THE JESTERS AND THE RHETORIC PLAYERS
That winter the Count Adolphus, who had been seeing service with the
King of Denmark, joined the Nassau household at Brussels, where Count
Louis was already living; he too hoped for some post under his brilliant
brother, and meanwhile eagerly joined the party of the grandees and
closely associated himself with the band of young and reckless
cavaliers, such as Count Louis, Count Hoogstraaten, young Mansfeld, and
Henry Brederode.
It was a gorgeous life, an extravagant life, a life in every way
reckless and opulent that these seigneurs led on the edge of revolution,
on the edge of the King's wrath, on the edge perhaps of worse things
than any of them dreamed.
There were hunts, falcon parties, entertainments at their magnificent
country seats, balls, feasts, dinners, masks in the great palaces in
Brussels; even the Cardinalists Aremberg, Aerschot, and Barlaymont
mingled in this joyous and spendthrift society. But it was the party
headed by Orange, Egmont, and Hoorne which went the furthest in
splendour, display, and open defiance of the Cardinal and the edicts of
the Inquisition—edicts which two Stadtholders at least, Berghen and
Montigny, resolutely refused to enforce in their provinces.
Granvelle smiled and wrote his long dispatches to the King, carefully
giving instances of the pride and insolence of the grandees, and
declaring that not only were they set against himself, but against the
authority of His Majesty. Margaret raged and wept and grew daily more
confused; all had forsaken her council board save the Cardinal and his
creatures, and her pride began to revolt against Granvelle's obvious
treatment of her as a puppet. Her secretary Armenteros, one of the sly
Spaniards bred in the school of Madrid, urged her to assert herself, and
she could not but see that Granvelle's policy, however acceptable to the
King, was most likely to raise a religious war in the Netherlands, which
she, a foreigner in fact, though nominally a Fleming, dared not attempt
to coerce without the aid of the Stadtholders with their immense local
influence.
Early in the new year it became secretly known to the grandees that
Margaret had lately sent a letter to the King representing the desperate
financial state of the country, the firm hold heresy had, the immense
feeling against the Inquisition, the impossibility of counting on the
nobility while Granvelle remained in power, and the advisability of
recalling the Cardinal for a while.
This news was received as a triumph, and Egmont, with his usual
recklessness, gave a great feast, where the toast "to the departure of
the man in red" was enthusiastically drunk.
It was past midnight when a party of young nobles—Adolphus of Nassau,
Hoogstraaten, Montigny, and Brederode—left Egmont's mansion and turned
homewards through the moonlit streets of Brussels.
They would not so soon have left the festival if they had not been
inspired by a project of daring mischief: Brederode had a sheaf of
violent pasquils under his brocade cloak, Hoogstraaten in the same
manner concealed a pot of paste, and Adolphus and Montigny were to keep
watch while the other two placarded their insults over any bare wall
that offered.
It was a fair night, and the moonlight fell unclouded into the streets,
casting sharp shadows from gables and balconies and rendering the work
of the young cavaliers as dangerous as they could wish; even Egmont had
warned them against proceeding too far, and William had perpetually
forbidden his brothers to indulge in dangerous jests, for William knew
Philip.
But they were young, enthusiastic, warmed with wine, absolutely
fearless—and where Henry Brederode was there could never be caution.
This nobleman was not wealthy, but of as ancient a descent as any in the
Netherlands, being the last representative of the former Counts of
Holland, of whose vast possessions, however, he retained only one
lordship.
As he stood now leaning against a church door on which he was engaged in
pasting his pasquil, it was easy to see the fascination which kept him
the friends of men who believed him worthless, for there was a winning
charm in the handsome laughing face, the thick curls shading the bold
impudent eyes, the humorous mouth, showing the man of ready wit, of
endless daring, of quick temper, and ready good nature. He was dressed,
altogether beyond his means, in purple and gold brocade; his ruff of
Flanders lace was stained with wine, and in the gold silk twist of his
left garter he carried a dagger.
Near him stood Anthony Lalaing, Count Hoogstraaten, a chosen friend of
the Prince of Orange despite his youth; he was short and very slender,
and looked almost like a page as he offered the paste pot, his dark
mantle wrapped from his eyes to his knees, his hat pulled over his brow,
the only part of his festival attire visible being his rose-coloured
silk hose.
Adolphus of Nassau also muffled himself in his cloak, and Floris de
Montmorency, the Seigneur de Montigny, a dark splendid cavalier, kept
watch at the turn of the street.
The yellow lights of the two oil lamps, flickering before a gaudy shrine
to the Virgin set in the angle of the houses opposite the church, showed
that the streets were empty, and that no one spied from the windows,
alike all dark and shuttered. But as Brederode, with a laugh of
enjoyment, was pasting a crude but effective likeness of the Cardinal
rapidly journeying to hell in the company of the Devil next to the
lampoon which he had already firmly affixed to the church door,
Hoogstraaten and Montigny both gave a sound of warning—but too late; a
carriage, singularly light and noiseless, swept round the corner, and
the nobles, whose own reckless laughter had concealed the sound of the
wheels, found the vehicle on them before they could fly.
One of them, at least, did not wish to do so; Brederode turned round,
the paste-brush in his hand, ready for any defiance.
The other three crowded close to the door, hiding with their persons the
distinct white squares of the still wet lampoons.
"What carriage in these streets at this hour?" whispered Montigny, who,
as the most prudent, was also the most nervous and anxious.
His curiosity was not long in being satisfied, the blinds of the
carriage were up, and from the window nearest the church looked out the
serene smooth face of Cardinal Granvelle.
Even Brederode concealed the paste-brush, and the others lowered their
faces into the folds of their mantles.
But the carriage stopped, and Granvelle looked straight at Brederode.
"Good evening," he said. "You enjoy the night air of Brussels?"
"As well on foot as Your Eminence in a carriage," replied the Baron,
throwing back his head, his eyes beginning to dance with defiance.
"Oh, I," replied Granvelle, his glance travelling over the other
cavaliers—"I am returning to La Fontaine after supper with the Regent."
"I also am returning home," replied Brederode. "My host was the Count
Egmont."
"Did the Count win any more dice throws?" asked the Cardinal.
"Nay, we were not occupied in gaming," said Brederode; "but had we
played," he added, with his reckless loyalty to Egmont, "I doubt not the
Count would have won."
"Ah, he has luck," smiled the Cardinal, "but he may find the throw of
the dice that made him the designer of the liveries a perilous victory."
The three cavaliers drew closer together; for all their high spirits and
youthful bravado they knew what power the Cardinal had with Philip, and
what the King's wrath meant. There might be eventual death for all of
them if Granvelle saw what was pasted on the church door behind them.
But Brederode answered dauntlessly—
"Is there not some peril in Your Eminence driving abroad so late and
unattended? Best be on your way; you are not so popular in Brussels."
Granvelle smiled.
"I am well aware that I have enemies capable of assassinating me, but I
am able to despise them, even"—his glance again swept the silent
three—"if these here are among those willing to lie in wait to do me a
mischief."
"Whoever advised you so, lied!" cried Brederode.
The Cardinal leant farther from the window. "Who are those behind you?"
he asked. "Methinks I know the figure of the Seigneur Hoogstraaten, or
is it some page? And a member of the House of Nassau—would it be
now—Adolphus or Louis?"
"Adolphus," answered that knight, who would not involve his brother in
his adventure; "and by your leave we have as good right to be abroad as
yourself."
"An amorous adventure?" smiled Granvelle. "Yet a church door is a
strange rendezvous."
"Your Eminence knows best of that," said Brederode, with utter
recklessness. "There are others beside you who know how to reconcile
love and the Church."
Granvelle was well-known to be far from saintly, and the thrust caused
him to wince. Adolphus caught Brederode's sleeve and besought him to
hush.
"How many insolences go unchecked in the Netherlands!" said Granvelle
softly. "But the King is not so easily mocked. Your names are all noted
in Madrid."
"Go there and remind His Majesty of them," answered Brederode, "and
place my name high on the list, and say I sent you there to write it."
Hoogstraaten pulled him back, and Montigny, disdaining to be disguised
now his companions were discovered, moved forward, while Adolphus deftly
set his back against the placard.
"Your Eminence will take no notice of the Count," he said, "since he is
obviously far gone in wine."
"I take no notice of any of you," replied the Cardinal, "and I think you
are more drunk with treason than with wine——"
"Treason?" shouted Brederode; "who dares give that word to me?"
And he was hurling himself on the Cardinal, but Hoogstraaten and
Adolphus held him back and forced him against the wall; he laughed and
broke loose from them, disappearing in the shadows behind the Cardinal's
carriage.
"Ah, Floris Montmorency," cried the Cardinal, "is this the place for the
Stadtholder of Hainault?"
"I but amuse myself with my companions," replied Montigny, with a smile,
though he was deeply conscious of his false position.
"The nobles of the Netherlands choose dangerous amusements," said the
Cardinal, "and the Princes of Nassau dangerous company," he added,
glancing at Adolphus.
The three nobles, bitterly irritated at the Cardinal's questions and his
delay, could hardly restrain their impatience, especially as they
suspected that he knew well enough what they were about, and what they
concealed behind them on the church door.
"You think I too dare something in reprimanding you?" said Granvelle,
"yet I cannot believe that the chivalrous Houses of Nassau, Lalaing, and
Montmorency would combine against a defenceless priest."
"Your Eminence need have no fear of that," replied Montigny, "though we
are not among those who have found priests defenceless—nay, very much
the opposite."
"The March air," replied Granvelle, "is too keen to give a relish to
this banter of wits with boys and roysterers."
"We wish no conversation with Your Eminence," cried Adolphus angrily;
"you might have driven on, for us, without a word."
"I am sorry," said the Cardinal, with a keen look at Montigny; "yea, I
say again that I am sorry to see the Stadtholder of Hainault in such
company."
With this remark, which Adolphus and Hoogstraaten received as an insult
and Montigny as a threat, Granvelle signalled to the coachmen and leant
back in his seat.
As the carriage drove on up the slope, Montigny looked anxiously for
Brederode.
"Where is he? Fled?" Adolphus asked.
But a shout of laughter answered them; the Count was standing at the
corner under the shrine and pointing after the Cardinal's carriage.
When the other three cavaliers looked in this direction they could not
forbear laughter either. On the back of the carriage in which Granvelle
was taking his stately departure was pasted the lampoon and the picture
of His Eminence hastening along with the Devil.
While the others had been using their wits, Brederode had used his
paste-brush, and to greater effect.
"Par le Cordieu!" cried the Count, "his face will turn yellow when he
sees that!"
"But he will guess who did it, my Brederode," said Hoogstraaten, "and
what kind of exploit will that show in us?"
"Give me the bills," added Montigny, "here is enough for one night."
Hoogstraaten cast his paste pot over the wall of the garden nearest, and
Adolphus was glad to end the perilous jest; the night air, the
conversation with the Cardinal, had cleared their minds of the fumes of
wine and excitement. It had been a dangerous moment while they stood
with their backs against the placards on the church door.
"The news of this may reach Madrid," continued Montigny, endeavouring to
disarm Brederode of his brush.
"Madrid is a great way off," returned the turbulent Count.
"But Philip has a long arm," said Montigny; he took the rest of the
pasquils from Brederode and thrust them into his own doublet, and cast
the brush over the wall after the paste pot.
Brederode was inclined to be angry, till two of them passed an arm in
his, and the four of them went up the street, the Count shouting a song
loudly enough to bring the solitary watch to the street corner as they
went by.
They had almost regained Egmont's palace, where Hoogstraaten and
Montigny were lodging, when their progress was suddenly interrupted.
A man stepped from a doorway and stood right across the path of the four
nobles. Their first thought was of violence, and all of them clapped
their hands on their swords, but the fellow threw out his hands to show
he was defenceless, and then they noticed that he wore the famous
livery—the camlet robe with the hanging sleeves embroidered with the
bunch of arrows.
"There is only one of you with his face uncovered," he said, in a low
eager voice, "but he is the Seigneur Brederode——"
"At your service," said the Count; "whose fellow are you?"
"Alas, I am no one's fellow," was the reply; "this livery is but a
disguise bought with my last ducats. Titelmann is after me."
"Are you a heretic?" asked Montigny.
"I am nothing at all, but I played the part of the Cardinal in the
rhetoric play, and the bonnet maker where I lodged betrayed me to the
Inquisition. But the boy of the house warned me, and I crept out and got
this habit, and have been in the streets ever since, and if some great
noble will not take me into his house, Titelmann will get me at the
last."
"I like your humour," said Brederode instantly, "and all enemies of the
Cardinal are friends of mine——"
Montigny checked him and turned to the stranger.
"Fellow," he demanded, "is this tale true, or but some ruse? Answer me
truthfully. I am the Stadtholder of Hainault."
"Before God it is true," answered the other earnestly. "And I speak in
dread of my life, and with no object but to gain protection. Ever since
it has been dark I have been creeping from corner to corner, hoping to
find some seigneur——"
"Friend," interrupted Brederode, "I could take you if my house was
bigger and my debts less. But Egmont," he added, with his usual
admiration of that nobleman, "Egmont will give you shelter—his house is
as full of heretics as Geneva itself."
"Then I will hasten to throw myself on the protection of the noble
Count," answered the other gratefully. But Montigny, fearing the
recklessness both of Brederode and Egmont, was for seizing this stranger
who might be anything that he did not say he was—even one of Granvelle's
spies—when Adolphus said, "Surely I know his voice, his look——" he
dropped the mantle from his face as he spoke, and gazed keenly at the
other, who gave a quick exclamation.
"It is the Count Adolphus of Nassau! Then out of his princely goodness
he can vouch for me." So saying, he thrust back the hood of his habit,
revealing the smooth keen face, the agate brown eyes, of Duprès, the
Elector Augustus's skryer.
"Yes, it is he," said Adolphus, "who predicted a bloody death for all of
us. And now you are in fear of death yourself," he added, with a smile;
"it is strange that one who can read the future cannot foretell his own
perils."
"Alas, noble seigneur," replied Duprès, with his usual mingled impudence
and reverence, "the angels became capricious and would not give me any
more good advice, and I, growing restless, must needs leave a good
master and go on my travels which have brought me here—and will lead me
no further than the stake unless one of your princely Graces have pity
on me. I have seen," he added, with a slight convulsive shudder, "men
burning who have beheld angels in the flames and died happy, calling on
Christ. But I have always been profane, and am more like to see devils
and die blaspheming my God."
"We would deliver no one to death for such an offence as yours," replied
Montigny. "And since the Count Adolphus knows you, he will take you to
the household of His Highness, where you will be sheltered."
The skryer bent and impulsively kissed the young knight's hand.
"Can he converse with angels?" demanded the Count, who had kept silence
so long with difficulty. "If so he may bring them for me——"
"Alas, my magic table is lost," replied Duprès, "and the impression of
the mystic seals—they went down on board ship, off Havre."
"But you can tell my fortune?" persisted Brederode.
"You will find that in the bottom of a wine cup, may God forgive you!"
cried Hoogstraaten, dragging him on.
"Yes, best go home before more befall us," said Montigny, and the four
parted—Brederode and his two friends back to the mansion of Egmont; and
Adolphus, with the skryer humbly behind him, to the Nassau palace.