“I think you are more fool than heretic,” his wife said angrily; “and that is the best hope for us. But come in, boy, and sit down; my husband will keep you gossiping at the door for the next hour if you would listen to him.”
“I shall not be sorry to sit down, mistress,” Ned said entering the low roofed room. “I have walked from Axel since morning.”
“That is a good long walk truly;” the woman said. “Are you going on to Brussels? If so, your nearest way would have been by Antwerp.”
“I took the wrong road,” Ned said; “and as they told me that there was but a mile or two difference between them, I thought I might as well keep on the one I had first taken.”
“You are from Holland, are you not, by your speech?” the woman asked.
“Yes; I have come from Holland,” Ned replied.
“And is it true what they say, that the people there have thrown off the authority of the duke, and are going to venture themselves against all the strength of Spain?”
“Some have risen and some have not,” Ned replied. “None can say what will come of it.”
“You had best not say much about your coming from Holland,” the woman said; “for they say that well nigh all from that province are heretics, and to be even suspected of being a heretic in Brabant is enough to cost anyone his life.”
“I am not one to talk,” Ned replied; “but I thank you for your caution, mistress. I have been questioned already by Philip Von Aert, and he said he would see me again; but in truth I have no intention of further intruding on him.”
“He is one of the Council of Blood,” the woman said, dropping her voice and looking round anxiously; “and one of the most cruel of them. Beware, my lad, how you fall into his hands, for be assured he will show you no mercy, if he has reason to suspect, but in the slightest, that you are not a good Catholic and loyal to the Spaniards. Rich or poor, gentle or simple, woman or child, it is nought to him. There is no mercy for heretics, whomsoever they may be; and unless you can satisfy him thoroughly your best plan is to go back at once to Axel, and to cross to Holland. You do not know what they are. There are spies in every town and village, and were it known what I have said to you now, little though that be, it would go hard with me. Women have been burned or strangled for far less.”
“I will be careful,” Ned said. “I have business which takes me to Brussels, but when that is discharged I shall betake me back to Holland as soon as I can.”
By this time the woman, who had been standing over the fire while she was talking, had roasted two or three slices of pork, and these, with a piece of black bread and a jug of ale, she placed before Ned.
Her husband, who had been standing at the door, now came in.
“You are no wiser than I am, wife, with all your scolding. I have been listening to your talk; you have scolded me whenever I open my lips, and there you yourself say things ten times as dangerous.”
“I say them inside the house, Peter Grantz,” she retorted, “and don't stand talking at the door so that all the village may hear me. The lad is honest, as I can see by his face, and if I could do aught for him I would do so.”
“I should be glad if you could tell me of some little place where I could put up in Brussels; some place where I could stay while looking out for work, without anyone troubling themselves as to whence I came or where I am going, or what are my views as to religion or politics.”
“That were a difficult matter,” the woman replied. “It is not that the landlords care what party those who visit their house belong to, but that for aught they know there may be spies in their own household; and in these days it is dangerous even to give shelter to one of the new religion. Therefore, although landlords may care nothing who frequent their houses, they are in a way forced to do so lest they themselves should be denounced as harbourers of heretics. Brussels has a strong party opposed to the duke; for you know that it is not those of the new religion only who would gladly see the last of the Spaniards. There are but few heretics in Brabant now, the Inquisition and the Council of Blood have made an end of most, others have fled either to France, or England, or Holland, some have outwardly conformed to the rites of the Church, and there are few indeed who remain openly separated from her, though in their hearts they may remain heretics as before.
“Still there are great numbers who long to see the old Constitution restored — to see persecution abolished, the German and Spanish troops sent packing, and to be ruled by our own laws under the viceroy of the King of Spain. Therefore in Brussels you are not likely to be very closely questioned. There are great numbers of officials, a small garrison, and a good many spies; all of these are for the duke, the rest of the population would rise tomorrow did they see a chance of success. I should say that you are more likely, being a stranger, of being suspected of being a spy than of being a heretic — that is if you are one, which I do not ask and do not want to know. The people of Brussels are not given to tumults as are those of Antwerp and Ghent, but are a quiet people going their own way. Being the capital there are more strangers resort there than to other places, and therefore people come and go without inquiry; still were I you I would, if you have any good reason for avoiding notice, prefer to lodge outside the city, entering the gates of a morning, doing what business you may have during the day, and leaving again before sunset. That way you would altogether avoid questionings, and will attract no more attention than other country people going in to sell their goods.”
“Thank you, I will follow your advice,” Ned said. “I have no wish to get into trouble, and being a stranger there I should have difficulty in proving that my story is a true one were I questioned.”
The next morning Ned set out at daybreak, and arrived at Brussels early in the afternoon. He had determined to adopt the advice given him the evening before; and also that he would not endeavour to get a lodging in any of the villages.
“It will not take me more than a day, or at most two days, to deliver my letters,” he thought to himself, “and there will be no hardship in sleeping in the fields or under a tree for a couple of nights. In that way I shall escape all notice, for people talk in villages even more than they do in towns.” He had decided that he would not that day endeavour to deliver any of the letters, but would content himself with walking about the town and learning the names of the streets, so that he could set about delivering the letters without the necessity for asking many questions. When within half a mile of the town he left the road, and cutting open the lining of his jerkin took out the letters. Then he cut up a square piece of turf with his knife, scooped out a little earth, inserted the packet of letters, and then stamped down the sod above it. In another hole close to it he buried the money hidden in his boot, and then returning to the road walked on into Brussels, feeling much more comfortable now that he had for a time got rid of documents that would cost him his life, were they found upon him.
Passing through the gates, he wandered about for some hours through the streets, interested in the stir and bustle that prevailed. Mingled with the grave citizens were Spanish and German soldiers, nobles with their trains of pages and followers, deputies from other towns of Brabant and Artois, monks and priests, country people who had brought in their produce, councillors and statesmen, Spanish nobles and whining mendicants. He learnt the names of many of the streets, and marked the houses of those for whom he had letters. Some of these were nobles, others citizens of Brussels. He bought some bread and cheese in the marketplace, and ate them sitting on a doorstep; and having tied some food in a bundle to serve for supper, he left the town well satisfied with his discoveries.