"They say he has gone to Italy. Why? What is to do?"
"No matter. When did he go? Tell me not that he went in such a storm as
this!"
"Here is a coil about Gerard Eliassoen," said Martin contemptuously.
Then he lighted the candle, and, seating himself coolly by the fire,
proceeded to whip some fine silk round his bow-string at the place
where the nick of the arrow frets it. "I'll tell you," said he
carelessly. "Know you his brother Giles--a little misbegotten imp all
head and arms? Well, he came tearing over here on a mule, and bawled out
something. I was too far off to hear the creature's words, but only its
noise. Anyway, he started Gerard. For as soon as he was gone, there was
such crying and kissing, and then Gerard went away. They do tell me he
has gone to Italy--mayhap you know where that is; for I don't."
Dierich's countenance fell lower and lower at this account. There was no
flaw in it. A cunninger man than Martin would, perhaps, have told a lie
too many, and raised suspicion. But Martin did his task well. He only
told the one falsehood he was bade to tell, and of his own head invented
nothing.
"Mates," said Dierich, "I doubt he speaks sooth. I told the burgomaster
how 'twould be. He met the dwarf galloping Peter Buyskens' mule from
Sevenbergen. 'They have sent that imp to Gerard,' says he, 'so, then,
Gerard is at Sevenbergen.' 'Ah, master!' says I, ''tis too late now. We
should have thought of Sevenbergen before, instead of wasting our time
hunting all the odd corners of Tergou for those cursed parchments that
we shall never find till we find the man that took 'em. If he was at
Sevenbergen,' quoth I, 'and they sent the dwarf to him, it must have
been to warn him we are after him. He is leagues away by now,' quoth I.
Confound that chalk-faced girl! she has out-witted us bearded men: and
so I told the burgomaster, but he would not hear to reason. A wet jerkin
apiece, that is all we shall get, mates, by this job."
Martin grinned coolly in Dierich's face.
"However," added the latter, "to content the burgomaster, we will search
the house."
Martin turned grave directly.
This change of countenance did not escape Dierich. He reflected a
moment.
"Watch outside two of you, one on each side of the house, that no one
jump from the upper windows. The rest come with me."
And he took the candle and mounted the stairs, followed by three of his
comrades.
Martin was left alone.
The stout soldier hung his head. All had gone so well at first: and now
this fatal turn! Suddenly it occurred to him that all was not yet lost.
Gerard must be either in Peter's room or Margaret's; they were not so
very high from the ground. Gerard would leap out. Dierich had left a man
below; but what then? For half a minute Gerard and he would be two to
one, and in that brief space, what might not be done?
Martin then held the back door ajar and watched. The light shone in
Peter's room. "Curse the fool!" said he, "is he going to let them take
him like a girl?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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