The Golden Tulip: A Novel Part 47

Francesca could not resist reading it through as soon as she returned to her quarters to pack. It was a love letter always to be treasured. All she would be able to tell the others was that he was with the Prince, but he had not stated his exact whereabouts. She feared he was in the thick of the fighting.

Her packing was soon done, because she had only those items she had brought with her on the night she had arrived. She changed quickly out of the inst.i.tution's garments and into her own clothes. With a bundle looped over her arm she returned to her waiting sister and her master. The three of them rode to his house in the de Veere coach. Francesca was starved for family news. She learned that all was well with Hendrick and Maria. What was more, Aletta had heard again from Sybylla.

"She wanted to let me know she was pregnant. I think she was longing to tell one of us her good news and this time she gave me her address in Rotterdam. I was able to let her know that she and Hans have nothing to fear from the van Jansz family, which was a great relief to both of them. They have been living in fear of discovery."

"Will they be coming back to Amsterdam?"

"No. Sybylla has Father's touchy pride and she wants to wait until the whole affair has completely blown over and been forgotten." Aletta chatted on, filling gaps. Geetruyd had never been found. Ludolf was to have been arrested as a major spy, but no trace could be found of him and it was believed he was with the French forces. "So you are safe from that dreadful man at last, Francesca!"

Jan hoped in his own thoughts that Francesca had been spared the wretched marriage, but everything depended on whether France could be kept from overrunning Holland. Pieter had told him that Geetruyd had revealed once to Francesca that Ludolf believed himself to be destined for high places, which surely meant at least a ministerial position in a Dutch puppet government under Louis XIV. Then none would be able to withstand Ludolf, Francesca least of all.

Catharina and the Vermeer children were waiting at Mechelin Huis to welcome Francesca back again and a feast had been prepared, at which Constantijn was to join them. As yet Francesca had not mentioned her lost mastership and neither had Jan, but as so often in the case of children, Beatrix was unable to hold back a secret and she blurted it out, the shushing from her mother and her older sisters coming too late.

"The Guild liked your paintings, Francesca!"

Wide-eyed, Francesca looked to Jan for confirmation. "Did you submit my work on my behalf?"

"I did," he admitted smilingly. "We had planned a special surprise during which to tell you, because the children have written and prepared a song about it for you. It is to prelude our sitting down to table."

She turned to the younger children and to Beatrix, who had hung her head in shame at her own foolishness in speaking too soon. Francesca tilted the child's chin upward with a fingertip. "Do you know, Beatrix, I'm glad to have been told first. It will make the song twice as enjoyable. May I hear it now?"

The young ones scampered to the virginal and were arranged in their places by the older girls while Catharina seated herself at the keys. The song was simple and amusing and tuneful. Francesca clapped heartily. Then she spoke to Jan again. "Please tell me what happened on the day I should have been before the Guild Committee."

"I gave a full explanation as to why you had been shut away. Not all those on the Guild Committee are for the Prince, but art has no boundaries or politics, race or creed, and your work was judged on its own merits. As you know, no decision is ever made on the day itself, but I was hopeful. Then I had to approach them again when notification came for you to appear on the set day in May. Again they were considerate in view of the quality of your work and said they would see you as soon as you were released, whenever that might be."

"I can't thank you enough!"

"There's no need for thanks. You have worked hard and your painting more than deserves a mastership."

Constantijn had arrived by then and he came to greet her, managing his legs and his crutches even more deftly than he had done when she had last seen him, but she was dismayed to see that he had a bruise down the side of his face and a black eye. He grinned at her concern.

"I took a tumble down the stairs," he explained. "I smashed a crutch but I have a replacement. I'm touched by your sympathy, Francesca," he joked. "I get none from your sister. She simply brings me another crutch she has in reserve and tells me to get up again."

Francesca met Aletta's gaze and they exchanged a look of understanding. There were many ways of showing love.

FRANCESCA STAYED WITH Aletta and Constantijn while awaiting a call to the Guild after they had been informed of her release. She was shown how and where the armed conflict between the Prince's men and the traitors had taken place. Constantijn had been keeping watch and alerted all the servants, giving them firearms. One advance intruder was wounded and another roped up when the three who had come through the old gates were driven up the side gates with no attempt at cover, those with the whips believing they had nothing to fear. Then Constantijn opened fire and after that Aletta and the women kept firearms from the cache primed with gunpowder, ramrod and ball. It was all over very quickly, for Pieter and his men approached from the old gate, and although one traitor made a dash for it he was caught eventually, two were killed and the rest surrendered. Tragically Josephus had already been fatally wounded.

Francesca went with Aletta to put flowers on his grave. She also visited Clara, with whom she had no quarrel. She found her quite content and busy baking pies.

"I didn't know what to do when I heard from Pieter van Doorne that Geetruyd was a traitor and had fled justice," Clara exclaimed. "I think I went around in circles, because I was so lost and frightened, but Weintje saved my senses. She said that if Geetruyd had gone and was never coming back, the house was mine. If I was agreeable she would continue to run the house as accommodation for travelers on condition her sweetheart could live here too as soon as they were married." The little woman beamed and clasped her floury hands together. "I'm so happy, Francesca. Weintje and I are partners and I'm allowed to help. We have only good travelers, respectable men and often married couples, who are sent to us by the landlord of the Mechelin tavern, and all is going well."

It was noticeable that Clara had lost her hunted look, for previously she had lived in constant dread of reprimands and slighting remarks from Geetruyd, who had always considered her incapable of doing anything properly. Now she had come into her own simply by being allowed to do whatever she could do well, including pie making, all with praise from Weintje where previously Geetruyd had poured scorn.

Francesca opened her purse and brought out Ludolf's betrothal ring. "My sister took this with my other trinkets and possessions when she collected them from here after I had been taken into the House of Correction. It should have been Geetruyd's and never mine. Since she has literally left you her house and everything in it I would like you to take this ring. Keep it for a rainy day. I should like to think it was capable of doing some good."

Clara was excited and Weintje was called. The maidservant added her thanks. "I will see that Juffrouw Clara keeps the ring secure. We are going to do well here, because neither I nor my husband-to-be is afraid of hard work. I hope all will go well for you, mejuffrouw. You deserve it after all you had to put up with here."

Francesca was not allowed to leave before she had sampled one of Clara's cherry pies, which was delicious. Weintje's att.i.tude toward Clara had become that of a niece protective toward an elderly aunt. Francesca could foresee only mutual benefit coming from the relationship.

Another source of pleasure for Francesca was that Aletta was painting regularly again. Although her work showed that she was badly in need of tuition, the same vital force was there waiting to be touched into an authoritative control of light and color and movement. Francesca's eye was experienced enough now to see that her sister would never be a great artist, but she would be worthy of a mastership. Aletta was to begin her apprenticeship on the day after Francesca went before the Guild.

"Master Vermeer said he must see one apprentice safely launched into a mastership before he starts work with another," Aletta explained.

When the important day came, Francesca, through the generosity of Constantijn and her sister, had a new outfit to wear. The wide-brimmed straw hat, trimmed with white ribbons, turned upward from her face at one side and her gown was of strawberry-colored silk. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and swept into the grand hall where the president and the dignitaries of the Guild awaited her. They sat at a long table facing her. A single chair, not as high-backed as theirs, had been placed ready for her in front of them. Her six paintings were on display easels and her drawings and etchings laid out on a side table.

The president, a gray-haired man in a velvet hat and crimson robes, greeted her. "Good day to you, Juffrouw Visser. Pray sit down." He indicated the chair facing him and when she had seated herself he continued. "Your work has aroused the interest of us all. There are a number of questions we wish to put to you."

It was not an ordeal. They talked to her of technique and subject matter and her answers appeared to satisfy them. Finally they all rose, she doing likewise, and the president took up a roll of parchment from which the seal of the Guild hung on a scarlet ribbon.

"Juffrouw Francesca Visser, I present you with doc.u.mentation of your mastership of the Guild of St. Luke. You have my most sincere congratulations. You may have been born in Amsterdam, but you will always be a daughter of Delft."

"I'm honored, mijnheer." She received the doc.u.ment from him and then curtsied deeply. Dazed with happiness, she received the congratulations of the rest of the Committee and then walked with light steps from the room. In the anteroom there were more congratulations to come from Jan and Catharina, as well as from Aletta and Constantijn, who had been waiting there. Within an hour her work was back at Jan's studio and with joy she put her signature to each painting, incorporating a tiny tulip in a deep golden hue. It was almost too small to be seen, except by peering closely, but Aletta's sharp eyes noted the shaded color she had chosen for the bloom.

"Why gold?" she asked. "It was cream when you signed Ludolf's portrait."

"This is a new beginning and a link with a certain time when as far as I could see the tulips were gilded by the sunrise."

Aletta asked no more questions. Whatever lay beyond that moment did not belong to anyone other than Francesca and the man she loved.

FRANCESCA READ PIETER'S love letter many times over. He had advised her to go home to Amsterdam as soon as she had obtained her mastership and she was making ready for her departure from Delft. Aletta was against her going.

"Surely you would be safer from the warfare here in Delft? Every day we hear more of the French advance toward Amsterdam."

"Pieter would never have wanted me to go there if he hadn't thought it best. In any case, I want to be home with Father and Maria. They need me now with Sybylla away."

"I would come with you on a visit if I could. But I can't risk an upsurge in the war cutting me off from Constantijn."

"I agree. Your duty is to be with him and to make the most of the teaching you will receive from Master Vermeer."

Francesca found it hard to part from her sister and also from the Vermeers. Each of the children had drawn a picture or made a little gift for her, an embroidered bookmark and a purse from the two older girls. In the studio she had a few minutes alone with Jan. He was about to start a new painting ent.i.tled An Allegory of Faith. She did not doubt it would be as beautiful as the rest of his work.

"It's a long time since my first day here," she said to him. "If the suggestion that I be your pupil had not been made I might never have become a master of painting in my own right."

"I think you would." His eyes were smiling. "Go to the heights, Francesca. You have it in you."

"I thank you for everything."

He and his family came to see her off, as did Aletta and Constantijn. "Come back soon!" they all called to her.

"I will!" She waved, but her gaze lingered last on Jan. She had a sudden sad foreboding that she would never see him again.

IN AMSTERDAM IT did not take Francesca long to settle down as if she had never been away, although that was only in the routine of the house. She realized that once a break had been made with one's childhood origins, for whatever reason, nothing can be the same again. She belonged, and yet her place was no longer here, for she had her own life to lead.

"If Pieter should ever get to Amsterdam, Father," she asked, "would you allow us to marry?"

Since the reports of the war were promising that day, Hendrick answered generously. "Indeed I would. You've been kept apart too long."

"Then give me that marriage contract to burn."

He found it and handed it over to her. She went into the kitchen and thrust it into the firebox to watch the flames curl the doc.u.ment to blackened ashes. Maria, who had come hobbling into the kitchen, tapped her cane approvingly on the tiled floor.

"Well done. That should have been burnt as soon as it was written."

It was not long before Hendrick began to regret his rash promise. The French army was advancing toward Amsterdam again, delayed only by the mopping up of quite ill-fortified places that could have done little harm. It was as if Louis XIV's l.u.s.t for conquest made it impossible for him not to place his seal on everything in his path for miles around. At Utrecht he had celebrated with ceremonial reviews of his troops and banquets while, according to rumors that sped around, quite ignoring the advice of his generals to take Holland swiftly and crush it instantly under his heel. Hendrick knew that if Amsterdam fell there could only be one outcome for Francesca and he himself dreaded coming face to face with Ludolf again.

He was seized with anxiety when he heard the sounds of a joyful reunion in the reception hall and came from his study to see that Pieter was there. The young man and Francesca were locked in a kiss, she being twirled around in his arms, her petticoats swirling.

She turned to Hendrick, her face radiant. "Remember your promise, Father! Pieter has something important to ask you."

Hendrick felt cornered and he played for time, holding up a hand. "First of all I have a question to put to Pieter." His gaze had taken in Pieter's travel-worn clothes, the dust on his boots and in his hair. "It looks to me as if you have come straight from the fighting."

"I have, mijnheer."

"Then tell me this in an honest manner. Are we going to drive the French from Dutch soil?"

"We are indeed." Pieter spoke with total confidence. "It's not going to be easy and we may have many hard years ahead, but a tidal wave of loyalty and support for the Prince is rising on all sides. He is meeting it wherever he goes now. Things have changed a great deal since the city of Utrecht kept its gates closed against him because they were preparing to welcome the French. More and more volunteers are joining our forces every day. Our ultimate freedom is not in doubt."

"In that case," Hendrick stated, reluctant already to dash the look of joyous hope from Francesca's face, "you may marry my daughter."

"I'm honored!" In high spirits Pieter bowed, but he had another request to make. "Would you let the marriage take place today? This afternoon?"

Hendrick bl.u.s.tered, caught off guard. "So soon! There's no need to rush matters."

"There is." Pieter was insistent. "Tomorrow at dawn I have to leave again."

There was something in the young man's eyes that conveyed a message of its own to Hendrick. It said that time and life itself might be running out. It was not hard to guess that when Pieter left Amsterdam in the morning some dangerous mission awaited him.

"Very well," Hendrick agreed. "You had better get the necessary papers from the Town Hall and present them to the minister at the Zuider Church. The ceremony should take place there."

For the ceremony Francesca wore the same silk gown in which she had received her mastership. She picked some roses from the courtyard flower beds and made them into a chaplet for her head. Pieter changed into clothes kept at his Amsterdam house. Hendrick escorted the bride to her groom and only Maria and Griet witnessed the ceremony. Summer sunshine filled the church, shining through the high clear windows, and the scent of the roses hung lightly in the still air.

The repast afterward was the best Griet could produce at short notice and Hendrick provided the finest wine from his cellar. In the early evening Pieter and Francesca left her home to go to his house together. They had it to themselves, for he had given his housekeeper time off to stay with her daughter. Before leaving, the woman had placed flowers in their bedchamber.

When they reached the room Pieter took the chaplet of roses from Francesca's hair. She held him lightly by the wrists as he lowered the flowers. "Tell me where you are going tomorrow. I want to know."

He placed the chaplet down on a chest and put his arms lightly around her.

"Tomorrow I take command of troops who will be arriving in Amsterdam at dawn. Our task will be to defend the castle at Muiden from the French."

She knew the castle. It was only two hours from Amsterdam and occupied a strategic location on the Vecht River. All the ships that went to and from Amsterdam via the Zuider Zee had to pa.s.s under the guns of the castle. Equally important was the fact that the princ.i.p.al sluices by which the land around Amsterdam could be flooded were at Muiden. If the castle fell into French hands it would be a catastrophe.

"Let me come with you. The officers have their wives there, don't they?"

"Yes, but that's only because it's a peacetime token force that is still in charge. No more wives will be going there. In any case, be practical. You don't ride, do you?"

"No, but I could travel in an army wagon."

"That's forbidden. We have to be ready for action against the French at all times."

"But they are not so near yet."

"I fear they are. There could be advance parties anywhere now. My duty at the castle will be to await any order from the Prince to open the sluices and let in the sea to make an island of Amsterdam for its protection if the worst should come."

"Then we would be separated until the war ends! I'd be marooned here away from you!"

He reasoned with her. "Why do you think I wanted you out of Delft and here in Amsterdam? It was because I knew of the defenses that had been planned for the city."

"But I'd be as safe in the castle with other wives once the land was flooded."

"In that event I would be relegating command of the garrison to someone else and returning to fight in the Prince's company. You'd still be marooned away from me."

"Yet we would have had a little more time together."

"No, my darling, no!" The set of his chin showed her that he would not alter his decision. She made one last effort. "If there should be any wives traveling with the troops tomorrow, then would you let me go too?"

Since he was full of mounting desire for her and knew he could agree to that request without any chance of it being fulfilled, he gave a nod. "On that condition only." His arms tightened about her and his mouth found hers, silencing all talk except that of love.

Their night together with the windows open to the soft air and a sky full of stars was all the more tender and pa.s.sionate through the imminence of their parting on the morrow. He made love to her in a variety of ways, constantly aroused by her loving, often erotic response. They exulted in each other's bodies, intoxicated by love, and no less pleasurable were the quiet, drowsy times when they lay entwined smiling and whispering until one slept and then the other, only to become simultaneously stirred by pa.s.sion as each remembered again the swift pa.s.sing of the minutes that would fade the stars and bring the dawn.

When the hour came they left the bed together, bathed together and dressed and ate some breakfast all without leaving each other. Then it was time for him to go from the house. He buckled on his sword, put on his orange-plumed hat and took up his riding gloves to tuck them into his orange sash. Then he held her to him and kissed her once more.

"I love you so much," he said softly. "Pray G.o.d this war will not keep us apart for too long."

They went out into the warm, clear morning, collected his horse and reached Dam Square shortly before a column of fifty men marched into view. He was concerned to see how tired they were and questioned the young officer in charge.

"Did you not camp outside the city as ordered?" he demanded.

"No, Captain. We were delayed and I had to march the men all night to get here."

"See that they're fed and let them rest for an hour. Then we must move, and quickly."

A coach, dusty from the summer roads, had drawn up in the wake of the soldiers, not far from where Francesca was standing. She could see a large, sensible-looking woman inside, wearing a white-collared dark gown and a white cap. Her gold eardrops and the rings on her fingers as she wielded a silver-handled fan suggested she was the wife of a well-to-do burgher. The coachman was already giving the horses water and the woman leaned out to address him.

"How long is it to be before we move on again?"

He stepped to one side where he could see her, still holding a leather bucket for the nearest horse. "About an hour and a half, I reckon, mevrouw, by which time the soldiers will have had a rest and their food."

"Is there a hostelry nearby?"

"Yes, I can see one on the corner." He left the horse to open the coach door and lower the step for her. As she alighted, Francesca went forward.

"Your pardon, ma'am, but are you going to Muiden too?"

The woman looked surprised that Francesca should know her destination. "Yes, I am. I have special permission to visit my daughter at the castle. She is there with her husband and is shortly to give birth."

"I'm the wife of Captain van Doorne, who is taking command of the castle. Would you allow me to travel with you?"

"With pleasure. I'll be glad of your company. I'm Vrouw Vreeburg. Will you join me for breakfast at the hostelry?"