Chapter XI: The Jesters and the Rhetoric Players

That winter the Count Adolphus, who had been seeing service with the King of Denmark, joined the Nassau household at Brussels, where Count Louis was already living; he too hoped for some post under his brilliant brother, and meanwhile eagerly joined the party of the grandees and closely associated himself with the band of young and reckless cavaliers, such as Count Louis, Count Hoogstraaten, young Mansfeld, and Henry Brederode.

It was a gorgeous life, an extravagant life, a life in every way reckless and opulent that these seigneurs led on the edge of revolution, on the edge of the King's wrath, on the edge perhaps of worse things than any of them dreamed.

There were hunts, falcon parties, entertainments at their magnificent country seats, balls, feasts, dinners, masks in the great palaces in Brussels; even the Cardinalists Aremberg, Aerschot, and Barlaymont mingled in this joyous and spendthrift society. But it was the party headed by Orange, Egmont, and Hoorne which went the furthest in splendour, display, and open defiance of the Cardinal and the edicts of the Inquisition—edicts which two Stadtholders at least, Berghen and Montigny, resolutely refused to enforce in their provinces.

Granvelle smiled and wrote his long dispatches to the King, carefully giving instances of the pride and insolence of the grandees, and declaring that not only were they set against himself, but against the authority of His Majesty. Margaret raged and wept and grew daily more confused; all had forsaken her council board save the Cardinal and his creatures, and her pride began to revolt against Granvelle's obvious treatment of her as a puppet. Her secretary Armenteros, one of the sly Spaniards bred in the school of Madrid, urged her to assert herself, and she could not but see that Granvelle's policy, however acceptable to the King, was most likely to raise a religious war in the Netherlands, which she, a foreigner in fact, though nominally a Fleming, dared not attempt to coerce without the aid of the Stadtholders with their immense local influence.

Early in the new year it became secretly known to the grandees that Margaret had lately sent a letter to the King representing the desperate financial state of the country, the firm hold heresy had, the immense feeling against the Inquisition, the impossibility of counting on the nobility while Granvelle remained in power, and the advisability of recalling the Cardinal for a while.

This news was received as a triumph, and Egmont, with his usual recklessness, gave a great feast, where the toast "to the departure of the man in red" was enthusiastically drunk.

It was past midnight when a party of young nobles—Adolphus of Nassau, Hoogstraaten, Montigny, and Brederode—left Egmont's mansion and turned homewards through the moonlit streets of Brussels.

They would not so soon have left the festival if they had not been inspired by a project of daring mischief: Brederode had a sheaf of violent pasquils under his brocade cloak, Hoogstraaten in the same manner concealed a pot of paste, and Adolphus and Montigny were to keep watch while the other two placarded their insults over any bare wall that offered.

It was a fair night, and the moonlight fell unclouded into the streets, casting sharp shadows from gables and balconies and rendering the work of the young cavaliers as dangerous as they could wish; even Egmont had warned them against proceeding too far, and William had perpetually forbidden his brothers to indulge in dangerous jests, for William knew Philip.

But they were young, enthusiastic, warmed with wine, absolutely fearless—and where Henry Brederode was there could never be caution.

This nobleman was not wealthy, but of as ancient a descent as any in the Netherlands, being the last representative of the former Counts of Holland, of whose vast possessions, however, he retained only one lordship.

As he stood now leaning against a church door on which he was engaged in pasting his pasquil, it was easy to see the fascination which kept him the friends of men who believed him worthless, for there was a winning charm in the handsome laughing face, the thick curls shading the bold impudent eyes, the humorous mouth, showing the man of ready wit, of endless daring, of quick temper, and ready good nature. He was dressed, altogether beyond his means, in purple and gold brocade; his ruff of Flanders lace was stained with wine, and in the gold silk twist of his left garter he carried a dagger.

Near him stood Anthony Lalaing, Count Hoogstraaten, a chosen friend of the Prince of Orange despite his youth; he was short and very slender, and looked almost like a page as he offered the paste pot, his dark mantle wrapped from his eyes to his knees, his hat pulled over his brow, the only part of his festival attire visible being his rose-coloured silk hose.

Adolphus of Nassau also muffled himself in his cloak, and Floris de Montmorency, the Seigneur de Montigny, a dark splendid cavalier, kept watch at the turn of the street.

The yellow lights of the two oil lamps, flickering before a gaudy shrine to the Virgin set in the angle of the houses opposite the church, showed that the streets were empty, and that no one spied from the windows, alike all dark and shuttered. But as Brederode, with a laugh of enjoyment, was pasting a crude but effective likeness of the Cardinal rapidly journeying to hell in the company of the Devil next to the lampoon which he had already firmly affixed to the church door, Hoogstraaten and Montigny both gave a sound of warning—but too late; a carriage, singularly light and noiseless, swept round the corner, and the nobles, whose own reckless laughter had concealed the sound of the wheels, found the vehicle on them before they could fly.

One of them, at least, did not wish to do so; Brederode turned round, the paste-brush in his hand, ready for any defiance.

The other three crowded close to the door, hiding with their persons the distinct white squares of the still wet lampoons.

"What carriage in these streets at this hour?" whispered Montigny, who, as the most prudent, was also the most nervous and anxious.

His curiosity was not long in being satisfied, the blinds of the carriage were up, and from the window nearest the church looked out the serene smooth face of Cardinal Granvelle.

Even Brederode concealed the paste-brush, and the others lowered their faces into the folds of their mantles.

But the carriage stopped, and Granvelle looked straight at Brederode.

"Good evening," he said. "You enjoy the night air of Brussels?"

"As well on foot as Your Eminence in a carriage," replied the Baron, throwing back his head, his eyes beginning to dance with defiance.

"Oh, I," replied Granvelle, his glance travelling over the other cavaliers—"I am returning to La Fontaine after supper with the Regent."

"I also am returning home," replied Brederode. "My host was the Count Egmont."

"Did the Count win any more dice throws?" asked the Cardinal.

"Nay, we were not occupied in gaming," said Brederode; "but had we played," he added, with his reckless loyalty to Egmont, "I doubt not the Count would have won."

"Ah, he has luck," smiled the Cardinal, "but he may find the throw of the dice that made him the designer of the liveries a perilous victory."

The three cavaliers drew closer together; for all their high spirits and youthful bravado they knew what power the Cardinal had with Philip, and what the King's wrath meant. There might be eventual death for all of them if Granvelle saw what was pasted on the church door behind them.

But Brederode answered dauntlessly—

"Is there not some peril in Your Eminence driving abroad so late and unattended? Best be on your way; you are not so popular in Brussels."

Granvelle smiled.

"I am well aware that I have enemies capable of assassinating me, but I am able to despise them, even"—his glance again swept the silent three—"if these here are among those willing to lie in wait to do me a mischief."

"Whoever advised you so, lied!" cried Brederode.

The Cardinal leant farther from the window. "Who are those behind you?" he asked. "Methinks I know the figure of the Seigneur Hoogstraaten, or is it some page? And a member of the House of Nassau—would it be now—Adolphus or Louis?"

"Adolphus," answered that knight, who would not involve his brother in his adventure; "and by your leave we have as good right to be abroad as yourself."

"An amorous adventure?" smiled Granvelle. "Yet a church door is a strange rendezvous."

"Your Eminence knows best of that," said Brederode, with utter recklessness. "There are others beside you who know how to reconcile love and the Church."

Granvelle was well-known to be far from saintly, and the thrust caused him to wince. Adolphus caught Brederode's sleeve and besought him to hush.

"How many insolences go unchecked in the Netherlands!" said Granvelle softly. "But the King is not so easily mocked. Your names are all noted in Madrid."

"Go there and remind His Majesty of them," answered Brederode, "and place my name high on the list, and say I sent you there to write it."

Hoogstraaten pulled him back, and Montigny, disdaining to be disguised now his companions were discovered, moved forward, while Adolphus deftly set his back against the placard.

"Your Eminence will take no notice of the Count," he said, "since he is obviously far gone in wine."

"I take no notice of any of you," replied the Cardinal, "and I think you are more drunk with treason than with wine——"

"Treason?" shouted Brederode; "who dares give that word to me?"

And he was hurling himself on the Cardinal, but Hoogstraaten and Adolphus held him back and forced him against the wall; he laughed and broke loose from them, disappearing in the shadows behind the Cardinal's carriage.

"Ah, Floris Montmorency," cried the Cardinal, "is this the place for the Stadtholder of Hainault?"

"I but amuse myself with my companions," replied Montigny, with a smile, though he was deeply conscious of his false position.

"The nobles of the Netherlands choose dangerous amusements," said the Cardinal, "and the Princes of Nassau dangerous company," he added, glancing at Adolphus.

The three nobles, bitterly irritated at the Cardinal's questions and his delay, could hardly restrain their impatience, especially as they suspected that he knew well enough what they were about, and what they concealed behind them on the church door.

"You think I too dare something in reprimanding you?" said Granvelle, "yet I cannot believe that the chivalrous Houses of Nassau, Lalaing, and Montmorency would combine against a defenceless priest."

"Your Eminence need have no fear of that," replied Montigny, "though we are not among those who have found priests defenceless—nay, very much the opposite."

"The March air," replied Granvelle, "is too keen to give a relish to this banter of wits with boys and roysterers."

"We wish no conversation with Your Eminence," cried Adolphus angrily; "you might have driven on, for us, without a word."

"I am sorry," said the Cardinal, with a keen look at Montigny; "yea, I say again that I am sorry to see the Stadtholder of Hainault in such company."

With this remark, which Adolphus and Hoogstraaten received as an insult and Montigny as a threat, Granvelle signalled to the coachmen and leant back in his seat.

As the carriage drove on up the slope, Montigny looked anxiously for Brederode.

"Where is he? Fled?" Adolphus asked.

But a shout of laughter answered them; the Count was standing at the corner under the shrine and pointing after the Cardinal's carriage.

When the other three cavaliers looked in this direction they could not forbear laughter either. On the back of the carriage in which Granvelle was taking his stately departure was pasted the lampoon and the picture of His Eminence hastening along with the Devil.

While the others had been using their wits, Brederode had used his paste-brush, and to greater effect.

"Par le Cordieu!" cried the Count, "his face will turn yellow when he sees that!"

"But he will guess who did it, my Brederode," said Hoogstraaten, "and what kind of exploit will that show in us?"

"Give me the bills," added Montigny, "here is enough for one night."

Hoogstraaten cast his paste pot over the wall of the garden nearest, and Adolphus was glad to end the perilous jest; the night air, the conversation with the Cardinal, had cleared their minds of the fumes of wine and excitement. It had been a dangerous moment while they stood with their backs against the placards on the church door.

"The news of this may reach Madrid," continued Montigny, endeavouring to disarm Brederode of his brush.

"Madrid is a great way off," returned the turbulent Count.

"But Philip has a long arm," said Montigny; he took the rest of the pasquils from Brederode and thrust them into his own doublet, and cast the brush over the wall after the paste pot.

Brederode was inclined to be angry, till two of them passed an arm in his, and the four of them went up the street, the Count shouting a song loudly enough to bring the solitary watch to the street corner as they went by.

They had almost regained Egmont's palace, where Hoogstraaten and Montigny were lodging, when their progress was suddenly interrupted.

A man stepped from a doorway and stood right across the path of the four nobles. Their first thought was of violence, and all of them clapped their hands on their swords, but the fellow threw out his hands to show he was defenceless, and then they noticed that he wore the famous livery—the camlet robe with the hanging sleeves embroidered with the bunch of arrows.

"There is only one of you with his face uncovered," he said, in a low eager voice, "but he is the Seigneur Brederode——"

"At your service," said the Count; "whose fellow are you?"

"Alas, I am no one's fellow," was the reply; "this livery is but a disguise bought with my last ducats. Titelmann is after me."

"Are you a heretic?" asked Montigny.

"I am nothing at all, but I played the part of the Cardinal in the rhetoric play, and the bonnet maker where I lodged betrayed me to the Inquisition. But the boy of the house warned me, and I crept out and got this habit, and have been in the streets ever since, and if some great noble will not take me into his house, Titelmann will get me at the last."

"I like your humour," said Brederode instantly, "and all enemies of the Cardinal are friends of mine——"

Montigny checked him and turned to the stranger.

"Fellow," he demanded, "is this tale true, or but some ruse? Answer me truthfully. I am the Stadtholder of Hainault."

"Before God it is true," answered the other earnestly. "And I speak in dread of my life, and with no object but to gain protection. Ever since it has been dark I have been creeping from corner to corner, hoping to find some seigneur——"

"Friend," interrupted Brederode, "I could take you if my house was bigger and my debts less. But Egmont," he added, with his usual admiration of that nobleman, "Egmont will give you shelter—his house is as full of heretics as Geneva itself."

"Then I will hasten to throw myself on the protection of the noble Count," answered the other gratefully. But Montigny, fearing the recklessness both of Brederode and Egmont, was for seizing this stranger who might be anything that he did not say he was—even one of Granvelle's spies—when Adolphus said, "Surely I know his voice, his look——" he dropped the mantle from his face as he spoke, and gazed keenly at the other, who gave a quick exclamation.

"It is the Count Adolphus of Nassau! Then out of his princely goodness he can vouch for me." So saying, he thrust back the hood of his habit, revealing the smooth keen face, the agate brown eyes, of Duprès, the Elector Augustus's skryer.

"Yes, it is he," said Adolphus, "who predicted a bloody death for all of us. And now you are in fear of death yourself," he added, with a smile; "it is strange that one who can read the future cannot foretell his own perils."

"Alas, noble seigneur," replied Duprès, with his usual mingled impudence and reverence, "the angels became capricious and would not give me any more good advice, and I, growing restless, must needs leave a good master and go on my travels which have brought me here—and will lead me no further than the stake unless one of your princely Graces have pity on me. I have seen," he added, with a slight convulsive shudder, "men burning who have beheld angels in the flames and died happy, calling on Christ. But I have always been profane, and am more like to see devils and die blaspheming my God."

"We would deliver no one to death for such an offence as yours," replied Montigny. "And since the Count Adolphus knows you, he will take you to the household of His Highness, where you will be sheltered."

The skryer bent and impulsively kissed the young knight's hand.

"Can he converse with angels?" demanded the Count, who had kept silence so long with difficulty. "If so he may bring them for me——"

"Alas, my magic table is lost," replied Duprès, "and the impression of the mystic seals—they went down on board ship, off Havre."

"But you can tell my fortune?" persisted Brederode.

"You will find that in the bottom of a wine cup, may God forgive you!" cried Hoogstraaten, dragging him on.

"Yes, best go home before more befall us," said Montigny, and the four parted—Brederode and his two friends back to the mansion of Egmont; and Adolphus, with the skryer humbly behind him, to the Nassau palace.