II
Despite his horror of inaction, Gilles seldom went out during that time save at nightfall, and he had been content to let Monseigneur the governor know that he was still sick of his wounds. Indeed, those wounds inflicted upon him that night by a crowd of young jackanapes had been a blessing in disguise for him. They had proved a valid excuse for putting off the final day of decision which Monseigneur d'Inchy and his adherents had originally fixed a fortnight hence. That fortnight had long since gone by, and Gilles knew well enough that the Flemish lords were waxing impatient.
They were urging him earnestly for a decision. The pressure of the Duke of Parma's blockade upon the city was beginning to make itself felt. All access to the French frontier was now closed and it was only from the agricultural districts of the province itself that food supplies could be got into the town; and those districts themselves were overrun with Spanish soldiery, who pillaged and burned, stole and requisitioned, everything that they could lay hands on. The city of Cambray was in open revolt against her Sovereign Lord, the King of Spain, and the Duke of Parma had demanded an unconditional surrender, under such pains and penalties as would deliver the whole population to the tender mercies of a conqueror whose final word was always bloodshed and destruction.
A stout garrison, enthusiastic and determined, was in defence of the city, and there was no thought at present of capitulation in the valiant hearts of these Flemings, the comrades and equals of those who had perished in their hundreds in other cities and provinces of the Netherlands, whilst upholding their ancient rights and privileges against the greatest military organization of the epoch. There had been no thought of surrender, even though food was getting scarce and dear. Wheat and fresh meat had already become almost prohibitive for all save the rich; clothing and leather was unobtainable. The Duke of Parma was awaiting further troops yet, wherewith he proposed to invest the city from every side and to cut her population off from every possible source of supply.
This was the inexorable fact which M. le Baron d'Inchy placed before Gilles de Crohin when the latter presented himself one day at the Archiepiscopal Palace in his rôle as equerry to Monsieur.
'His Highness must see for himself,' d'Inchy said firmly, 'how impossible it is for us to wait indefinitely on his good pleasure. No one can regret more than I do the unfortunate circumstances which have brought His Highness down to a bed of sickness; and because of those circumstances—in which, alas! I, as Monseigneur's host, had an innocent share—I have been both considerate and long-suffering in not trying to brusque His Highness in his decision. But Parma is almost at our gates, and Orange is leading his own army from victory to victory. We gave in to Monseigneur's caprice when matters did not appear so urgent as they are now; time has come when further indecision becomes a rebuff.'
To these very just reproaches Gilles had no other answer save silence. Ill-versed as he was in the art of diplomacy, he did not know how to fence with words, how to parry this direct attack and to slip out of the impasse in which he was being cornered.
Jehan had been gone a fortnight, and still there was no answer from the Queen of Navarre!
'Monseigneur hath a delicate constitution,' he said somewhat lamely after awhile. 'He suffers grievously from his wounds and hath been delirious. It were unwarrantable cruelty to force a decision on him now.'
'So do our people suffer grievously,' retorted d'Inchy roughly. 'They suffer already from lack of food and the terror of Parma's armies. And,' he added with a touch of grim irony, 'as to His Highness' delicate constitution, meseems that if a man can hold six young gallants for half an hour at the sword's point, he hath little cause to quarrel with the constitution wherewith Nature hath endowed him.'
'Even the strongest man can be prostrated by fever.'
'Possibly. But there is no longer any time for procrastination, and unless I have His Highness' final answer at the end of the week, my messenger starts for Utrecht to meet the Prince of Orange.'