BOMMEL.
What mad jest is this, my masters?
I know not where the damsel lives, not I;
But see to it, that ye molest her not!--OLD PLAY.
After passing Alphen, Sir Patrick crossed an old stone bridge, and
found himself in the Bommelerwaard, a fertile island, formed by the
Waal and the Maese; and about noon, he reached the object of his
destination, the quaint and ancient town of Zalt-Bommel, which stands
upon the left bank of the former river.
The ducal banner of Arnold d'Egmont was waving on the castle built by
Otho III. of Nassau, count of Gueldres, who walled the city in 1299,
and therein dwelt Jacques de Lalain, the governor, then named the
Dyck Graf, who kept the town in awe with his cannon, but more by his
sluices, by opening which, he could lay the whole district under water,
and drown every citizen in five minutes.
While riding forward, Gray had revolved in his mind, a hundred plans
for making himself known to Murielle, but none seemed practicable; and
then, with no other conviction, than the double necessity for being
wary, and procuring a disguise, with a heart that beat lightly though
anxiously, he passed through the wide and busy streets of Bommel,
along the quays of its now choked-up harbour, and found quarters at an
hostelry, that stood near the gardens of the ancient college of Canons,
which was founded in 1303, by Reinold the warlike count of Gueldres.
Here he sent for the keeper of a frippery, as a clothing establishment
was then named, and obtained the dress of a Muscovite merchant, a long
gown of brown cloth trimmed with red braid and sables, a cap of black
wolf's skin, and a short crooked sword, which he slung in front by a
brass chain, in the oriental fashion. He laid aside all his military
trappings, save his chain shirt, which the disguise he had adopted
completely concealed, and after dinner he sallied forth into the city
in quest of adventure and of Murielle.
It was fortunate that he had obtained so complete a disguise and so
readily, for at the corner of a street he was overtaken by three
reckless horsemen, who passed at a hard gallop, and so closely, that he
was nearly ridden down.
They were the very persons he wished to avoid--the duke of Albany,
count Ludwig of Endhoven, and James Achanna. He endeavoured to follow,
and see whither they went; but they rode rapidly, and were soon out of
sight.
The masses of the population, their bustle, and the business they
seemed to transact, with the wealth and luxury he saw on every hand,
excited the astonishment of Gray, who had come from a land that was
simply warlike and pastoral; for in that age Flanders was the central
point of European commerce--the market of all the products of the
south, the north, and the Levant.
"As in the course of human affairs," says Schiller, "here a licentious
luxury followed prosperity. The seductive example of Philip the Good
could not but accelerate its approach. The court of the Burgundian
dukes was the most voluptuous and magnificent in Europe, Italy itself
not accepted. The costly dress of the higher classes, which afterwards
served as patterns to the Spaniards, and eventually with the Burgundian
customs, passed over to the court of Austria, soon descended to the
lower orders, and the humblest citizen nursed his person in velvet
and silk. The pomp and vanity of dress were carried by both sexes to
extravagance. The luxury of the table had never reached so great a
height among any other people. The immoral assemblage of both sexes at
bathing-places, and others of reunion for pleasure and enjoyment, had
banished all shame."
This state of society was new and bewildering to the plain soldier, who
had come from the hardy and frugal land of the "rough-footed Scots," as
he strolled along the thoroughfares of Bommel, disguised as a merchant
from Muscovy, without a word of the Muscovite language, and as ignorant
of whether he should pretend to import tallow, tar, hogsbristles, iron
and flax, or the preserved fruits and luscious wines of the sunny
Levant. Thus fearing that his disguise might lead him into a scrape
or predicament, he avoided the harbour and mercantile portions of the
city, and sought those in which he was most likely to meet some of the
earl's train, or discover his locality.
After two days of hopeless inquiry, as the most prudent people are
at times the most rash, he conceived the idea of relinquishing his
disguise, of resuming his former attire, and applying to the Dyck Graf,
who was a Gueldrian noble, and by birth a Burgundian of high rank, when
luckily chance threw in his way the most fortunate person he could have
met.
He had visited all the churches in time of mass and vespers, hoping to
see the earl, or some of his numerous retinue, and on the third day,
just as he was leaving, with a heavy heart, the gorgeously-carved porch
of St. Genevieve, he heard a familiar voice say--
"Yes, yes, it is all very bad and wicked of the Burgundians no doubt;
but are not all the world so? When, through my humble efforts and the
agency of our Holy Father, the great master of evil is purified and
restored to the place he fell from, such things shall be no more.
_Veritas mea et misericordia mea cum ipso; et in nomine meo exaltabitur
cornuejus!_"
"Oh, by good St. Genevieve, this can be no other than my worthy friend
and kinsman, the abbot of Tongland!" said Gray, joyously, as he pressed
through a crowd of bubous-shaped Flemings, towards where the old abbot,
who wore a travelling cassock and calotte cap, with long flaps, stood
near a pillar conversing with one whom he knew to be the chaunter of
the abbey, an official who conducted the choir and had charge of the
library, to increase the MS. stores of which, he had accompanied the
earl to the Continent.
"Oh that I were now at Rome, instead of loitering here in Flanders,"
resumed the abbot; "how many souls might yet be saved!"
"The devil hath been long at his work, father abbot, since that
tempting day in the Garden of Eden," said Gray, laughing, as he took
the abbot's hand in his.
"Good morrow, sir," said the churchman, coldly, as he scrutinized the
strange costume and scarred face of the speaker.
"You do not know me?" exclaimed Sir Patrick.
"Nay, sir, not I."
"'Tis well," said Gray, with a bitter smile, as he remembered his
wound, "I seem a Muscovite, but the cowl does not make the monk. I
crave a word apart, lord abbot--I have that to say, which you must hear
alone."
When they withdrew a pace or two back, Sir Patrick lifted his fur cap,
and displayed his features more fully.
"Heaven grant us its peace," exclaimed the abbot, with astonishment;
"'tis my kinsman, Gray of Foulis!"
"Hush," said Gray, placing a hand upon his mouth.
"Rash boy, and bold as rash, what seek you here in Flanders?" asked the
abbot, with gloom, alarm, and almost anger expressed in his face.
"I came on the king's service; but now I seek Murielle Douglas--and
Murielle I shall see, father!"
"Beware, lest you find death instead."
"I know the penalty, if discovered," said Gray carelessly; "but in this
disguise, and with a face so altered, I may escape, as I have already
eluded, the penetrating eyes of the villain Achanna."
"But the earl--he whose projects are so high--so deep--so terrible!"
urged the priest in a whispered voice of agony.
"He will not dare to touch me here in a fortified town--"
"What! You expect Earl James to be a saint in Gueldreland, though he is
a devil in Galloway? What saith Horace--that those who cross the seas
change their climate but _not_ their mind."
"I know with what intention _he_ has crossed the seas, and for what
object he will return."
"You do!" said the abbot, in a husky whisper.
"Aye, as well as you, father abbot, who are the keeper of that pretty
burden, his conscience. I have seen, yea, and supped with, Robert, duke
of Albany."
"Hush!" said the abbot, glancing at his chaunter.
"Ah--'tis your turn to say _hush_ now."
"You have seen him--this poor outlawed prince?"
"Yes, and spent an evening with him--an interesting, if not a jovial
one, certainly; and in his cups, he unfolded some very pretty schemes,
concerning which, I shall be silent, until I tread again the streets of
Edinburgh."
"Oh, be wary, kinsman--be wary!" said the abbot, in a voice that
betrayed increasing alarm.
"The duke modestly asked me to aid in a little plot against my _own_
life, and made me several fair offers to lure me to his service against
the king."
"Offers, of what?"
"Lands and titles."
"He is liberal, as that Fell Spirit, who took our Lord unto the
mountain top, and offered Him cities and empires, when he had not an
inch of land to give--not even the mud that adhered to his cloven hoof.
Oh, that I were now at Rome!"
"But Murielle is to be made the tool--the victim of these desperate
plotters--and you know it, father, you know it!"
"Ah," said the abbot, with a groan, "there you sting my inmost heart."
"Then how must _mine_ be stung? but you will enable me to meet--to
console her?"
"I--impossible!"
"There is nothing impossible in it," continued Gray, with earnestness;
"you must--you shall! Ah, I do not threaten you--I implore. Think
of all we have suffered for each other; think of what we may yet be
condemned to suffer, by those, whom Evil Fortune seems to have made the
arbiters of our destiny."
"'Tis very sad, and very true," replied the abbot, slowly, "but I
_dare_ not."
"You are a priest, and may dare anything," exclaimed
Gray, passionately, "and here I swear, that if you do not take me to
Murielle, or bring her to me--in short, if you do not enable us to
meet, by all that we revere in heaven and on earth, and by the bones of
St. Genevieve, I will cast myself in the earl's path, and brave him and
his followers to the last; and you know what is sure to ensue _then_."
"Your instant destruction."
"Promise me--promise," urged Gray, in whose eyes the tears were
starting as he pressed the hands of the old abbot.
The latter was kind and gentle hearted, and loved his young kinsman too
well to withstand his entreaties long; he felt his resolution waver,
and strangely enough became a little irritated.
"By St. Bryde, of Douglas, I would we had never met," he exclaimed;
"although Sir Patrick, the sequel might have been the worse for you."
"Where does she reside?"
"With the earl and countess," replied the abbot, briefly.
"Of course," said Gray, impatiently, "but, where are they?"
"In a house belonging to the Dyck Graf, and adjoining the great church
and the college of canons. I am to-night to bring her--"
"Where, father--where?"
"To this church of St. Genevieve."
"Oh, how happy was the chance that brought me hither! You will allow me
to go with you?"
"Impossible--never; by my habit, my order--"
"Why--why?"
"Your relations with her, and my office--"
"Your office will protect us; it is ordained that you should succour
those in distress, and Murielle and I are both in need of succour.
Father Abbot--dear kind friend, you agree."
"Be then silent and wary, and meet me at the porch here, at the hour of
seven this evening," replied the abbot, suddenly giving way.
"God will reward you--I never can--adieu, adieu!" said Gray, in the
fulness of his heart, and in a voice which became husky with emotion,
as he hastened into the street, with a giddy head and a light heart,
muttering: "I shall see her--to-night I shall see her! but ah, by the
dial, it lacks five hours of the time!"