But now that it seemed certain the enemy had departed, from the fort came trooping the garrison, and then followed the company of women, little Trynje running ahead. “Alaine, Alaine!” she called; “are you hurt, Alaine, Alaine?”
She saw her father approaching carrying in his arms the drooping figure, and she made haste to reach him. “She is not dead, not dead?”
“No, but happily unconscious, poor child!” And in Joachim van der Deen’s strong arms Alaine was borne indoors, Trynje following, solicitous and helpful.
Meantime, from out of the woods had issued the little company, whose coming had served the garrison well and Lendert so badly, Madam De Vries riding ahead. She was followed by a dozen of her retainers, who in the shelter of the wood from behind trees had done good execution. “Though,” said Joachim van der Deen, bluntly, “they would all be roasting now but for the timely warning of that good Jeanne, whose bravery would have it seem that we have been entertaining an angel unawares. Where is she, by the way?” he asked of Trynje, who was bending over Alaine’s unconscious form. But this no one could tell. Jeanne had vanished as completely as the enemy. At this report Joachim looked grave; this might be the performance of a spy, but since there was no help for it, there was nothing to be done. “Where is Madam De Vries?” he asked his daughter.
“Gone to find my mother. Heaven knows how she must feel with her only son a captive.”
Her father shook his head. “She has herself to thank for it. He and the girl ran to her rescue, though that big Jeanne could have managed it alone. I must leave this lass to your tender mercies, for there are others in need of me. She is a brave creature. I shall not soon forget how I felt to see her standing there facing that horde.”
After Alaine had been carried in and left to the ministrations of the women, Joachim returned to find his wife among the wounded on the ground. She was bending over a figure lying motionless upon the tender young grass. “He lives, Joachim,” she said, looking up, “but I think it is a desperate case. God have mercy on him.”
“Who is it?” her husband asked, gazing at the waxen face.
“I do not know. I judge he must have been the leader of that company of Frenchmen by his dress.”
“And our prisoner,” returned Joachim, grimly. “We will take him in with the rest and see what can be done for him. Here, boys, gently; he is pretty badly hurt, we shall hardly be able to save him, but we will do our duty as Christians.” He watched them bear the man away. “Madam De Vries expressed a wish to see you, Johanna, but you can offer her little consolation, I fear.”