, dark man in a close-fitting
suit of black velvet, with ribbon-bows of the new flat shape at the
knees, and the orange-colored hose and cloak of the prince's household.
He seemed mainly to be watching the delivering of the customs-dues by
the incoming merchants, but also to be keeping a wary eye upon the
chaffering crowd in the interests of law and order, as indeed became a
provost-marshal.
But, in spite of all, his eye never for a moment lost sight of the
slim, graceful figure, nor of the gray cap and eagle's feather which
told of another country and a warmer blood than that which flowed so
placidly in the veins of the honest burghers' wives who did their
serenely contentious marketing at Kate McGhie's elbow.
It was nigh upon the stroke of seven when the girl emerged with
heightened color and quickened breath at the far end of the
market-place. Her basket had grown heavy upon her rounds, and the long,
green purse was weighty now with copper coin, instead of holding a
single knob of silver at one end.
Straight in front of Kate lay an alley which promised to conduct her by
a nearer way to the shaded canal bank, from which diverged the street
of Zaandpoort, where already Maisie would be waiting for her return
with the daily stores.
Kate struck fearlessly into the opening. It was a narrow and steep lane
which led abruptly upward from the market-place. The houses, with their
beetle-browed swallow-nests' balconies, almost met overhead, while the
lower stories were taken up with crowded booths containing the humblest
merchandise. Dirty children swarmed in the gutters. Fierce, battered,
scowling faces of men looked out of sullen doorways, and scarred and
disfigured women showed their heads, fiercely or inquiringly, at the
rag-stuffed holes which served for windows.
At a curious elbow in this street of the Butchery (as was its
well-befitting name) Kate paused, startled a little at her strange
surroundings. She looked anxiously about her. The girl had never been
in this part of the town before, and she began to wish that she had
taken her usual circuitous route homeward by the main streets and the
canal bank.
But even while she looked uncertainly about, several fellows of the
baser sort disengaged themselves from various low doorways and strolled
towards her. Instantly Kate gripped the handle of her basket a little
tighter, and, keeping well in the middle of the street, endeavored to
pass the men by with great unconcern.
The first pair, who were indeed none other than our friends of the
inn of Brederode, the Calf and the Killer, divided to let her pass.
And Kate, having swept between them with her head high, found herself
almost in the arms of Haxo the Bull, who held his hands wide to
intercept her, laughing the while, as though she had been a poor beast
that wished to escape from his shambles.
"Gently, my pretty one," he said, cocking his scarred and brutal head
to the side to look at her, "'tis not so often that we have such
dainty, high-stepping maids come to visit us here in the Street of the
Butchery; and when they do, it is the custom of the country that they
pay toll ere they depart."
And he would have laid a heavy hand on her shoulder; but Kate started
back so quickly and fiercely that Haxo thought that she was about to
draw a weapon upon him. With a well-executed feint she pretended to
pass him on the right hand, then, light as a swallow, she made a dart
past on his left, and, lifting her kirtle wellnigh to her knee, she ran
swiftly up the street. But from a dark alley in front two other men
emerged and intercepted her, while from behind Haxo and his myrmidons
closed in upon her, running with all their might.
Seeing that it was impossible for her to escape by flight, Kate
set down her basket at her feet and drew forth the keen little
hunting-knife which she always wore in her garter. Then she set her
back to the nearest wall, and resolved that it should go ill with the
first who dared to lay a hand upon her.
"Fairly and softly, beauty," cried Haxo, insinuatingly, as he came
up panting, "we mean you no harm, lady. But you must know that it is
the custom of the Street of the Butchery that every stranger must pay
toll to us. And for you the toll is of the sweetest, and will cost
you naught but what you have plenty store of. I' faith! when did the
tasting of such lips as yours do harm to any man!"
And Haxo's smile as he spoke became an entire infernal epic.
He drew cautiously closer, and as he brought his hideous, greasy face,
stamped with all pollution, nearer to hers, Kate drew back her hand
ready to strike at him desperately with the knife. But as she did so,
the snaky hand of the Killer grasped her wrist like a vise, while the
Calf leaned over her shoulder and with his right hand took away the
weapon. Kate was left completely at their mercy.
"Help! Help!" she shouted, desperately, and the cry of pity and appeal
rang vainly up and down the street. A few of the battered drabs of
women leaned listlessly out of the windows, scarcely amused by the
horse-play of Haxo and his companions. They saw so many much more
terrible things every night and day in the Street of the Butchery.