THE "SPANISH FURY"
In a very short time the countess and her daughter returned to the
room where Ned was awaiting them. Each carried a handbag.
"We are ready now," the countess said. "I have my jewels and purse.
As for the things we leave behind, they are scarce worth the taking
by the Spaniards."
Locking the door of the house behind them the three women accompanied
Ned down to the riverside. He took the first boat that came to
hand and rowed them down to the fleet, which was moored a quarter
of a mile below the town. He passed the first ship or two, and then
rowed to one with whose captain he was acquainted.
"Captain Enkin," he said, "I have brought on board two ladies who
have long been in hiding, waiting an opportunity of being taken to
Holland--the Countess Von Harp and her daughter. I fear greatly
that Antwerp will fall today, and wish, therefore, to place them
in safety before the fight begins. Before sunset, unless I am
mistaken, you will have a crowd of fugitives on board."
"I am very pleased, madam," the captain said, bowing to the countess,
"to receive you, and beg to hand over my cabin for your use. The
name you bear is known to all Dutchmen; and even were it not so,
anyone introduced to me by my good friend Captain Martin would be
heartily welcome.
"Are you going to return on shore?" he asked Ned.
"Yes, I must do so," Ned replied. "I promised the governor to
stand by him to the last; and as he has scarce a soul on whom he
can rely, it is clearly my duty to do so. It is not for me to shirk
doing my duty as long as I can, because I fear that the day will
go against us."
"You will have difficulty in getting off again if the Spaniards
once enter the city," the captain said. "There will be such a rush
to the boats that they will be swamped before they leave shore."
"I have a boat hidden away in which I hope to bring off the governor
with me," Ned replied. "As to myself, I can swim like a fish."
"Mind and get rid of your armour before you try it. All the swimming
in the world could not save you if you jumped in with all that
steel mail on you."
"I will bear it in mind," Ned said. "Goodbye, countess. Good-bye,
Fraulein Gertrude. I trust to see you at nightfall, if not before."
"That is a very gallant young officer," Captain Enkin said as the
two ladies sat watching Ned as he rowed to the shore.
"You addressed him as Captain Martin?" the countess said.
"Yes, he has been a captain in the prince's service fully three
years," the sailor said; "and fought nobly at Alkmaar, at the
naval battle on the Zuider Zee, and in the sea fight when we drove
Romero's fleet back in Bergen. He stands very high in the confidence
of the prince, but I do not think he is in our service now. He
is often with the prince, but I believe he comes and goes between
England and Holland, and is, men say, the messenger by whom private
communications between the queen of England and the prince are
chiefly carried."
"He is young to have such confidence reposed in him," the countess
said.
"Yes, he is young," Captain Enkin replied. "Not, I suppose, beyond
seven or eight and twenty. He was a captain and high in the prince's
confidence when I first knew him three years ago, so he must surely
have been four or five and twenty then; and yet, indeed, now you
speak of it, methinks he is greatly bigger now than he was then.
I do not think he was much taller than I am, and now he tops me
by nigh a head. But I must surely be mistaken as to that, for the
prince would scarcely place his confidence in a mere lad."
The countess made no reply, though she exchanged a quiet smile
with her daughter. They knew that Ned could not be much more than
twenty. He was, he had said, about three years older than Gertrude,
and she had passed seventeen but by a few months.
Ned, on returning to shore, tied up the boat, and then proceeded
to the palace of the governor. A servant was holding a horse at
the door.
"The governor ordered this horse to be ready and saddled for you,
sir, when you arrived, and begged you to join him at once in the
marketplace, where he is telling off the troops to their various
stations."
Leaping on the horse, Ned rode to the marketplace, and at once
placed himself under orders of the governor.
"There is nothing much for you to do at present," Champagny said.
"The troops are all in their places, and we are ready when they
deliver the assault."
It was not until eleven o'clock that the Spaniards advanced to the
attack--3000 of them, under their Eletto, by the street of St.
Michael; the remainder with the Germans, commanded by Romero, by
that of St. George. No sooner did the compact masses approach the
barricades than the Walloons, who had been so loud in their boasts
of valour, and had insisted upon having the post of danger, broke
and fled, their commander, Havre, at their head; and the Spaniards,
springing over the ramparts, poured into the streets.
"Fetch up the Germans from the exchange!" Champagny shouted to
Ned; and leaping his horse over a garden wall, he himself rode to
another station and brought up the troops there, and led them in
person to bar the road to the enemy, trying in vain to rally the
flying Walloons he met on the way. For a few minutes the two parties
of Germans made a brave stand; but they were unable to resist the
weight and number of the Spaniards, who bore them down by sheer
force. Champagny had fought gallantly in the melee, and Ned, keeping
closely beside him, had well seconded his efforts; but when the
Germans were borne down they rode off, dashing through the streets
and shouting to the burghers everywhere to rise in defence of their
homes.
They answered to the appeal. The bodies already collected at the
exchange and cattle market moved forward, and from every house the
men poured out. The Spanish columns had already divided, and were
pouring down the streets with savage cries. The German cavalry
of Havre under Van Eude at once deserted, and joining the Spanish
cavalry fell upon the townsmen. In vain the burghers and such of
the German infantry as remained faithful strove to resist their
assailants. Although they had been beaten off in their assaults
upon breaches, the Spaniards had ever proved themselves invincible
on level ground; and now, inspired alike by the fury for slaughter
and the lust for gold, there was no withstanding them.
Round the exchange some of the bravest defenders made a rally, and
burghers and Germans, mingled together, fought stoutly until they
were all slain.
There was another long struggle round the town hall, one of the
most magnificent buildings in Europe; and for a time the resistance
was effective, until the Spanish cavalry and the Germans under the
traitor Van Eude charged down upon the defenders. Then they took
refuge in the buildings, and every house became a fortress, and from
window and balcony a hot fire was poured into the square. But now
a large number of camp followers who had accompanied the Spaniards
came up with torches, which had been specially prepared for firing
the town, and in a short time the city hall and other edifices in
the square were in flames.
The fire spread rapidly from house to house and from street to
street, until nearly a thousand buildings in the most splendid and
wealthy portion of the city were in a blaze.
In the street behind the town hall a last stand was made. Here the
margrave of the city, the burgomasters, senators, soldiers, and
citizens fought to the last, until not one remained to wield a sword.
When resistance had ceased the massacre began. Women, children,
and old men were killed in vast numbers, or driven into the river
to drown there.
Then the soldiers scattered on the work of plunder. The flames had
already snatched treasures estimated at six millions from their
grasp, but there was still abundance for all. The most horrible
tortures were inflicted upon men, women, and children to force
them to reveal the hiding places, where they were supposed to have
concealed their wealth, and for three days a pandemonium reigned
in the city. Two thousand five hundred had been slain, double that
number burned and drowned. These are the lowest estimates, many
placing the killed at very much higher figures.
Champagny had fought very valiantly, joining any party of soldiers
or citizens he saw making a defence. At last, when the town hall
was in flames and all hope over, he said to Ned, who had kept
throughout the day at his side: "It is no use throwing away our
lives. Let us cut our way out of the city."
"I have a boat lying in readiness at the bridge," Ned said. "If we
can once reach the stairs we can make our way off to the fleet."
As they approached the river they saw a Spanish column crossing the
street ahead of them. Putting spurs to their horses they galloped
on at full speed, and bursting into it hewed their way through and
continued their course, followed, however, by a number of Spanish
infantry.
"These are the steps!" Ned exclaimed, leaping from his horse.
Champagny followed his example. The Spaniards were but twenty yards
behind.
"If you pull on that rope attached to the ring a boat lying under
the bridge will come to you," Ned said. "I will keep them back till
you are ready."
Ned turned and faced the Spaniards, and for two or three minutes
kept them at bay. His armour was good, and though many blows struck
him he was uninjured, while several of the Spaniards fell under
his sweeping blows. They fell back for a moment, surprised at his
strength; and at this instant the governor called out that all was
ready.
Ned turned and rushed down the steps. The governor was already
in the boat. Ned leaped on board, and with a stroke of his sword
severed the head rope. Before the leading Spaniards reached the
bottom of the steps the boat was a length away. Ned seated himself,
and seizing the oars rowed down the river. Several shots were fired
at them from the bridge and wharves as they went, but they passed
on uninjured. Ned rowed to the admiral's ship and left the governor
there, and then rowed to that of Captain Enkin.
"Welcome back," the captain said heartily. "I had begun to fear
that ill had befallen you. A few fugitives came off at noon with
the news that the Spaniards had entered the city and all was lost.
Since then the roar of musketry, mingled with shouts and yells, has
been unceasing, and that tremendous fire in the heart of the city
told its own tale. For the last three hours the river has been full
of floating corpses; and the countess and her daughter, who until
then remained on deck, retired to pray in their cabin. The number
of fugitives who have reached the ships is very small. Doubtless
they crowded into such boats as there were and sank them. At any
rate, but few have made their way out, and those chiefly at the
beginning of the fight. Now we had best let the ladies know you
are here, for they have been in the greatest anxiety about you."
Ned went to the cabin door and knocked. "I have returned, countess."
In a moment the door opened. "Welcome back, indeed, Captain Martin,"
she said. "We had begun to fear that we should never see you again.
Thankful indeed am I that you have escaped through this terrible
day. Are you unhurt?" she asked, looking at his bruised and dented
armour and at his clothes, which were splashed with blood.
"I have a few trifling cuts," he replied, "but nothing worth speaking
of. I am truly thankful, countess, that you and your daughter put
off with me this morning."
"Yes, indeed," the countess said. "I shudder when I think what
would have happened had we been there in the city. What a terrible
sight it is!"
"It is, indeed," Ned replied. The shades of night had now fallen,
and over a vast space the flames were mounting high, and a pall of
red smoke, interspersed with myriads of sparks and flakes of fire,
hung over the captured city. Occasional discharges of guns were
still heard, and the shrieks of women and the shouts of men rose
in confused din. It was an immense relief to all on board when
an hour later the admiral, fearing that the Spaniards might bring
artillery to bear upon the fleet, ordered the anchors to be weighed,
and the fleet to drop a few miles below the town.
After taking off his armour, washing the blood from his wounds and
having them bound up, and attiring himself in a suit lent him by
the captain until he should get to Delft, where he had left his
valise, Ned partook of a good meal, for he had taken nothing but
a manchet of bread and a cup of wine since the previous night.
He then went into the cabin and spent the evening in conversation
with the countess and her daughter, the latter of whom had changed
since they had last met to the full as much as he had himself done.
She had been a girl of fourteen--slim and somewhat tall for her
age, and looking pale and delicate from the life of confinement and
anxiety they had led at Brussels, and their still greater anxiety
at Maastricht. She was now budding into womanhood. Her figure was
lissome and graceful, her face was thoughtful and intelligent,
and gave promise of rare beauty in another year or two. He learned
that they had remained for a time in the village to which they had
first gone, and had then moved to another a few miles away, and
had there lived quietly in a small house placed at their disposal
by one of their friends. Here they had remained unmolested until two
months before, when the excesses committed throughout the country
by the mutinous soldiery rendered it unsafe for anyone to live
outside the walls of the town. They then removed to Antwerp, where
there was far more religious toleration than at Brussels; and the
countess had resumed her own name, though still living in complete
retirement in the house in which Ned had so fortunately found her.
"The times have altered me for the better," the countess said. "The
Spaniards have retired from that part of Friesland where some of
my estates are situated, and those to whom Alva granted them have
had to fly. I have a faithful steward there, and since they have
left he has collected the rents and has remitted to me such portions
as I required, sending over the rest to England to the charge of
a banker there. As it may be that the Spaniards will again sweep
over Friesland, where they still hold some of the principal towns,
I thought it best, instead of having my money placed in Holland,
where no one can foresee the future, to send it to England, where
at least one can find a refuge and a right to exercise our religion."
"I would that you would go there at once, countess; for surely at
present Holland is no place for two unprotected ladies. Nothing
would give my mother greater pleasure than to receive you until you
can find a suitable home for yourselves. My sisters are but little
older than your daughter, and would do all in their power to make
her at home. They too speak your language, and there are thousands
of your compatriots in London."
"What do you say, Gertrude?" the countess asked. "But I know that
your mind has been so long made up that it is needless to question
you."
"Yes, indeed, mother, I would gladly go away anywhere from here,
where for the last six years there has been nothing but war and
bloodshed. If we could go back and live in Friesland among our
own people in safety and peace I should be delighted to do so, but
this country is as strange to us as England would be. Our friends
stand aloof from us, and we are ever in fear either of persecution
or murder by the Spanish soldiers. I should be so glad to be away
from it all; and, as Captain Martin says, there are so many of our
own people in London, that it would scarce feel a strange land to
us."
"You have said over and over again that you would gladly go if you
could get away, and now that we can do so, surely it will be better
and happier for us than to go on as we have done. Of course it
would be better in Holland than it has been here for the last four
years, because we should be amongst Protestants; but we should be
still exposed to the dangers of invasion and the horrors of sieges."
"It is as my daughter says, Captain Martin; our thoughts have long
been turning to England as a refuge. In the early days of the
troubles I had thought of France, where so many of our people went,
but since St. Bartholomew it has been but too evident that there is
neither peace nor safety for those of the religion there, and that
in England alone can we hope to be permitted to worship unmolested.
Therefore, now that the chance is open to us, we will not refuse
it. I do not say that we will cross at once. We have many friends
at Rotterdam and Delft, and the prince held my husband in high
esteem in the happy days before the troubles; therefore I shall
tarry there for a while, but it will be for a time only. It will
not be long before the Spanish again resume their war of conquest;
besides, we are sick of the tales of horror that come to us daily,
and long for calm and tranquillity, which we cannot hope to obtain
in Holland. Had I a husband or brothers I would share their fate
whatever it was, but being alone and unable to aid the cause in
any way it would be folly to continue here and endure trials and
risks. You say that you come backwards and forwards often, well
then in two months we shall be ready to put ourselves under your
protection and to sail with you for England."
The next morning the admiral despatched a ship to Rotterdam with
the news of the fate of Antwerp, and Ned obtained a passage in her
for himself, the ladies, and servant, and on arriving at Rotterdam
saw them bestowed in comfortable lodgings. He then, after an
interview with the prince, went on board a ship just leaving for
England, and upon his arrival reported to the minister, and afterwards
to the queen herself, the terrible massacre of which he had been
a witness in Antwerp.
The Spanish fury, as the sack of Antwerp was termed, vastly enriched
the soldiers, but did small benefit to the cause of Spain. The
attack was wanton and unprovoked. Antwerp had not risen in rebellion
against Philip, but had been attacked solely for the sake of plunder;
and all Europe was shocked at the atrocities that had taken place,
and at the slaughter, which was even greater than the massacre
in Paris on the eve of St. Bartholomew. The queen remonstrated in
indignant terms, the feeling among the Protestants in Germany was
equally strong, and even in France public feeling condemned the
act.
In the Netherlands the feeling of horror and indignation was
universal. The fate that had befallen Antwerp might be that of
any other sister city. Everywhere petitions were signed in favour
of the unity of all the Netherlands under the Prince of Orange.
Philip's new governor, Don John, had reached the Netherlands on
the very day of the sack of Antwerp, and endeavoured to allay the
storm of indignation it had excited by various concessions; but
the feeling of unity, and with it of strength, had grown so rapidly
that the demands of the commissioners advanced in due proportion,
and they insisted upon nothing less than the restoration of their
ancient constitution, the right to manage their internal affairs,
and the departure of all the Spanish troops from the country.
Don John parleyed and parried the demands, and months were spent
in unprofitable discussions, while all the time he was working
secretly among the nobles of Brabant and Flanders, who were little
disposed to see with complacency the triumph of the democracy
of the towns and the establishment of religious toleration. Upon
all other points Don John and his master were ready to yield. The
Spanish troops were sent away to Italy, the Germans only being
retained. The constitutional rights would all have been conceded,
but on the question of religious tolerance Philip stood firm.
At last, seeing that no agreement would ever be arrived at, both
parties prepared again for war.
The Queen of England had lent 100,000 pounds on the security of the
cities, and the pause in hostilities during the negotiations had
not been altogether wasted in Holland. There had been a municipal
insurrection in Amsterdam; the magistrates devoted to Philip had
been driven out, and to the great delight of Holland, Amsterdam,
its capital, that had long been a stronghold of the enemy, a
gate through which he could at will pour his forces, was restored
to it. In Antwerp, and several other of the cities of Brabant and
Flanders, the citizens razed the citadels by which they had been
overawed; men, women, and children uniting in the work, tearing
down and carrying away the stones of the fortress, that had worked
them such evil.
Antwerp had at the departure of the Spanish troops been again
garrisoned by Germans, who had remained inactive during this
exhibition of the popular will. The Prince of Orange himself had
paid a visit to the city, and had, at the invitation of Brussels,
proceeded there, and had received an enthusiastic reception, and
for a time it seemed that the plans for which so many years he had
struggled were at last to be crowned with success. But his hopes
were frustrated by the treachery of the nobles and the cowardice
of the army the patriots had engaged in their service.
Many of the Spanish troops had been secretly brought back again,
and Don John was preparing for a renewal of war.
Unknown to the Prince of Orange, numbers of the nobles had invited
the Archduke Mathias, brother of the Emperor Rudolph of Germany,
to assume the government. Mathias, without consultation with his
brother, accepted the invitation and journeyed privately to the
Netherlands. Had the Prince of Orange declared against him he must
at once have returned to Vienna, but this would have aroused the
anger of the emperor and the whole of Germany. Had the prince upon
the other hand abandoned the field and retired into Holland, he
would have played into the hands of his adversaries. Accordingly
he received Mathias at Antwerp with great state, and the archduke
was well satisfied to place himself in the hands of the most powerful
man in the country.
The prince's position was greatly strengthened by the queen
instructing her ministers to inform the envoy of the Netherlands
that she would feel compelled to withdraw all succour of the states
if the Prince of Orange was deprived of his leadership, as it was
upon him alone that she relied for success. The prince was thereupon
appointed Ruward of Brabant, a position almost analogous to that
of dictator. Ghent, which was second only in importance to Antwerp,
rose almost immediately, turned out the Catholic authorities, and
declared in favour of the prince. A new act of union was signed
at Brussels, and the Estates General passed a resolution declaring
Don John to be no longer governor or stadtholder of the Netherlands.
The Prince of Orange was appointed lieutenant general for Mathias,
and the actual power of the latter was reduced to a nullity, but
he was installed at Brussels with the greatest pomp and ceremony.
Don John, who had by this time collected an army of 20,000 veterans
at Namur, and had been joined by the Prince of Parma, a general
of great vigour and ability, now marched against the army of the
Estates, of which the command had been given to the nobles of the
country in the hope of binding them firmly to the national cause.
The patriot army fell back before that of the Spaniards, but were
soon engaged by a small body of cavalry. Alexander of Parma came
up with some 1200 horse, dashed boldly across a dangerous swamp,
and fell upon their flank. The Estates cavalry at once turned and
fled, and Parma then fell upon the infantry, and in the course of
an hour not only defeated but almost exterminated them, from 7000
to 8000 being killed, and 600 taken prisoners, the latter being
executed without mercy by Don John. The loss of the Spaniards was
only about ten men. This extraordinary disproportion of numbers,
and the fact that 1200 men so easily defeated a force ten times
more numerous, completely dashed to the ground the hopes of the
Netherlands, and showed how utterly incapable were its soldiers of
contending in the field with the veterans of Spain.
The battle was followed by the rapid reduction of a large number of
towns, most of which surrendered without resistance as soon as the
Spanish troops approached. In the meantime the Estates had assembled
another army, which was joined by one composed of 12,000 Germans
under Duke Casimir. Both armies were rendered inactive by want of
funds, and the situation was complicated by the entry of the Duke
of Alencon, the brother of the King of France, into the Netherlands.
Don John, the hero of the battle of Lepanto, who had shown himself
on many battlefields to be at once a great commander and a valiant
soldier, was prostrate by disease, brought on by vexation, partly
at the difficulties he had met with since his arrival in the
Netherlands, partly at the neglect of Spain to furnish him with
money with which he could set his army, now numbering 30,000, in
motion, and sweep aside all resistance. At this critical moment
his malady increased, and after a week's illness he expired, just
two years after his arrival in the Netherlands.
He was succeeded at first temporarily and afterwards permanently
by Alexander of Parma, also a great commander, and possessing far
greater resolution than his unfortunate predecessor.
The two years had been spent by Edward Martin in almost incessant
journeyings between London and the Netherlands. He now held, however,
a position much superior to that which he had formerly occupied.
The queen, after hearing from him his account of the sack of Antwerp
and his share in the struggle, had said to the Secretary, "I think
that it is only just that we should bestow upon Captain Martin
some signal mark of our approbation at the manner in which he has
for two years devoted himself to our service, and that without pay
or reward, but solely from his loyalty to our person, and from his
goodwill towards the state. Kneel, Captain Martin."
The queen took the sword that Walsingham handed to her, and said,
"Rise, Sir Edward Martin. You will draw out, Mr. Secretary, our new
knight's appointment as our special envoy to the Prince of Orange;
and see that he has proper appointments for such a post. His duties
will, as before, be particular to myself and the prince, and will
not clash in any way with those of our envoy at the Hague."
The delight of Ned's mother and sisters when he returned home and
informed them of the honour that the queen had been pleased to
bestow upon him was great indeed. His father said:
"Well, Ned, I must congratulate you with the others; though I had
hoped to make a sailor of you. However, circumstances have been too
much for me. I own that you have been thrust into this work rather
by fortune than design; and as it is so I am heartily glad that
you have succeeded. It seems strange to me that my boy should have
become Sir Edward Martin, an officer in the service of her majesty,
and I say frankly that just at present I would rather that it had
been otherwise. But I suppose I shall get accustomed to it in time,
and assuredly none but myself will doubt for a moment that you have
gained greatly by all this honour and dignity."
Queen Elizabeth, although in some respects parsimonious in the
extreme, was liberal to her favourites, and the new made knight
stood high in her liking. She loved to have good looking men about
her; and without being actually handsome, Ned Martin, with his
height and breadth of shoulder, his easy and upright carriage, his
frank, open face and sunny smile, was pleasant to look upon. He had
served her excellently for two years, had asked for no rewards or
favours, but had borne himself modestly, and been content to wait.
Therefore the queen was pleased to order her treasurer to issue
a commission to Sir Edward Martin, as her majesty's special envoy
to the Prince of Orange, with such appointments as would enable
him handsomely to support his new dignity and his position as her
representative.
Even Captain Martin was now bound to confess that Ned had gained
profit as well as honour. He did indeed warn his son not to place
too much confidence in princes; but Ned replied, "I do not think the
queen is fickle in her likes and dislikes, father. But I rely not
upon this, but on doing my duty to the state for further employment.
I have had extraordinary good fortune, too; and have, without any
merit save that of always doing my best, mounted step by step from
the deck of the Good Venture to knighthood and employment by the
state. The war appears to me to be as far from coming to an end
as it did six years ago; and if I continue to acquit myself to the
satisfaction of the lord treasurer and council, I hope that at its
conclusion I may be employed upon such further work as I am fitted
for."
"You speak rightly, Ned; and I am wrong to feel anxiety about your
future when you have already done so well. And now, Ned, you had
best go into the city and order from some tailor who supplies the
court such suits as are fitting to your new rank. The queen loves
brave dresses and bright colours, and you must cut as good a figure
as the rest. You have been somewhat of an expense to me these last two
years; but that is over now, and I can well afford the additional
outlay to start you worthily. What was good enough for Captain
Martin is not good enough for Sir Edward Martin; therefore stint
not expense in any way. I should not like that you should not hold
your own with the young fops of the court."
It was well that Ned had provided himself with a new outfit, for
he was not sent abroad again for more than a month, and during
that time he was almost daily at court, receiving from the royal
chamberlain a notification that the queen expected to see him at
all entertainments. At the first of these Lord Walsingham introduced
him to many of the young nobles of the court, speaking very highly
of the services he had rendered; and as the queen was pleased to
speak often to him and to show him marked favour, he was exceedingly
well received, and soon found himself at ease.
He was, nevertheless, glad when the order came for him to proceed
again to Holland with messages to the Prince of Orange. Upon his
arrival there he was warmly congratulated by the prince.
"You have well earned your rank," the prince said. "I take some pride
to myself in having so soon discovered that you had good stuff in
you. There are some friends of yours here who will be glad to hear
of the honour that has befallen you. The Countess Von Harp and her
daughter have been here for the last six weeks. I have seen them
several times, and upon each occasion they spoke to me of their
gratitude for the services you have rendered them. One of my pages
will show you where they are lodging. They are about to proceed to
England, and I think their decision is a wise one, for this country
is at present no place for unprotected women."
The countess and her daughter were alike surprised and pleased
when Ned was announced as Sir Edward Martin. And when a fortnight
later Ned sailed for England, they took passage in the same ship.
Ned had sent word to his mother by a vessel that sailed a week
previously that they would arrive with him, and the best room in
the house had been got in readiness for them, and they received
a hearty welcome from Ned's parents and sisters. They stayed a
fortnight there and then established themselves in a pretty little
house in the village of Dulwich. One of Ned's sisters accompanied
them to stay for a time as Gertrude's friend and companion.
Whenever Ned returned home he was a frequent visitor at Dulwich,
and at the end of two years his sisters were delighted but not
surprised when he returned one day and told them that Gertrude
Von Harp had accepted him. The marriage was not to take place for
a time; for Ned was still young, and the countess thought it had
best be delayed. She was now receiving a regular income from her
estates; for it had been a time of comparative peace in Holland,
and that country was increasing fast in wealth and prosperity.
Alexander of Parma had by means of his agents corrupted the greater
part of the nobility of Flanders and Brabant, had laid siege to
Maastricht, and, after a defence even more gallant and desperate
than that of Haarlem, and several terrible repulses of his soldiers,
had captured the city and put the greater part of its inhabitants--men
and women--to the sword. After vain entreaties to Elizabeth
to assume the sovereignty of the Netherlands, this had been offered
to the Duke of Anjou, brother of the King of France.
The choice appeared to be a politic one, for Anjou was at the time
the all but accepted suitor of Queen Elizabeth, and it was thought
that the choice would unite both powers in defence of Holland. The
duke, however, speedily proved his incapacity. Irritated at the
smallness of the authority granted him, and the independent attitude
of the great towns, he attempted to capture them by force. He was
successful in several places; but at Antwerp, where the French
thought to repeat the Spanish success and to sack the city, the
burghers gathered so strongly and fiercely that the French troops
employed were for the most part killed, those who survived being
ignominiously taken prisoners.
Anjou retired with his army, losing a large number of men on his
retreat by the bursting of a dyke and the flooding of the country.
By this time the Prince of Orange had accepted the sovereignty of
Holland and Zeeland, which was now completely separated from the
rest of the Netherlands. After the flight of Anjou he received many
invitations from the other provinces to accept their sovereignty;
but he steadily refused, having no personal ambition, and knowing
well that no reliance whatever could be placed upon the nobles of
Brabant and Flanders.