"Pshaw, Peterkin," answered his principal, "thou art ever such a frampold grumbler" –
"Grumbler? not I," said Peterkin; "what pleases other people, will always please me. Only I wish we have not got King Stork, instead of King Log, like the fabliau that the Clerk of Saint Lamberts used to read us out of Meister's æsop's book."
"I cannot guess your meaning, Peterkin," said the Syndic.
"Why then, I tell you, Master Pavillon, that this Boar, or Bear, is like to make his own den of Schonwaldt, and 'tis probable to turn out as bad a neighbour to our town as ever was the old Bishop, and worse. Here has he taken the whole conquest in his own hand, and is only doubting whether he should be called Prince or Bishop; – and it is a shame to see how they have mishandled the old man among them."
"I will not permit it, Peterkin," said Pavillon, bustling up; "I disliked the mitre, but not the head that wore it. We are ten to one in the field, Peterkin, and will not permit these courses."
"Ay, ten to one in the field, but only man to man in the castle; besides that Nikkel Blok the butcher, and all the rabble of the suburbs, take part with William de la Marck, partly for saus and braus, (for he has broached all the ale-tubs and wine-casks,) and partly for old envy towards us, who are the craftsmen, and have privileges."
"Peter," said Pavillon, "we will go presently to the city. I will stay no longer in Schonwaldt."
"But the bridges of this castle are up, master," said Geislaer – "the gates locked, and guarded by these lanzknechts: and, if we were to try to force our way, these fellows, whose every-day business is war, might make wild work of us, that only fight of a holyday."
"But why has he secured the gates?" said the alarmed burgher; "or what business hath he to make honest men prisoners?"
"I cannot tell – not I," said Peter. "Some noise there is about the Ladies of Croye, who have escaped during the storm of the Castle. That first put the Man with the Beard beside himself with anger, and now he's beside himself with drink also."
The Burgomaster cast a disconsolate look towards Quentin, and seemed at a loss what to resolve upon. Durward, who had not lost a word of the conversation, which alarmed him very much, saw nevertheless that their only safety depended on his preserving his own presence of mind, and sustaining the courage of Pavillon. He struck boldly into the conversation, as one who had a right to have a voice in the deliberation. – "I am ashamed," he said, "Meinheer Pavillon, to observe you hesitate what to do on this occasion. Go boldly to William de la Marck, and demand free leave to quit the castle, you, your lieutenant, your squire, and your daughter. He can have no pretence for keeping you prisoner."
"For me and my lieutenant – that is myself and Peter? – good – but who is my squire?"
"I am, for the present," replied the undaunted Scot.
"You!" said the embarrassed burgess; "but are you not the envoy of King Louis of France?"
"True, but my message is to the magistrates of Liege – and only in Liege will I deliver it. – Were I to acknowledge my quality before William de la Marck, must I not enter into negotiation with him? ay, and, it is like, be detained by him. You must get me secretly out of the Castle in the capacity of your squire."
"Good – my squire; – but you spoke of my daughter – my daughter is, I trust, safe in my house in Liege – where I wish her father was, with all my heart and soul."
"This lady," said Durward, "will call you father while we are in this place."
"And for my whole life afterwards," said the Countess, throwing herself at the citizen's feet, and clasping his knees. – "Never shall the day pass in which I will not honour you, love you, and pray for you as a daughter for a father, if you will but aid me in this fearful strait – O, be not hard-hearted! think your own daughter may kneel to a stranger, to ask him for life and honour – think of this, and give me the protection you would wish her to receive!"
"In troth," said the good citizen, much moved with her pathetic appeal – "I think, Peter, that this pretty maiden hath a touch of our Trudchen's sweet look, – I thought so from the first; and that this brisk youth here, who is so ready with his advice, is somewhat like Trudchen's bachelor – I wager a groat, Peter, that this is a true-love matter, and it is a sin not to further it."
"It were shame and sin both," said Peter, a good-natured Fleming, notwithstanding all his self-conceit; and as he spoke, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jerkin.
"She shall be my daughter, then," said Pavillon, "well wrapped up in her black silk veil; and if there are not enough of true-hearted skinners to protect her, being the daughter of their Syndic, it were pity they should ever tug leather more. – But hark ye, – questions must be answered – How if I am asked what should my daughter make here at such an onslaught?"
"What should half the women in Liege make here when they followed us to the Castle?" said Peter; "they had no other reason, sure, but that it was just the place in the world that they should not have come to. – Our yung frau Trudchen has come a little farther than the rest – that is all."
"Admirably spoken," said Quentin: "only be bold, and take this gentleman's good counsel, noble Meinheer Pavillon, and, at no trouble to yourself, you will do the most worthy action since the days of Charlemagne. – Here, sweet lady, wrap yourself close in this veil," (for many articles of female apparel lay scattered about the apartment,) – "be but confident, and a few minutes will place you in freedom and safety. – Noble sir," he added, addressing Pavillon, "set forward."
"Hold – hold – hold a minute," said Pavillon, "my mind misgives me! – This De la Marck is a fury; a perfect boar in his nature as in his name; what if the young lady be one of those of Croye? – and what if he discover her, and be addicted to wrath?"
"And if I were one of those unfortunate women," said Isabelle, again attempting to throw herself at his feet, "could you for that reject me in this moment of despair? Oh, that I had been indeed your daughter, or the daughter of the poorest burgher!"
"Not so poor – not so poor neither, young lady – we pay as we go," said the citizen.
"Forgive me, noble sir," – again began the unfortunate maiden.
"Not noble, nor sir neither," said the Syndic; "a plain burgher of Liege, that pays bills of exchange in ready guilders. – But that is nothing to the purpose. – Well, say you be a countess, I will protect you nevertheless."
"You are bound to protect her, were she a duchess," said Peter, "having once passed your word."
"Right, Peter, very right," said the Syndic; "it is our old Low Dutch fashion, ein wort, ein man; and now let us to this gear. – We must take leave of this William de la Marck; and yet I know not, my mind misgives me when I think of him; and were it a ceremony which could be waved, I have no stomach to go through it."
"Were you not better, since you have a force together, make for the gate and force the guard?" said Quentin.
But with united voice, Pavillon and his adviser exclaimed against the propriety of such an attack upon their ally's soldiers, with some hints concerning its rashness, which satisfied Quentin that it was not a risk to be hazarded with such associates. They resolved, therefore, to repair boldly to the great hall of the castle, where, as they understood, the Wild Boar of Ardennes held his feast, and demand free egress for the Syndic of Liege and his company, a request too reasonable, as it seemed, to be denied. Still the good Burgomaster groaned when he looked on his companions, and exclaimed to his faithful Peter, – "See what it is to have too bold and too tender a heart! Alas! Perkin, how much have courage and humanity cost me! and how much may I yet have to pay for my virtues, before Heaven makes us free of this damned Castle of Schonwaldt!"