CHAPTER XXXII.
THE FUGITIVES.
Peter Claesen, Gretchen’s son, made it a practice to steal unobserved from his home after nightfall to visit friends of the faith and to render them what assistance he could. On the night in which Katharine La Tour made her escape from the convent, Peter was abroad, as usual. Coming into the Westernstrasse he noticed a young woman a little in advance of him, who walked timidly and with an air of uncertainty as to her direction. Believing this to be some person in distress, Peter followed at a respectful distance. Hearing sounds of pursuit, the young woman quickened her pace. Peter followed, and kept the flying feet and fluttering dress well in sight. Hardly had the fugitive reached Canal Street when, overcome by fright and exhaustion, she sank on the pavement in a faint. Peter was by her side in a moment. Fortunately for both parties the street was deserted. Lifting the unconscious woman in his strong arms, Peter took a shorter route to his mother’s house, where he arrived in safety. Gretchen, who never turned a needy human being from her doors, hastened to unfasten the heavy cape from the slender shoulders. The coarse hood fell from the face and revealed the nun’s attire.
“A Sister!” said Gretchen, in amazement. “Why is she abroad at such an hour?” *********
Colonel Van Straalen gave one look at the beautiful face.
“It is Katharine La Tour!” he said to Conrad. “What are we to understand by this? She must have fled from the convent.”
“She is not yet a nun!” said Conrad, pointing to the white veil. “I imagine she has run away to escape taking her vows.”
“God grant it may be so,” replied his friend.
The young novice was laid upon a bed, and, under Gretchen’s skillful ministrations, she was able in a short time to sit up and relate her story to that good woman.
Hearing the sound of voices in the adjoining room, Katharine inquired if there were visitors in the house, and if her presence was known?
Gretchen gave an amused laugh. “My child,” she said, “set your fears at rest. The gentlemen whose voices you hear do me the honor of lodging in my humble tenement. I am told that they are friends of yours and their names are Colonel Van Straalen and Heer Conrad Chenoweth.”
The young officer now knocked at the door, and begged permission to see Mademoiselle La Tour a few moments, if she were able to grant him a brief interview.
“Allow my friend to come in, please,” said Katharine, a soft flush creeping into her pale cheeks.
“Mademoiselle La Tour—Katharine,” said the young officer, advancing and holding out his hand. If ever honest, faithful love was reflected in a man’s eyes, it shone in his at this moment. Katharine was conscious of no feeling either of surprise or embarrassment at the sight of her friend. An unutterable sense of peace and security came over her.
“Katharine,” continued Reynold Van Straalen, “I have loved you always, love you now as a man loves but one woman in his life. Will you give me the right the protect you from your enemies?”
And Katharine La Tour listened well pleased to this oft-told tale, old as humanity, everlasting as the hills, changeless as the ocean. The look with which she laid her hand in his firm clasp was beautiful in its humility and trustful love.
“My noble friend, can you forgive me for having rejected in days past your protection and your love, and for trying to stifle my heart’s affections in yonder convent?”
“Say no more, my love. There is naught to forgive. Henceforth you are mine, and I will protect you or die in the attempt.”
“But I ought not to remain longer here,” said Katharine. “By midnight my flight will be discovered, and Monseigneur Ryder will leave no stone unturned to force me to return. I am strong now. Let us fly!”
“We will return to our friends and talk the matter over with them,” said Reynold.
Every one present rejoiced at the young girl’s escape, and none more so than Conrad Chenoweth as he saw his friend’s happiness, which was but a reflection of his own. Immediate flight seemed to be the unanimous verdict of the little company. Gretchen’s son, who had been a silent spectator hitherto, now spoke:
“If I mistake not, I discovered to-day, about two miles out to sea, one of the ships of the ‘Wild Beggars.' It is commanded, I surmise, by William de la Marck. He will harbor any fugitives gladly, as he knows no fear. If the Colonel will trust himself and the young lady to my guidance, I am sure I can help him out of his difficulty. But there is no time to be lost. The Admiral is quite likely to sail just before dawn, and to be many leagues from here by sunrise.”
Reynold Van Straalen gladly availed himself of this generous offer. It was decided that he should accompany his betrothed to Leyden, where he could leave her under the protection of friends, and from there he could make his plans to join the Prince of Orange. He took leave of his humble friends with profound emotion. He bade Conrad a brief farewell, as he fully expected his early arrival in Leyden.
After a hurried repast, the fugitives followed their guide through the deserted streets of the city, and successfully avoided the night-watchmen who were on duty. At last they reached one of the canals, and rousing a sleepy ferryman, with whom Peter was acquainted, they entered one of those brown slipper-like boats, which glide picturesquely about the Ouderhaven. A slight haziness, which was not exactly a mist, hung around the old houses and half veiled the bridges. The water lapped lazily about the tall gray posts. They drifted, rather than rowed, past timber rafts, huge canal boats, under bridges, past gloomy archways and the reflected shadows of tall houses, until they reached the harbor. Here they were obliged to land, as the ferryman refused to carry them farther.
Peter took the matter in hand. Finding the owner of a rowboat, he tried to hire him to row the party to the suspicious looking craft, which for several days had been lurking in the neighborhood. The boatman was timid, and did not dare to evade the law. Peter finally persuaded the man to loan him the use of the boat for a couple of hours, and he boldly offered to row the party himself. The officer was loath to accept so generous an offer, but seeing no other avenue of escape, he suffered Peter to have his own way in the matter.
The sea was rough and the wind strong, but Peter had stout arms and rowed with no apparent effort. In due time they came astern the schooner Goodspeed, and shipped oars.
A call sounded from above.
“Who goes there?”
"Friends of the Beggars!” was the reply.
“All right!”
A rope ladder was swung over the side of the schooner. After pressing some gold into Peter’s reluctant hand, Colonel Van Straalen assisted Katharine up the ladder, and then mounted himself.
A ferocious looking man, with shaggy, unkempt hair and beard, greeted them roughly.
“Whom have we here?”
Reynold briefly related his own story and that of Katharine.
De la Marck, for it was he, spoke in kinder tones. “You are welcome. I will drop you in Leyden on the morrow.”
Savage and brutal in manner as persecution had made this man, he was loyal and kind-hearted, and never stopped to weigh personal interests where his Protestant fellow countrymen were concerned. He had made a vow not to use a razor until the death of his kinsman, Egmont, was avenged. His deeds of outlawry had been condemned by the Prince of Orange; still, in defiance of strict orders, he continued to cruise upon the high seas, and to wreak his vengeance upon his hated foes.
The sailors comprised men in the different ranks of life, but all were dressed alike in the gray suits of mendicant friars, with beggars’ wallets, a wooden bowl and spoon hung over the back, and a staff in each hand. In addition, however, to these peaceful accoutrements, each sailor was provided with a sword on his thigh and pistols at his belt. Each man wore a singular necklace: a chain to which a gold Gueulx penny was attached. On one side of the penny was the likeness of Philip II, and over it was this inscription: “Fideles au roi!” [Faithful to the King.] On the reverse side of the coin was a fac-simile of a beggar’s wallet clasped in the hands, and above this were the words: “Jusques à porter la besace” [even to the carrying of a wallet].
Comfortable quarters were provided Katharine in the Admiral’s cabin, and after a long rest, in which she slept the tranquil sleep of perfect confidence and security, she was awakened by the sound of her lover's voice.
“Arise, and come on deck, Katharine, as speedily as possible. The spires of Leyden are in sight.”