The Lily of Leyden

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Eight.

Truly it has been said that Leyden was sublime in its despair. Day after day went by and yet no relief came, but the wind, which had long blown steadily from the cast, suddenly changed to the westward. At length Albert and Berthold, who had regularly visited Jaqueline’s tower, discovered the fourth pigeon. They eagerly examined its wing, beneath it was a letter which came from the admiral. The fleet had reached North Aa, and in a few days at furthest he expected to reach the gates of the city. The burgomaster read the letter as before in the market-place, and the bells rang out a joyous peal. Once more, however, the wind shifted, and the hopes of the garrison of Leyden sank to the lowest ebb.

We must now return to the evening when Jaqueline, having sent her attendant Margaret to obtain provisions for the suffering family, accompanied the woman who had supplicated her. Suddenly, as she was passing close to a canal, she found herself lifted from her feet, while a thick cloak was thrown over her. In vain she attempted to shriek for help, in another instant she heard the splash of oars.

“Do not fear, you are in the safe keeping of one who desires to save you from horrible suffering and death,” whispered a voice in her ear. Notwithstanding these assurances, Jaqueline entreated that she might be placed on shore, and endeavoured by her cries to attract the attention of any who might be passing. Vain were her efforts, the thick folds of the cloak prevented her voice being heard, while a heavy mist, together with the shades of night, shrouded the canal as the boat glided forward. Jaqueline knew that the canal extended out beneath the city walls, and she hoped that the boat would be challenged as it passed under them and be compelled to put to shore. Keeping silent, she resolved to take the opportunity of making another effort to escape from her captors; as the spot was approached, however, she felt a hand pressed on her mouth. In vain she struggled to free herself, she heard the sign and counter-sign given, and the boat impelled by four sturdy rowers soon left the city walls behind. Strange as it might seem, thinking more of the safety of her townsmen than of herself, the idea occurred to her that if persons could thus, undiscovered, leave the city, an armed force might be introduced by the gates, and disastrous might be the consequences. She was, she had reason to fear, being carried to the Spanish camp, but who could have been guilty of so treacherous an act? She was not left long in doubt, the person who had before addressed her in a subdued tone now raised his voice, and she recognised it as that of Van Arenberg. For some time she could not sufficiently command herself to speak, at length, however, she said in a calm tone, “I will not pretend to be ignorant that it is you who have committed this unwarrantable act of violence, and I insist that you carry me back to the city and restore me to my father, his mental anxiety already so overwhelming, when he finds that I am lost, may bring him to the grave.”

“I have but acted, my beloved Jaqueline, as you would secretly wish, to save you from that destruction which must, ere many days have passed, descend on the city. My object is to carry you to a place of safety, all I ask being your hand and love.”

“The former I will not give, the other I cannot bestow,” answered Jaqueline, firmly. “Had I before been willing in obedience to my father’s wishes to try and love you, the outrage you have committed would have changed my sentiments, and I again insist that you return with me to the city.”

“To do so is utterly impossible,” answered Van Arenberg. “The sentries, as we passed beneath the fortress of Zoeterwoude, nearly detected the boat, and we should certainly be captured were we to make the attempt. We will now, therefore, proceed towards Delft, where you will be among friends, and safe from the foes you dread.”

Jaqueline greatly doubted that the baron spoke the truth. Again and again she insisted, notwithstanding all the risks they might run, that they should return to the city. She saw at length that all expostulation was useless, the darkness of night prevented her from observing the direction they were taking. Suddenly the sound of heavy guns broke on her ear, followed by the rattle of musketry. Looking southward she saw bright flashes glancing over the water in rapid succession; she thought, too, that she could even hear the shouts of the combatants, the clashing of swords and battle-axes. It was evident that a fierce fight was raging in that direction. The rowers, who had hitherto been exerting themselves to the utmost, paused, and exchanged a few hurried words. It appeared to her that they had lost their way, for many new channels, deepened by the inflowing waters, branched off on every hand.

Van Arenberg ordered them to row on.