"She died about three years ago, and was buried here."
"Oh, that is another matter," said Jorian; "that was before my time; the vicar could tell you, likely; if so be she was a gentlewoman, or at least rich enough to pay him his fee."
"Alas, my son, she was poor (and paid a heavy penalty for it); but born of decent folk. Her father, Peter, was a learned physician; she came hither from Sevenbergen--to die."
When Clement had uttered these words his head sunk upon his breast, and he seemed to have no power nor wish to question Jorian more. I doubt even if he knew where he was. He was lost in the past.
Jorian put down his spade, and standing upright in the grave, set his arms akimbo, and said sulkily, "Are you making a fool of me, holy sir, or has some wag been making a fool of you?"
And having relieved his mind thus, he proceeded to dig again, with a certain vigour that showed his somewhat irritable temper was ruffled.
Clement gazed at him with a puzzled but gently reproachful eye; for the tone was rude, and the words unintelligible.
Good natured, though crusty, Jorian had not thrown up three spadesful ere he became ashamed of it himself. "Why what a base churl am I to speak thus to thee, holy father; and thou standing there, looking at me like a lamb. Aha! I have it; "tis Peter Brandt"s grave, you would fain see, not Margaret"s. He does lie here; hard by the west door. There; I"ll show you." And he laid down his spade, and put on his doublet and jerkin to go with the friar.
He did not know there was anybody sitting on Peter"s tomb. Still less that she was watching for this holy friar.
FOOTNOTE:
[C] Pietro Vanucci, and Andrea, did not recognize him without his beard.
The fact is, that the beard, which has never known a razor, grows in a very picturesque and characteristic form, and becomes a feature in the face; so that its removal may in some cases be an effectual disguise.
CHAPTER Lx.x.xIX
WHILE Jorian was putting on his doublet and jerkin to go to Peter"s tomb, his tongue was not idle. "They used to call him a magician out Sevenbergen way. And they do say he gave "em a touch of his trade at parting; told "em he saw Margaret"s lad a coming down Rhine in brave clothes and store o" money, but his face scarred by foreign glaive, and not altogether so many arms and legs as a went away wi". But, dear heart, nought came on"t. Margaret is still wearying for her lad; and Peter, he lies as quiet as his neighbours, not but what she hath put a stone slab over him, to keep him where he is: as you shall see."
He put both hands on the edge of the grave, and was about to raise himself out of it, but the friar laid a trembling hand on his shoulder, and said in a strange whisper--
"How long since died Peter Brandt?"
"About two months. Why?"
"And his daughter buried him, say you?"
"Nay, I buried him, but she paid the fee and reared the stone. Why?"
"Then--but he had but one daughter; Margaret?"
"No more; leastways, that he owned to."
"Then you think Margaret is--is alive?"
"Think? Why I should be dead else. Riddle me that."
"Alas, how can I? You love her!"
"No more than reason, being a married man and father of four more st.u.r.dy knaves like myself. Nay, the answer is, she saved my life scarce six weeks agone. Now had she been dead she couldn"t ha" kept me alive. Bless your heart I couldn"t keep a thing on my stomach; nor doctors couldn"t make me. My Joan says, "Tis time to buy thee a shroud." "I dare say, so "tis," says I; "but try and borrow one first." In comes my lady, this Margaret, which she died three years ago, by your way on"t, opens the windows, makes "em shift me where I lay, and cures me in the twinkling of a bed post; but wi" what? there pinches the shoe; with the scurviest herb, and out of my own garden, too; with sweet feverfew. A herb, quotha, "tis a weed; leastways it was a weed till it cured me; but now whene"er I pa.s.s my bunch I doff bonnet, and, says I, "My service t"ye."
Why, how now, father, you look wondrous pale, and now you are red; and now you are white? Why, what is the matter? What in Heaven"s name is the matter?"
"The surprise--the joy--the wonder--the fear," gasped Clement.
"Why what is it to thee? Art thou of kin to Margaret Brandt?"
"Nay; but I knew one that loved her well, so well her death nigh killed him, body and soul. And yet thou sayest she lives. And I believe thee."
Jorian stared, and after a considerable silence, said very gravely, "Father, you have asked me many questions, and I have answered them truly; now for our Lady"s sake answer me but two. Did you in very sooth know one who loved this poor la.s.s? Where?"
Clement was on the point of revealing himself, but he remembered Jerome"s letter, and shrank from being called by the name he had borne in the world.
"I knew him in Italy," said he.
"If you knew him you can tell me his name," said Jorian, cautiously.
"His name was Gerard Elia.s.soen."
"Oh, but this is strange. Stay, what made thee say Margaret Brandt was dead?"
"I was with Gerard when a letter came from Margaret Van Eyck. The letter told him she he loved was dead and buried. Let me sit down, for my strength fails me. Foul play! Foul play!"
"Father," said Jorian, "I thank Heaven for sending thee to me. Ay, sit ye down; ye do look like a ghost; ye fast overmuch to be strong. My mind misgives me; methinks I hold the clue to this riddle, and, if I do, there be two knaves in this town whose heads I would fain batter to pieces as I do this mould"; and he clenched his teeth and raised his long spade above his head, and brought it furiously down upon the heap several times. "Foul play? You never said a truer word i" your life; and, if you know where Gerard is now, lose no time, but show him the trap they have laid for him. Mine is but a dull head, but whiles the slow hound puzzles out the scent--go to. And I do think you and I ha"
got hold of two ends o" one stick, and a main foul one."
Jorian then, after some of those useless preliminaries men of his cla.s.s always deal in, came to the point of his story. He had been employed by the burgomaster of Tergou to repair the floor of an upper room in his house, and, when it was almost done, coming suddenly to fetch away his tools, curiosity had been excited by some loud words below, and he had lain down on his stomach, and heard the burgomaster talking about a letter, which Cornelis and Sybrandt were minded to convey into the place of one that a certain Hans Memling was taking to Gerard: "and it seems their will was good, but their stomach was small; so to give them courage the old man showed them a drawer full of silver, and if they did the trick they should each put a hand in, and have all the silver they could hold in"t. Well, father," continued Jorian, "I thought not much on"t at the time, except for the bargain itself, _that_ kept me awake mostly all night. Think on"t! Next morning at peep of day who should I see but my masters Cornelis and Sybrandt come out of their house each with a black eye. "Oho," says I, "what yon Hans hath put his mark on ye; well now I hope that is all you have got for your pains." Didn"t they make for the burgomaster"s house? I to my hiding-place."
At this part of Jorian"s revelation the monk"s nostril dilated, and his restless eye showed the suspense he was in.
"Well, father," continued Jorian, "the burgomaster brought them into that same room. He had a letter in his hand; but I am no scholar; however, I have got as many eyes in my head as the Pope hath, and I saw the drawer opened, and those two knaves put in each a hand and draw it out full. And, saints in glory, how they tried to hold more, and more, and more o" yon stuff! And Sybrandt, he had daubed his hand in something sticky, I think "twas glue, and he made shift to carry one or two pieces away a sticking to the back of his hand, he! he! he! "Tis a sin to laugh. So you see luck was on the wrong side as usual; they had done the trick; but how they did it, that, methinks, will never be known till doomsday. Go to, they left their immortal jewels in yon drawer. Well, they got a handful of silver for them; the devil had the worst o" yon bargain. There, father, that is off my mind; often I longed to tell it some one, but I durst not to the women; or Margaret would not have had a friend left in the world; for those two black-hearted villains are the favourites. "Tis always so. Have not the old folk just taken a brave new shop for them in this very town, in the Hoog Straet? There may you see their sign, a gilt sheep and a lambkin; a brace of wolves sucking their dam would be nigher the mark. And there the whole family feast this day; oh, "tis a fine world. What, not a word, holy father; you sit there like stone, and have not even a curse to bestow on them, the stony-hearted miscreants. What, was it not enough the poor lad was all alone in a strange land; must his own flesh and blood go and lie away the one blessing his enemies had left him? And then think of her pining and pining all these years, and sitting at the window looking adown the street for Gerard! and so constant, so tender, and true: my wife says she is sure no woman ever loved a man truer, than she loves the lad those villains have parted from her: and the day never pa.s.ses but she weeps salt tears for him. And, when I think, that, but for those two greedy lying knaves, yon winsome lad, whose life I saved, might be by her side this day the happiest he in Holland; and the sweet la.s.s, that saved my life, might be sitting with her cheek upon her sweetheart"s shoulder, the happiest she in Holland in place of the saddest; oh, I thirst for their blood, the nasty, sneaking, lying, cogging, cowardly, heartless, bowelless--how now?!"
The monk started wildly up, livid with fury and despair, and rushed headlong from the place with both hands clenched and raised on high. So terrible was this inarticulate burst of fury, that Jorian"s puny ire died out at sight of it, and he stood looking dismayed after the human tempest he had launched.
While thus absorbed he felt his arm grasped by a small, tremulous, hand.
It was Margaret Brandt.
He started: her coming there just then seemed so strange.
She had waited long on Peter"s tombstone, but the friar did not come. So she went into the church to see if he was there still. She could not find him.
Presently, going up the south aisle, the gigantic shadow of a friar came rapidly along the floor and part of a pillar, and seemed to pa.s.s through her. She was near screaming: but in a moment remembered Jorian"s shadow had come in so from the churchyard: and tried to clamber out the nearest way. She did so, but with some difficulty; and by that time Clement was just disappearing down the street: yet, so expressive at times is the body as well as the face, she could see he was greatly agitated. Jorian and she looked at one another, and at the wild figure of the distant friar.
"Well?" said she to Jorian, trembling.
"Well," said he, "you startled me. How come you here of all people?"
"Is this a time for idle chat? What said he to you? He has been speaking to you; deny it not."