Patroon van Volkenberg

by Henry Thew Stephenson

“No,” I answered. “I cannot.”

“’Tis this: I am going to offer my household to the Earl in defense of the city.”

He jerked this out in quick sudden breaths as if it hurt him to say it, and there was a tightening about his lips that seemed to indicate the struggle it had taken and was still taking to keep him up to this honorable resolution. But there was a doubt in my mind, however glad I was to see this change in a man whom I had given up as almost altogether bad.

“Do you think he will accept your help?” I asked, putting my doubt into words.

A shadow crossed his face.

“I have thought of that. I know that my motives are likely to be misunderstood in the light of my past actions. But I must put up with that. A man can do no better than his best.”

He made the sign of the cross and then sat square in the saddle again. We were now hard upon the Landport where workmen were still busy hanging the clumsy gates that had for so long a time been out of use. We rode through the open way and into the crooked streets of the city. In a moment they were swarming with people, come out to see the Red Band go by. Never before had it made such a fine appearance. Never before had the people tossed up their caps like one man and cried: “God save the good patroon, the defender of the city.” For rumor had gone hotfoot ahead of us and, somehow, the people were aware of the errand which had brought us to the city. They knew that the Red Band had come to fight for the town. Old hate was forgotten. The frequent brawls with the patroon’s sailors were not called to mind. And all went as merry as the bells of Trinity on a wedding day.

The patroon was proud of his display, and took a roundabout way to reach the fort. When we drew near, all the neighborhood was in confusion. A great crowd blocked the street from one side to another. Everyone’s attention was fixed on the stone gateway and the massive gates that barred it. When I saw that the gates were closed, I wondered whether there had been an alarm. My thought was soon answered. A bugle from within the walls rang out clear on the frosty air. The notes, beautiful as they were, fell on my ears with a chill foreboding sound. The murmur of the people softened. The great iron-bound gates swung back. There was the throbbing sound of a drum and the dull tramp of soldiers marching. Three of the four garrison companies passed out in a long narrow line, down to the river, and embarked to Albany. This is what Pierre had foretold. The soldiers were gone. The city was now almost defenseless. But its only other danger, the patroon, had espoused its cause. No wonder the people shouted: “God save the good patroon, the defender of the city.”

When the Earl’s troops were gone, followed by many of the spectators, I glanced through the gate into the courtyard of the fort. The Earl of Bellamont, surrounded by most of the members of his council, were still seated upon their horses in front of the executive mansion. Patroon Van Volkenberg gave orders for his troops to remain drawn up in the street; then he rode into the paved courtyard of the fort, accompanied by Louis and myself. After he had saluted the governor and his associates, the patroon cleared his throat a little and began to speak.

“Your Excellency,” he said, “I come to beg no favors, to make no excuses. I have been guilty of many acts which I performed with my eyes wide open, knowing what the consequences would be, and I have likewise suffered the consequences as I should. But that is not what I came to talk about. By the grace of God, I have suffered a change of heart. If it is not too late I should like to make amends for my past acts. Vincent, present this paper to the Earl.”