THE FALL OF HAARLEM
After the terrible repulse inflicted upon the storming party,
Don Frederick perceived that the task before him was not to be
accomplished with the ease and rapidity he had anticipated, and that
these hitherto despised Dutch heretics had at last been driven by
despair to fight with desperate determination that was altogether
new to the Spaniards. He therefore abandoned the idea of carrying
the place by assault, and determined to take it by the slower and
surer process of a regular siege. In a week his pioneers would be
able to drive mines beneath the walls; an explosion would then open
a way for his troops. Accordingly the work began, but the besieged
no sooner perceived what was being done than the thousand men who
had devoted themselves to this work at once began to drive counter
mines.
Both parties worked with energy, and it was not long before the
galleries met, and a desperate struggle commenced under ground.
Here the drill and discipline of the Spaniards availed them but
little. It was a conflict of man to man in narrow passages, with
such light only as a few torches could give. Here the strength and
fearlessness of death of the sturdy Dutch burghers and fishermen
more than compensated for any superiority of the Spaniards in the
management of their weapons. The air was so heavy and thick with
powder that the torches gave but a feeble light, and the combatants
were well nigh stifled by the fumes of sulphur, yet in the galleries
which met men fought night and day without intermission. The places
of those who retired exhausted, or fell dead, were filled by others
impatiently waiting their turn to take part in the struggle. While
the fighting continued the work went on also. Fresh galleries were
continually being driven on both sides, and occasionally tremendous
explosions took place as one party or the other sprung their mines;
the shock sometimes bringing down the earth in passages far removed
from the explosions, and burying the combatants beneath them;
while yawning pits were formed where the explosions took place,
and fragments of bodies cast high in the air. Many of the galleries
were so narrow and low that no arms save daggers could be used, and
men fought like wild beasts, grappling and rolling on the ground,
while comrades with lanterns or torches stood behind waiting to
spring upon each other as soon as the struggle terminated one way
or the other.
For a fortnight this underground struggle continued, and then Don
Frederick--finding that no ground was gained, and that the loss
was so great that even his bravest soldiers were beginning to
dread their turn to enter upon a conflict in which their military
training went for nothing, and where so many hundreds of their
comrades had perished--abandoned all hopes of springing a mine
under the walls, and drew off his troops. A month had already
elapsed since the repulse of the attack on the breach; and while
the fight had been going on underground a steady fire had been
kept up against a work called a ravelin, protecting the gate of the
Cross. During this time letters had from time to time been brought
into the town by carrier pigeons, the prince urging the citizens
to persevere, and holding out hope of relief.
These promises were to some extent fulfilled on the 28th of January,
when 400 veteran soldiers, bringing with them 170 sledges laden with
powder and bread, crossed the frozen lake and succeeded in making
their way into the city. The time was now at hand when the besieged
foresaw that the ravelin of the Cross gate could not much longer be
defended. But they had been making preparations for this contingency.
All through the long nights of January the noncombatants, old men,
women, and children, aided by such of the fighting men as were not
worn out by their work on the walls or underground, laboured to
construct a wall in the form of a half moon on the inside of the
threatened point. None who were able to work were exempt, and none
wished to be exempted, for the heroic spirit burned brightly in
every heart in Haarlem.
Nightly Ned went down with his aunt and cousins and worked side by
side with them. The houses near the new work were all levelled in
order that the materials should be utilized for the construction of
the wall, which was built of solid masonry. The small stones were
carried by the children and younger girls in baskets, the heavier
ones dragged on hand sledges by the men and women. Although
constitutionally adverse to exertion, Frau Plomaert worked sturdily,
and Ned was often surprised at her strength; for she dragged along
without difficulty loaded sledges, which he was unable to move,
throwing her weight on to the ropes that passed over her shoulders,
and toiling backwards and forwards to and from the wall for hours,
slowly but unflinchingly.
It seemed to Ned that under these exertions she visibly decreased
in weight from day to day, and indeed the scanty supply of food
upon which the work had to be done was ill calculated to support the
strength of those engaged upon such fatiguing labour. For from the
commencement of the siege the whole population had been rationed, all
the provisions in the town had been handed over to the authorities
for equal division, and every house, rich and poor, had been
rigorously searched to see that none were holding back supplies for
their private consumption. Many of the cattle and horses had been
killed and salted down, and a daily distribution of food was made
to each household according to the number of mouths it contained.
Furious at the successful manner in which the party had entered the
town on the 28th of January, Don Frederick kept up for the next
few days a terrible cannonade against the gates of the Cross and
of St. John, and the wall connecting them. At the end of that time
the wall was greatly shattered, part of St. John's gate was in
ruins, and an assault was ordered to take place at midnight. So
certain was he of success that Don Frederick ordered the whole of
his forces to be under arms opposite all the gates of the city, to
prevent the population making their escape. A chosen body of troops
were to lead the assault, and at midnight these advanced silently
against the breach. The besieged had no suspicion that an attack
was intended, and there were but some forty men, posted rather as
sentries than guards, at the breach.
These, however, when the Spaniards advanced, gave the alarm, the
watchers in the churches sounded the tocsins, and the sleeping
citizens sprang from their beds, seized their arms, and ran towards
the threatened point. Unawed by the overwhelming force advancing
against them the sentries took their places at the top of the
breach, and defended it with such desperation that they kept their
assailants at bay until assistance arrived, when the struggle
assumed a more equal character. The citizens defended themselves
by the same means that had before proved successful, boiling oil
and pitch, stones, flaming hoops, torches, and missiles of all kinds
were hurled down by them upon the Spaniards, while the garrison
defended the breach with sword and pike.
Until daylight the struggle continued, and Philip then ordered the
whole of his force to advance to the assistance of the storming
party. A tremendous attack was made upon the ravelin in front of
the gate of the Cross. It was successful, and the Spaniards rushed
exulting into the work, believing that the city was now at their
mercy. Then, to their astonishment, they saw that they were confronted
by the new wall, whose existence they had not even suspected.
While they were hesitating a tremendous explosion took place. The
citizens had undermined the ravelin and placed a store of powder
there; and this was now fired, and the work flew into the air, with
all the soldiers who had entered.
The retreat was sounded at once, and the Spaniards fell back to
their camp, and thus a second time the burghers of Haarlem repulsed
an assault by an overwhelming force under the best generals of
Spain. The effect of these failures was so great that Don Frederick
resolved not to risk another defeat, but to abandon his efforts to
capture the city by sap or assault, and to resort to the slow but
sure process of famine. He was well aware that the stock of food in
the city was but small and the inhabitants were already suffering
severely, and he thought that they could not hold out much longer.
But greatly as the inhabitants suffered, the misery of the army
besieging them more than equalled their own. The intense cold
rendered it next to impossible to supply so large a force with
food; and small as were the rations of the inhabitants, they were
at least as large and more regularly delivered than those of the
troops. Moreover, the citizens who were not on duty could retire
to their comfortable houses; while the besiegers had but tents to
shelter them from the severity of the frosts. Cold and insufficient
food brought with them a train of diseases, and great numbers of
the soldiers died.
The cessation of the assaults tried the besieged even more than their
daily conflicts had done, for it is much harder to await death in
a slow and tedious form than to face it fighting. They could not
fully realize the almost hopeless prospect. Ere long the frost
would break up, and with it the chance of obtaining supplies or
reinforcements across the frozen lake would be at an end.
It was here alone that they could expect succour, for they knew
well enough that the prince could raise no army capable of cutting
its way through the great beleaguering force. In vain did they
attempt to provoke or anger the Spaniards into renewing their attacks.
Sorties were constantly made. The citizens gathered on the walls,
and with shouts and taunts of cowardice challenged the Spaniards
to come on; they even went to the length of dressing themselves
in the vestments of the churches, and contemptuously carrying the
sacred vessels in procession, in hopes of infuriating the Spaniards
into an attack. But Don Frederick and his generals were not to be
moved from their purpose.
The soldiers, suffering as much as the besiegers, would gladly have
brought matters to an issue one way or the other by again assaulting
the walls; but their officers restrained them, assuring them that
the city could not hold out long, and that they would have an ample
revenge when the time came. Life in the city was most monotonous
now. There was no stir of life or business; no one bought or sold;
and except the men who went to take their turn as sentries on the
wall, or the women who fetched the daily ration for the family
from the magazines, there was no occasion to go abroad. Fuel was
getting very scarce, and families clubbed together and gathered at
each others houses by turns, so that one fire did for all.
But at the end of February their sufferings from cold came to
an end, for the frost suddenly broke up; in a few days the ice on
the lake disappeared, and spring set in. The remaining cattle were
now driven out into the fields under the walls to gather food for
themselves. Strong guards went with them, and whenever the Spaniards
endeavoured to come down and drive them off, the citizens flocked
out and fought so desperately that the Spaniards ceased to molest
them; for as one of those present wrote, each captured bullock cost
the lives of at least a dozen soldiers.
Don Frederick himself had long since become heartily weary of the
siege, in which there was no honour to be gained, and which had
already cost the lives of so large a number of his best soldiers.
It did not seem to him that the capture of a weak city was worth
the price that had to be paid for it, and he wrote to his father
urging his views, and asking permission to raise the siege. But
the duke thought differently, and despatched an officer to his son
with this message: "Tell Don Frederick that if he be not decided
to continue the siege until the town be taken, I shall no longer
consider him my son. Should he fall in the siege I will myself
take the field to maintain it, and when we have both perished, the
duchess, my wife, shall come from Spain to do the same."
Inflamed by this reply Don Frederick recommenced active operations,
to the great satisfaction of the besieged. The batteries were
reopened, and daily contests took place. One night under cover of
a fog, a party of the besieged marched up to the principal Spanish
battery, and attempted to spike the guns. Every one of them was
killed round the battery, not one turning to fly. "The citizens,"
wrote Don Frederick, "do as much as the best soldiers in the world
could do."
As soon as the frost broke up Count Bossu, who had been building a
fleet of small vessels in Amsterdam, cut a breach through the dyke
and entered the lake, thus entirely cutting off communications. The
Prince of Orange on his part was building ships at the other end
of the lake, and was doing all in his power for the relief of the
city. He was anxiously waiting the arrival of troops from Germany
or France, and doing his best with such volunteers as he could
raise. These, however, were not numerous; for the Dutch, although
ready to fight to the death for the defence of their own cities
and families, had not yet acquired a national spirit, and all the
efforts of the prince failed to induce them to combine for any
general object.
His principal aim now was to cut the road along the dyke which
connected Amsterdam with the country round it. Could he succeed in
doing this, Amsterdam would be as completely cut off as was Haarlem,
and that city, as well as the Spanish army, would speedily be
starved out. Alva himself was fully aware of this danger, and wrote
to the king: "Since I came into this world I have never been in
such anxiety. If they should succeed in cutting off communication
along the dykes we should have to raise the siege of Haarlem, to
surrender, hands crossed, or to starve."
The prince, unable to gather sufficient men for this attempt,
sent orders to Sonoy, who commanded the small army in the north of
Holland, to attack the dyke between the Diemar Lake and the Y, to
open the sluices, and break through the dyke, by which means much
of the country round Haarlem would be flooded. Sonoy crossed the Y
in boats, seized the dyke, opened the sluices, and began the work
of cutting it through. Leaving his men so engaged, Sonoy went to
Edam to fetch up reinforcements. While he was away a large force
from Amsterdam came up, some marching along the causeway and some
in boats.
A fierce contest took place, the contending parties fighting partly
in boats, partly on the slippery causeway, that was wide enough but
for two men to stand abreast, partly in the water. But the number
of the assailants was too great, and the Dutch, after fighting
gallantly, lost heart and retired just as Sonoy, whose volunteers
from Edam had refused to follow him, arrived alone in a little boat.
He tried in vain to rally them, but was swept away by the rush of
fugitives, many of whom were, however, able to gain their boats and
make their retreat, thanks to the valour of John Haring of Horn,
who took his station on the dyke, and, armed with sword and shield,
actually kept in check a thousand of the enemy for a time long
enough to have enabled the Dutch to rally had they been disposed
to do so. But it was too late; and they had enough of fighting.
However, he held his post until many had made good their retreat,
and then, plunging into the sea, swam off to the boats and effected
his escape. A braver feat of arms was never accomplished.
Some hundreds of the Dutch were killed or captured. All the prisoners
were taken to the gibbets in the front of Haarlem, and hung, some
by the neck and some by the heels, in view of their countrymen,
while the head of one of their officers was thrown into the city.
As usual this act of ferocity excited the citizens to similar acts.
Two of the old board of magistrates belonging to the Spanish party,
with several other persons, were hung, and the wife and daughter
of one of them hunted into the water and drowned.
In the words of an historian, "Every man within and without Haarlem
seemed inspired by a spirit of special and personal vengeance."
Many, however, of the more gentle spirits were filled with horror
at these barbarities and the perpetual carnage going on. Captain
Curey, for example, one of the bravest officers of the garrison, who
had been driven to take up arms by the sufferings of his countrymen,
although he had naturally a horror of bloodshed, was subject to fits
of melancholy at the contemplation of these horrors. Brave in the
extreme, he led his men in every sortie, in every desperate struggle.
Fighting without defensive armour he was always in the thick of
the battle, and many of the Spaniards fell before his sword. On
his return he invariably took to his bed, and lay ill from remorse
and compunction till a fresh summons for action arrived, when, seized
by a sort of frenzy, he rose and led his men to fresh conflicts.
On the 25th of March a sally was made by a thousand of the besieged.
They drove in all the Spanish outposts, killed eight hundred of
the enemy, burnt three hundred tents, and captured seven cannons,
nine standards, and many wagon loads of provisions, all of which
they succeeded in bringing into the city.
The Duke of Alva, who had gone through nearly sixty years of warfare,
wrote to the king that "never was a place defended with such skill
and bravery as Haarlem," and that "it was a war such as never before
was seen or heard of in any land on earth." Three veteran Spanish
regiments now reinforced the besiegers, having been sent from
Italy to aid in overcoming the obstinate resistance of the city.
But the interest of the inhabitants was now centred rather on the
lake than upon the Spanish camp. It was from this alone that they
could expect succour, and it now swarmed with the Dutch and Spanish
vessels, between whom there were daily contests.
On the 28th of May the two fleets met in desperate fight. Admiral
Bossu had a hundred ships, most of considerable size. Martin Brand,
who commanded the Dutch, had a hundred and fifty, but of much
smaller size. The ships grappled with each other, and for hours a
furious contest raged. Several thousands of men were killed on both
sides, but at length weight prevailed and the victory was decided
in favour of the Spaniards. Twenty-two of the Dutch vessels were
captured and the rest routed. The Spanish fleet now sailed towards
Haarlem, landed their crews, and joined by a force from the army,
captured the forts the Dutch had erected and had hitherto held on
the shore of the lake, and through which their scanty supplies had
hitherto been received.
From the walls of the city the inhabitants watched the conflict,
and a wail of despair rose from them as they saw its issue. They
were now entirely cut off from all hope of succour, and their fate
appeared to be sealed. Nevertheless they managed to send a message
to the prince that they would hold out for three weeks longer in
hopes that he might devise some plan for their relief, and carrier
pigeons brought back word that another effort should be made
to save them. But by this time the magazines were empty. Hitherto
one pound of bread had been served out daily to each man and half
a pound to each woman, and on this alone they had for many weeks
subsisted; but the flour was now exhausted, and henceforth it was
a battle with starvation.
Every living creature that could be used as food was slain and eaten.
Grass and herbage of all kinds were gathered and cooked for food,
and under cover of darkness parties sallied out from the gates to
gather grass in the fields. The sufferings of the besieged were
terrible. So much were they reduced by weakness that they could
scarce drag themselves along the streets, and numbers died from
famine.
During the time that the supply of bread was served out Ned had
persuaded his aunt and the girls to put by a morsel of their food
each day.
"It will be the only resource when the city surrenders," he said.
"For four or five days at least the girls must remain concealed,
and during that time they must be fed. If they take in with them a
jar of water and a supply of those crusts which they can eat soaked
in the water, they can maintain life."
And so each day, as long as the bread lasted, a small piece was
put aside until a sufficient store was accumulated to last the two
girls for a week. Soon after the daily issue ceased. Frau Plomaert
placed the bag of crusts into Ned's hands.
"Take it away and hide it somewhere," she said; "and do not let
me know where you have put it, or we shall assuredly break into it
and use it before the time comes. I do not think now that, however
great the pressure, we would touch those crusts; but there is no
saying what we may do when we are gnawed by hunger. It is better,
anyhow, to put ourselves out of the way of temptation."
During the long weeks of June Ned found it hard to keep the precious
store untouched. His aunt's figure had shrunk to a shadow of her
former self, and she was scarce able to cross the room. The girls'
cheeks were hollow and bloodless with famine, and although none of
them ever asked him to break in upon the store, their faces pleaded
more powerfully than any words could have done; and yet they were
better off than many, for every night Ned either went out from the
gates or let himself down by a rope from the wall and returned with
a supply of grass and herbage.
It was fortunate for the girls that there was no necessity to go
out of doors, for the sights there would have shaken the strongest.
Men, women, and children fell dead by scores in the streets, and
the survivors had neither strength nor heart to carry them away
and bury them. On the 1st of July the burghers hung out a flag
of truce, and deputies went out to confer with Don Frederick. The
latter, however, would grant no terms whatever, and they returned
to the city. Two days later a tremendous cannonade was opened upon
the town, and the walls broken down in several places, but the
Spaniards did not advance to the assault, knowing that the town
could not hold out many days longer.
Two more parleys were held, but without result, and the black flag
was hoisted upon the cathedral tower as a signal of despair; but
soon afterwards a pigeon flew into the town with a letter from the
prince, begging them to hold out for two days longer, as succour
was approaching. The prince had indeed done all that was possible.
He assembled the citizens of Delft in the marketplace, and said
that if any troops could be gathered he would march in person at
their head to the relief of the city. There were no soldiers to be
obtained; but 4000 armed volunteers from the various Dutch cities
assembled, and 600 mounted troops. The prince placed himself at
their head, but the magistrates and burghers of the towns would
not allow him to hazard a life so indispensable to the existence
of Holland, and the troops themselves refused to march unless
he abandoned his intention. He at last reluctantly consented, and
handed over the command of the expedition to Baron Batenburg.
On the 8th of July at dusk the expedition set out from Sassenheim,
taking with them four hundred wagon loads of provisions and seven
cannon. They halted in the woods, and remained till midnight.
Then they again marched forward, hoping to be able to surprise the
Spaniards and make their way through before these could assemble
in force. The agreement had been made that signal fires should
be lighted, and that the citizens should sally out to assist the
relieving force as it approached. Unfortunately two pigeons with
letters giving the details of the intended expedition had been
shot while passing over the Spanish camp, and the besiegers were
perfectly aware of what was going to be done. Opposite the point
at which the besieged were to sally out the Spaniards collected
a great mass of green branches, pitch, and straw. Five thousand
troops were stationed behind it, while an overwhelming force was
stationed to attack the relieving army.
When night fell the pile of combustibles was lighted, and gave out
so dense a smoke that the signal fires lighted by Batenburg were
hidden from the townspeople. As soon as the column advanced from
the wood they were attacked by an overwhelming force of the enemy.
Batenburg was killed and his troops utterly routed, with the loss,
according to the Dutch accounts, of from five to six hundred, but
of many more according to Spanish statements. The besieged, ranged
under arms, heard the sound of the distant conflict, but as they
had seen no signal fires believed that it was only a device of the
Spaniards to tempt them into making a sally, and it was not until
morning, when Don Frederick sent in a prisoner with his nose and
ears cut off to announce the news, that they knew that the last
effort to save them had failed.
The blow was a terrible one, and there was great commotion in the
town. After consultation the garrison and the able bodied citizens
resolved to issue out in a solid column, and to cut their way
through the enemy or perish. It was thought that if the women, the
helpless, and infirm alone remained in the city they would be treated
with greater mercy after all the fighting men had been slain. But
as soon as this resolution became known the women and children
issued from the houses with loud cries and tears. The burghers were
unable to withstand their entreaties that all should die together,
and it was then resolved that the fighting men should be formed
into a hollow square, in which the women, children, sick, and
aged should be gathered, and so to sally out, and either win a way
through the camp or die together.
But the news of this resolve reached the ears of Don Frederick. He
knew now what the burghers of Haarlem were capable of, and thought
that they would probably fire the city before they left, and thus
leaving nothing but a heap of ashes as a trophy of his victory. He
therefore sent a letter to the magistrates, in the name of Count
Overstein, commander of the German forces in the besieging army,
giving a solemn assurance that if they surrendered at discretion
no punishment should be inflicted except upon those who, in the
judgment of the citizens themselves, had deserved it.
At the moment of sending the letter Don Frederick was in possession
of strict orders from his father not to leave a man alive of the
garrison, with the exception of the Germans, and to execute a large
number of the burghers. On the receipt of this letter the city
formally surrendered on the 10th of July. The great bell was tolled,
and orders were issued that all arms should be brought to the town
hall, that the women should assemble in the cathedral and the men
in the cloister of Zyl. Then Don Frederick with his staff rode
into the city. The scene which met their eyes was a terrible one.
Everywhere were ruins of houses which had been set on fire by the
Spanish artillery, the pavement had been torn up to repair the
gaps in the walls, unburied bodies of men and women were scattered
about the streets, while those still alive were mere shadows scarcely
able to maintain their feet.
No time was lost in commencing the massacre. All the officers were
at once put to death. The garrison had been reduced during the siege
from 4000 to 1800. Of these the Germans--600 in number--were
allowed to depart. The remaining 1200 were immediately butchered,
with at least as many of the citizens. Almost every citizen
distinguished by service, station, or wealth was slaughtered, and
from day to day five executioners were kept constantly at work.
The city was not sacked, the inhabitants agreeing to raise a great
sum of money as a ransom.
As soon as the surrender was determined upon, Ned helped his cousins
into the refuge prepared for them, passed in the bread and water,
walled up the hole and whitewashed it, his aunt being too weak to
render any assistance. Before they entered he opened the bag and
took out a few crusts.
"You must eat something now, aunt," he said. "It may be a day or
two before any food is distributed, and it is no use holding on so
long to die of hunger when food is almost in sight. There is plenty
in the bag to last the girls for a week. You must eat sparingly,
girls,--not because there is not enough food, but because after
fasting so long it is necessary for you at first to take food in
very small quantities."
The bread taken out was soaked, and it swelled so much in the water
that it made much more than he had expected. He therefore divided
it in half, and a portion made an excellent meal for Ned and his
aunt, the remaining being carefully put by for the following day.
An hour or two after eating the meal Frau Plomaert felt so
much stronger that she was able to obey the order to go up to the
cathedral. Ned went with the able bodied men to the cloisters. The
Spaniards soon came among them, and dragged off numbers of those
whom they thought most likely to have taken a prominent part in
the fighting, to execution. As they did not wish others from whom
money could be wrung to escape from their hands, they presently
issued some food to the remainder. The women, after remaining for
some hours in the cathedral, were suffered to depart to their homes,
for their starving condition excited the compassion even of the
Spaniards; and the atrocities which had taken place at the sacks
of Mechlin, Zutphen and Naarden, were not repeated in Haarlem.
The next day the men were also released; not from any ideas of
mercy, but in order that when they returned to their homes the work
of picking out the better class for execution could be the more
easily carried on. For three days longer the girls remained in
their hiding, and were then allowed to come out, as Ned felt now
that the danger of general massacre was averted.
"Now, Ned," his aunt said, "you must stay here no longer. Every
day we hear proclamations read in the streets that all sheltering
refugees and others not belonging to the town will be punished with
death; and, as you know, every stranger caught has been murdered."
This they had heard from some of the neighbours. Ned himself had
not stirred out since he returned from the cloisters; for his aunt
had implored him not to do so, as it would only be running useless
risk.
"I hear," she went on, "that they have searched many houses for
fugitives, and it is probable the hunt may become even more strict;
therefore I think, Ned, that for our sake as well as your own you
had better try to escape."
"I quite agree with you, aunt. Now that the worst is over, and
I know that you and the girls are safe, no good purpose could be
served by my staying; and being both a stranger and one who has
fought here, I should certainly be killed if they laid hands on me.
As to escaping, I do not think there can be any difficulty about
that. I have often let myself down from the walls, and can do
so again; and although there is a strict watch kept at the gates
to prevent any leaving until the Spaniards' thirst for blood is
satisfied, there can be no longer any vigilant watch kept up by
the troops encamped outside, and I ought certainly to be able to
get through them at night. It will be dark in a couple of hours,
and as soon as it is so I will be off."
The girls burst into tears at the thought of Ned's departure.
During the seven long months the siege had lasted he had been as
a brother to them--keeping up their spirits by his cheerfulness,
looking after their safety, and as far as possible after their
comfort, and acting as the adviser and almost as the head of the
house. His aunt was almost equally affected, for she had come to
lean entirely upon him and to regard him as a son.
"It is best that it should be so, Ned; but we shall all miss you
sorely. It may be that I shall follow your advice and come over to
England on a long visit. Now that I know you so well it will not
seem like going among strangers, as it did before; for although
I met your father and mother whenever they came over to Vordwyk,
I had not got to know them as I know you. I shall talk the matter
over with my father. Of course everything depends upon what is
going to happen in Holland."
Ned did not tell his aunt that her father had been one of the first
dragged out from the cloisters for execution, and that her sister,
who kept house for him, had died three days previous to the surrender.
His going away was grief enough for her for one day, and he turned
the conversation to other matters until night fell, when, after a
sad parting, he made his way to the walls, having wound round his
waist the rope by which he had been accustomed to lower himself.
The executions in Haarlem continued for two days after he had left,
and then the five executioners were so weary of slaying that the
three hundred prisoners who still remained for execution were tied
back to back and thrown into the lake.