THE TYRANTS
I
The next morning, at the tenth hour, five reverend seigniors presented
themselves before the Duke of Alva, Lieutenant-Governor of the Low
Countries and Captain-General of the Forces, in the apartments which he
occupied in Het Spanjaards Kasteel.
They were Messire Pierre van Overbeque, Vice-Bailiff of Ghent; Messire
Deynoot, Procurator-General, and Messire Jan van Migrode, Chief Sheriff
of the Keure; then there was Messire Lievin van Deynse, the brewer at
the sign of the "Star of the North," and Baron van Groobendock, chief
financial adviser on the Town Council.
They had waited on His Highness at a very early hour, but had been kept
waiting in the guard-room for two hours, without a chair to sit on, and
with a crowd of rough soldiers around them, some of whom were lounging
about on the benches, others playing at cards or dice, whilst all of
them improved the occasion and whiled away the time by indulging in
insolent jests at the expense of the reverend burghers, who--humiliated
beyond forbearance and vainly endeavouring to swallow their wrath--did
not dare to complain to the officer in command, lest worse insults be
heaped upon them.
At one hour before noon the seigniors were at last told very
peremptorily that they might present themselves before His Highness.
They were marched between a detachment of soldiers through the castle
yard to the magnificent apartments in the Meeste-Toren, which at one
time were occupied by the Counts of Flanders. Now the Duke of Alva's
soldiery and his attendants were in every corridor and every ante-room.
They stared with undisguised insolence at the grave seigniors who
belonged to the despised race.
The Lieutenant-Governor was graciously pleased to receive the burghers
in his council-chamber where, seated upon a velvet-covered chair upon an
elevated platform and beneath a crimson dais, he looked down upon these
free citizens of an independent State as if he were indeed possessed of
divine rights over them all. The officer in command of the small
detachment which had escorted the deputation into the dreaded presence,
now ordered the five seigniors to kneel, and they, who had a petition to
present and an act of mercy to entreat, obeyed with that proud humility
wherewith their fathers had knelt thirty-two years ago in sackcloth and
ashes before the throne of the Emperor Charles.
"Your desire, seigniors?" queried the Duke curtly.
Some of the members of his abominable Grand Council sat around him, on
benches placed well below the level of the platform. Alberic del Rio
was there--bland and submissive; President Viglius, General de
Noircarmes, and President Hessels--men who were as bitter against Orange
and his followers as was Alva himself--and, sitting a little apart from
the others, don Juan de Vargas, but recently arrived from Brussels.
"Your desire, seigniors?" the Duke had questioned peremptorily, and
after a few moments Messire Deynoot, the Procurator-General, who was
spokesman of the deputation, began timidly at first--then gradually more
resolutely.
"It is with profound grief," he said, "that we became aware last night
that your Highness' visit to our city was not one of goodwill and amity.
Your Highness' severe restrictions upon our citizens and stern measures
taken against them hath filled our hearts with sorrow."
"Your abominable treachery hath filled our heart with wrath," retorted
the Duke roughly, "and nothing but the clemency enjoined upon us by our
suzerain Lord and King prevented us from reducing this accursed city to
ashes and putting every one of her citizens to the sword, without giving
them a single chance of retrieving their hellish conduct by surrendering
themselves unconditionally to our will."
"It is with the utmost confidence," rejoined the Procurator-General
humbly, "that we rely upon the well-known clemency of our suzerain Lord
the King, and place the future of our beautiful city unconditionally in
your Highness' hands."
"The future of the city is in my hands, Messire," said the Duke dryly,
"by the power of our suzerain Lord and with the help of the troops at my
command. I told you last night under what condition I will spare your
town from total destruction. I am not in the habit of changing my mind
during the course of one night."
"Alas, your Highness! but the city is quite unable to fulfil the one
condition which would appease the wrath of our suzerain Lord and your
own."
"Then," retorted Alva haughtily, "why waste my time and your own in
bandying words which must remain purposeless? Either William of Orange
is delivered into my hands, or my soldiers burn your city down at sunset
to-morrow. By our Lady! is that not clear enough?"
"Clear enough, alas!" rejoined the Procurator-General, and suddenly in
his mind there rose a picture of the tall man last night beneath the
dais, of his inspiring words, his whole-hearted sacrifice: his ringing
voice seemed to echo through this narrow room, and some of the words
which he spoke knocked at the gates of the grave seignior's memory.
"Yours will be the harder task," he had said gaily; "you will have to
fawn and to cringe, to swallow your wrath and to bend your pride!"
Well! God knew that they had done all that: they had swallowed their
wrath and bent their pride before an insolent soldiery, and now they
were fawning and cringing to a tyrant whom they abhorred.
Ghent! beloved city! once the home of the free! what must thy citizens
endure for thy sake?
And the Procurator-General--the descendant of an hundred free men--had
to lick the dust before Alva's throne. He forced his voice to tones of
humility, he looked up at the tyrant with eyes full of unspoken
devotion.
"What can we do?" he said timidly, "to prove our loyalty? I entreat
your Magnificence to look down on our helplessness. Orange is no longer
in Ghent, and we do not know where to find him."
"A pretty tale, indeed," interposed de Vargas suddenly, with a strident
laugh which was echoed obsequiously by the other members round the
council board, "a pretty, likely tale, which I trust your Highness will
not think to believe."
"I neither believe nor disbelieve any tale which these grave seigniors
choose to tell me," rejoined the Duke. "I want Orange--or we burn this
city down till not a stone in it be left upon stone."
And Messire Deynoot, whose entire soul rose in revolt against that rough
dictate of a hellish tyrant, had perforce to subdue his passionate wrath
and to speak with affected humility and unconcern.
"We had hoped," he said quietly, "that we might offer to your Highness
such a proof of our loyalty that you would no longer wish to cast aside
a city that hath always hitherto proved staunch and true."
"What mean you, sirrah? What proofs can you give me now of this
accursed city's loyalty, when you harbour a veritable army of traitors
within your walls?"
"We would wish to prove to your Magnificence that the city itself takes
no part in the vagaries and plottings of a few hot-headed malcontents."
"Hot-headed malcontents, forsooth!" exclaimed the Duke fiercely. "Two
thousand men prepared to take up arms against our Suzerain Lord the
King! ... arms concealed in churches and cemeteries! money poured into
the lap of Orange and all his rebels!"
"There are more than two thousand men who are prepared to fight and die
for their country and their King," said the Fleming suavely, "and who
are equally ready to pour money into the coffers of their Liege Lord, as
represented by His Highness Ferdinand Alvarez de Toledo, Duke of Alva,
and by the reverend members of his Council."
This he had said very slowly and with marked emphasis, and even while he
spoke he had the satisfaction of seeing more than one pair of eyes round
that Council board gloating with delight at the vision of treasure and
wealth which his words had called forth. He and his colleagues had long
after the assembly of last night discussed between them this one
proposal, which might, they hoped, tempt the cupidity of the Spaniards,
which they knew to be boundless. They were wealthy men all of them--the
town was wealthy beyond the dreams of Alva's avarice, and the five men
who had been deputed to offer up a brave man's life as the price of a
city's safety, had resolved to sacrifice their last stiver, and keep the
hero in their midst.
But Alva, with a sneer, had already destroyed all the fond hopes which
had been built upon that resolve.
"If you offered me every treasure--to the last gulden--contained in your
city," he said, with emphasis no less strongly marked than had been the
other man's offer, "I would not deny myself the pleasure of razing this
abominable nest of rebels to the ground. Why should I," he added with a
cynical shrug of the shoulders, "take from you as a bribe what my
soldiers can get for me by the might of fire and sword? Orange alone
would tempt me, for I would wish to have him alive--we might kill him by
accident when we destroy the town."
"We can collect two million gulden in gold," said Messire Deynoot
insinuatingly, "and lay that sum at the feet of your Magnificence
to-morrow."
"Ah?" said the Duke blandly, "then I am greatly relieved that so much
money can be got voluntarily out of this city. Your words, Messire, are
honey to mine ears; they prove, beyond a doubt, that if you can raise
two million gulden in forty-eight hours my soldiers can put up ten times
that amount in a two days' sacking of this town."
"The money voluntarily offered, Monseigneur," here interposed the
Vice-Bailiff, "would shame neither the giver nor the receiver. The
destruction of a free and loyal city would be an eternal disgrace upon
the might of Spain."
"Spare me thy heroics, sirrah!" quoth Alva fiercely, "or I'll have that
impudent tongue of thine cut out before nightfall."
And once more the burghers had to bend their pride before the appalling
arrogance of their tyrant.
"Begone now!" added the Lieutenant-Governor peremptorily, seeing that
the Flemings were silent for the moment. "The business of the State
cannot be held up by such profitless talk. And if you have nothing
better to offer to our Gracious King than money which is already his,
why, then, you are wasting my time, and had best go back to those who
sent you."
"No one sent us, Monseigneur," resumed the Procurator-General, with as
much dignity as he could command, even though his back ached and his
knees were painfully cramped. "We are free burghers of the city of
Ghent, which, alas! hath earned your Highness' displeasure. We have
offered of our treasure so as to testify to our loyalty ... but this
offer your Magnificence hath thought fit to refuse. At the same time we
are not at the end of our resources or of our protestations of loyalty.
We have yet another offer to place before your Highness which, perhaps,
may be more agreeable in your sight."
"And what is that offer, sirrah? Be quick about it, as my patience, of
a truth, is at the end of its resources."
The Procurator-General did not make immediate reply. Truly he was
screwing up his determination for the terrible ordeal which was before
him. He hung his head, and, despite his fortitude--probably because of
weakness following on fatigue--he felt that tears gathered in his eyes,
and he feared that his voice now as he spoke would become unsteady. The
others, too, kept their eyes fixed to the ground. They could not bear
to look on one another, at this moment when they were about to offer up
so brave and gallant a life in sacrifice for their city and for all the
townsfolk. Indeed, Messire Deynoot ere he spoke forced his mind to
dwell upon all the horrors of Mons and Valenciennes and Mechlin, upon
all the women and children, the feeble and the old, his own wife, his
daughters and his mother, so as to gather courage for the task which had
been imposed upon him.
Thus there was silence for a minute or so in this narrow room, wherein
the close velvet draperies made the air heavy, so that the number of men
here assembled--Spaniards and Flemings and soldiers--felt as if an awful
load was weighing their senses down. Councillor Hessels, as was his
wont, had fallen asleep. He woke up in the oppressive silence in order
to murmur drowsily: "To the gallows with them all!" Alva sat sullen and
wrathful, looking down with contempt and scorn on the kneeling burghers
before him. De Vargas, now and again, turned anxious, furtive eyes to
where a rich portiere of damask-velvet hid a door in the panelling of
the wall. Even now it seemed as if that portiere stirred--as if an
unseen hand was grasping it with a febrile nervous clutch--it seemed, in
fact, as if some one lived and breathed there behind the curtain, and as
if all that was said and would be said in the room would find its echo
in a palpitating heart.
II
Anon the Duke of Alva's impatience broke its bounds: "An you'll not
speak, sirrah," he cried, "get you gone! Get you gone, I say, ere I
order my lacqueys to throw you out of my house."
"Your pardon, Monseigneur," said Messire Deynoot with sudden resolution,
"I but paused in order to choose the words which might best please your
ears. The offer which I am about to make to your Highness is in the
name of all the citizens of Ghent, and I feel confident that your
Highness will gladly acknowledge that no greater mark of loyalty could
be offered by any town to our suzerain Lord the King."
"Speak!" commanded Alva.
"Next to the Prince of Orange himself," said the Procurator-General
timidly, "is there not a man who hath gravely incurred your Highness'
displeasure, but who hath hitherto evaded the punishment which your
Highness would no doubt mete out to him?"
"Yes; there is!" replied the Duke curtly. "A man who chooses to wrap
himself up in a mantle of mystery; a spy of Orange--a rebel and traitor
to the King. There is such a man, sirrah! He hath several times
thwarted my projects with regard to Orange. If, as you say, Orange is
not in Ghent then hath that man had a hand in helping him to get away.
Well! what of that man, sirrah? I want him. He is called Leatherface
by my soldiers. What of him, I say?"
"Leatherface is in Ghent, Monseigneur," murmured Deynoot, scarce above
his breath.
"Come! that's good! Then will our booty be even richer than we
thought."
"Leatherface is in Ghent, Monseigneur," continued Deynoot, more
steadily. "But he is an elusive creature. Mysterious agencies are at
work, so they say, to enable him to escape the many traps that are set
for him. He swims like a fish, and climbs like an ape. He entered the
city last night, an hour after all the gates had been closed. In the
terrible confusion which will attend the destruction of our city, he
would escape again.... But just now he is in Ghent, and..."
"And you will deliver him over to me," broke in Alva with a harsh laugh,
"if I will spare your city?"
The Procurator-General nodded his head in reply. His lips refused him
service for that awful, that irreparable "Yes!" The five men now no
longer hung their heads. White as the linen ruffles round their throats,
they were gazing straight into the face of the tyrant, trying to read
the innermost thoughts of that inhuman devil, who held the destiny of
their city--or of a brave man--in the hollow of his claw-like hands.
Alva pondered; and while he did so his prominent, heavy-lidded eyes
sought those of his colleagues no less inhuman, more devilish mayhap,
than himself. And from behind the heavy portiere there seemed to come a
long drawn-out sigh, like some poor creature in pain. De Vargas
frowned, and a muttered curse escaped his lips.
"How long has she been there?" asked Alva quickly, in a whisper.
"All the time," replied de Vargas, also under his breath.
"But this is not for women's ears."
"Nay! your Highness does not know my daughter. It was the man
Leatherface who killed her first lover. She would be happy to see him
hang."
"And she shall, too. She hath deserved well of us. We owe our present
triumph to her."
Then he turned once more to the burghers.
"I like your offer," he said coldly, "and, in a measure, I accept it....
Nay!" he added with that cruel and strident laugh of his, seeing that at
his words a certain look of relief overspread the five pale faces before
him, "do not rejoice too soon. I would not give up the delight of
punishing an entire city for the mere pleasure of seeing one man hang.
True! I would like to hold him. Next to Orange himself, I would sooner
see that mysterious Leatherface dangling on a gibbet than any other
heretic or rebel in this abominable country. But to give up my purpose
over Ghent, that is another matter! Once and for all, seigniors," he
added with fierce and irrevocable determination, "Ghent shall burn,
since Orange has escaped again. But I have said that I accept your
offer, and I do. I take it as an expression of tardy loyalty, and will
reward you in accordance with its value. We will burn your city,
seigniors; but if when your flaming walls begin to crumble about your
ears; when my soldiery have taken their fill of your money and your
treasures, and human lives begin to pay the toll of your rebellion and
treachery, then, if you deliver to me the person of Leatherface alive, I
will, in return, stay my soldiers' hands, and order that in every
homestead one son and one daughter, aye, and the head of the house, too,
be spared. Otherwise--and remember that this is my last word--not one
stone shall remain upon stone within the city--not one inhabitant, man,
woman, or child, shall be left to perpetuate rebellion inside these
walls. I have spoken, and now go--go and tell Leatherface that I await
him. He hath not aided Orange's escape in vain."
He rose, and with a peremptory gesture pointed to the door. The five
burghers were silent. What could they say? To beg, to implore, to
remonstrate would, indeed, have been in vain. As well implore the
fierce torrent not to uproot the tree that impedes its course, or beg
the wolf not to devour its prey. Painfully they struggled to their
feet, roughly urged along by the soldiers. They were indeed cramped and
stiff, as well mentally as physically; they had done their
heart-breaking errand--they had swallowed their wrath and humbled their
pride--they had cringed, and they had fawned and licked the dust beneath
the feet of the tyrant who was in sheer, lustful wantonness sending them
and their kith and kin--guilty and innocent alike--to an abominable
death.... And they had failed--miserably failed either to bribe, to
cajole, or to shame that human fiend into some semblance of mercy. Now
a deathlike sorrow weighed upon their souls. They were like five very
old men sent tottering to their own graves.
Some could hardly see because of the veil of tears before their eyes.
But, even as one by one they filed out of the presence of the tyrant,
they still prayed ... prayed to God to help them and their
fellow-citizens in this the darkest hour of their lives. Truly, if
these valiant people of Flanders had lost their faith and trust in God
then they would have gone absolutely and irretrievably under into the
awful vortex of oppression which threatened to crush the very existence
of their nation, and would have hurled them into the bottomless abyss of
self-destruction.