"Is this not your house, then?"

"No. Neither does it belong to the Prince. It is the city home of someone sympathetic to our cause." Van Roos handed Pieter a gla.s.s of wine and sat down with his own. "It should be a relief to you to be able to go openly to Delft."

"There are two ways of looking at that."

"Agreed."

"I realize it must have been Gerard Meverden who put in a report about me."

Van Roos appeared to study his wine. "Do you suppose you would have been brought into this intelligence organization on the strength of one man's recommendation? You were double-checked by someone else."

Pieter wondered who that person might be, but did not ask. In the game he was about to play names and ident.i.ties would not be bandied about. "What is my first step to be?"

"Gerard Meverden will be waiting for you when you return to your house after leaving here. Although he will not now be working in Delft he will return there at frequent intervals and will let you know how you can contact him. There is no time to be lost."

"Is invasion so imminent?"

"I fear so. We have winter as a breathing s.p.a.ce, because no army moves when there is ice and snow, but by spring we can expect the worst. Our old success against the Spanish led us to believe we were invincible, but that is no longer the case. Inevitably our officers have thought more about their plumage and finery and their gourmet banquets than about keeping their soldiers primed for battle. Fortresses which withstood long sieges by the Spaniards without surrender have been allowed to fall into disrepair. Cannons drawn out of storage are collapsing on wooden carriages that have rotted from damp and neglect. Never has Holland been in greater danger."

"Tell me how I'm to play my part until the fighting starts. I have the Prince's instructions, but would be glad of further details."

"First of all, always go well armed."

Pieter indicated his sword and patted the side of his coat, which covered the pistol in his belt. "I came prepared this evening, not knowing what awaited me."

"Very wise." Van Roos then proceeded to list all that Pieter should look for in the task he had undertaken. "Stay at the Mechelin tavern. It's the largest in Delft and all kinds of travelers come and go, apart from it being popular with local people. Make a regular booking and then you'll never be without a room. Listen and observe and never draw unnecessary attention to yourself, particularly when people are in their cups and tongues are loosened. You've a hard task ahead of you, but you have been judged a man of courage and determination and the Prince has faith in you. With the fate of our country hanging in the balance even the smallest discovery might tip the scales in our favor, so never dismiss anything as being too insignificant to note."

Pieter asked several other questions, which van Roos answered to his satisfaction, and then they left by the same way they had come. By the steps near the Margere bridge Pieter alighted and the boat carried van Roos elsewhere. Gerard was waiting when Pieter reached his house again. They grinned as soon as they saw each other.

"So you have a new duty, my friend," Gerard said, clapping Pieter on the shoulder as soon as Vrouw de Hout was out of earshot.

"Yes, and I thank you for putting my name forward. I thought at first we should be working as a team, but now I find that is not entirely the case."

"No. I am concentrating on a section of the coast. We know weapons are being brought in by sea to arm those traitors prepared for their own gain to sell our country to Louis XIV. Nevertheless, we shall meet frequently in Delft."

They talked late into the night and met early at the breakfast table the next morning. They were able to ride in the same direction along the road for most of the way, autumn leaves flying up in rusty clouds from their horses' hooves. When they parted company Gerard made for the coast and Pieter covered the last miles to Delft. He left his horse in the Mechelin stables, secured a room at the tavern and then went into the Vermeer gallery. Jan was in the process of selling a painting, but when he saw Pieter he nodded a greeting and indicated the door that led to the living quarters of the house. There he met Jan's daughter Lysbeth, who took him to Catharina in the kitchen, where she was baking.

"Pieter! What a surprise! Have you come from Haarlem?"

"No, from Amsterdam."

"What a cold ride you must have had. Go and get warm by the fire in the studio, because I know whom you've come to see. Lysbeth will show you the way."

He found Francesca at work, and when she stood momentarily speechless at seeing him so unexpectedly, he embraced her, she with her brush and palette still in her hands. They sat down on painting stools by the fire, where they were completely alone. He began by telling her of the expansion of his business in Delft. "But," he said, "much as I want to be near you I would wish it to be in any other town rather than this one. My first thought when I was instructed to come here was that it counteracted our plans not to meet until Christmas for safety's sake."

"You say you were instructed?"

"What I am about to tell you is for you alone. You may well be able to help me by being my eyes and ears, especially when I can't be in Delft."

When he had told her everything she spoke without hesitation. "What should I watch for?"

He listed what had been put to him and since he had decided to open a small office in Delft there would be no difficulty in her getting any useful information to him.

"There's one more matter to settle," he said. "I must let Vrouw Wolff know I'm going to be in town quite frequently and at the same time impress upon her that I'm here on business and not in pursuit of you."

"Yes, you'll have to do that. Talk spreads so fast in Delft that sooner or later your name would be spoken in her hearing." She raised her hands in a little gesture of uncertainty. "There was an incident in her house that struck me as strange at the time, but it happened months ago and couldn't have any connection with this new venture of yours."

"What was it?"

His eyes sharpened with interest as she told him how she had talked to the traveler from Utrecht on one of the rare occasions when she had seen those who stayed there, and how she had overheard Geetruyd's anger afterward. "I don't hear anything from downstairs now," she concluded, "because after I located the loose brickwork I stuffed the s.p.a.ce with old paint rags."

"Do you know which room the voices came from?"

"Yes. It can only be the bedchamber at the front of the house two floors below mine.

"If the paint rags were removed you might possibly hear something of interest again and in the meantime it would be helpful if you could keep a record of the travelers who come to the house, noting anything that seems unusual in the light of what I've confided to you. The incident you described may have been nothing more than a spurt of feminine jealousy on Vrouw Wolff's part, but it's odd that she should have said what she did about the possibility of you recognizing him again."

"I will remove the paint rags whenever I know somebody is staying. Normally it was only the bang of a door or very loud snoring that I heard and there must have been some trick in the acoustics that made Geetruyd's voice so clear. If ever the chance presents itself I will inspect that room."

"Don't take any unnecessary risks."

"I'll be careful." Then she remembered the sketch of the traveler she had made and found it in a file. "I sketch faces that have character and I have a large collection now. The bone structure of this traveler's visage particularly interested me."

Pieter studied the sketch before putting it away in his pocket. "This likeness may prove useful."

Before leaving he was keen to see the painting on which she was presently engaged. It was of Catharina baking in the kitchen, exactly as he had seen her earlier, the flesh tone warm, the blue of her bodice and the red of her skirt clear and bright against the somber tones of the kitchen. In the background Elizabeth was pouring milk into a bowl. A basket of newly baked bread was on the table. It was an ambitious subject, masterly executed.

"Your work is advancing to the top, exactly as I knew it would," he said.

They were standing hand in hand in front of the painting and she rested her head against his shoulder. His praise was always simply stated and deeply felt. There were many reasons why she loved him.

GEETRUYD RECEIVED PIETER frostily. "I remember your name very well. Francesca was forbidden to have anything to do with you and I thought the whole matter settled a long time ago."

"I've come here to your house specifically to see you, mevrouw, not Francesca."

"State your purpose."

He explained that he was extending his business to Delft and gave her some idea about his design work. She listened attentively, never taking her hard gaze from him. "So," he said in conclusion, "since I have no wish to cause Francesca any trouble, I ask you to accept my reason for being in this town."

Geetruyd eyed him suspiciously. Was this a ploy to put her off her guard or was it a genuine request to keep Francesca out of punishment in case of a chance meeting? For the time being it seemed best to play along with him.

"How sensible of you to come to me first. I shall give Francesca permission to nod good day to you in pa.s.sing, but I draw the line at any resumption of whatever was once between you."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Francesca and I were only friends when she came here. A good many months have gone by since then. I have no wish to return to that earlier time."

She gave a nod. "I shall see to it that Francesca is left in no doubt as to why you are in this town. She is a proud young woman. You'll have no bother from her."

"That's all settled, then."

Geetruyd saw him to the door and was thoroughly amiable. "Unfortunately I have no garden for bulbs, but I may treat myself to a few tulips from your stall next year when they are in flower."

As soon as he had gone she dashed for her cloak and then followed him, determined to check that he did not make for Mechelin Huis. He did cross the square in that direction, but went straight into the tavern. She waited inconspicuously until Weintje pa.s.sed by without noticing her on the way to fetch Francesca. When Geetruyd saw the two of them coming back across the square together with no sign of the young man darting after them, she hastened home ahead of them and was in a chair by the fire when they arrived.

Francesca was not in the least surprised when Geetruyd immediately demanded she turn out her pockets and her purse. In the early days these random checks had been made frequently to see if she had any secret love notes from Pieter or anyone else in her possession. It was one more indignity to be suffered under Geetruyd's regime.

At dinner Geetruyd informed her of Pieter's visit. "A fine-looking young man, altogether too worldly and mature for you. I can quite understand, now that I've seen him, why you were eager to keep contact with him during your first days here. You must have thought I was very hard on you at the time, but it was all for the best. He made it perfectly clear to me that he has no wish for you to go out of your way to talk to him while he is busy organizing his business."

Clara spoke up, hurt on Francesca's behalf that the young man should have made such a point of rejecting her. "Francesca would never run after anyone who did not want her! She has no need in any case, being betrothed to Heer van Deventer."

Geetruyd dropped a fork onto her plate with a clatter. Only then did Clara realize what she had said. Geetruyd's face was venomous. "What was that statement you made, Clara?"

Clara could not answer. Her tongue seemed to have swollen in her mouth and her jaw had clenched. She had been terrified of Geetruyd many times, but never more than now. Without being aware of it she stared back at her with glazed eyes like a mesmerized rabbit. Francesca answered for her.

"It's true. I told Clara one day."

Geetruyd's glittering glare switched to her. "Why did you not tell me?"

"If you had asked I would have told you. My father and Ludolf signed a marriage contract without my knowledge. I knew nothing about it until I was home last spring. It's not my wish at all. If I could be free of him it would mean everything to me."

Geetruyd fought for control. "Ungrateful girl!" she shouted wildly. "He's destined for great heights one day! And it will all be wasted on you!" She threw her napkin on the table, thrust back her chair and swept tempestuously from the room. Her bedchamber door slammed upstairs.

Clara turned a frightened face toward Francesca. "I've done a dreadful thing."

"No, you haven't. Geetruyd would have had to know sooner or later."

It soon became apparent that Geetruyd was not going to emerge from her bedchamber again that evening. Clara and Weintje went to bed. Francesca, still in the parlor, decided to seize the chance that had come so unexpectedly. Taking a candle, she crept downstairs to the hall. No travelers were staying in the house and there was no danger of meeting anyone. Once in the hall, she crossed to the front bedchamber leading out of it and, finding the door was not locked, she entered swiftly, closing it behind her.

The wall bed was narrow, but had rich hangings and a brocade coverlet. There was a table with writing materials and the usual furnishings. Crossing to the Delft-tiled fireplace, she stepped under the canopy to stand by the empty firebox as she searched for some cause for the curious transmitting of sound to her room. Then her candle showed her a cracked tile, half of which had long since gone and which appeared to have taken some crumbling brickwork with it. She judged that voices were magnified when people stood close to the canopy, which acted like a wide mouth to the funnel created by the cavity within the chimney breast leading up to her room. It explained why she had only caught a sc.r.a.p of Geetruyd's conversation, as the woman had come near the fireplace and then moved away again.

Carefully Francesca removed the remaining piece of tile, which dislodged another that was loose. She took that for good measure, not wanting it to fall by its own accord and draw attention to the gap that was presently out of sight from anywhere except the unlikely place where she was standing. Weintje would wash the whole of the fireplace once a week, as she did others in the house, whether the room was occupied or not, but Francesca had seen she only stretched her arm inside the various canopies and never looked closely at the tiles themselves. Some brick dust had fallen to the hearth. Francesca wiped it up carefully with her handkerchief, into which she also concealed the tiling. It made a bulky little package, but she went back upstairs and reached her own bedchamber safely. There she removed the paint rags from the aperture in her fireplace and deposited the tiles within, where they would never be seen again unless the canopy and the chimney breast were ever demolished. After shaking the brick dust in her handkerchief out the window, she knew she had removed all evidence of what she had done.

Chapter 21.

WHEN PIETER LEFT DELFT AFTER SPENDING TWO WEEKS there, he felt he had laid good groundwork and also secured a small office in Kerkstraat where he could work on local projects while giving him a solid foothold in the town. As yet he had gleaned nothing of value to his a.s.signment, but that would have been highly unlikely so early in his quest. During his stay he had spent every evening in the taproom of the Mechelin and had had no difficulty in getting himself known as a Haarlem man making ready to open up a new branch of his business locally. He had called on Vrouw Thin since she moved in wealthy circles and could establish him in another sphere of society. Unexpectedly, on her recommendation, he had gained two commissions for newly designed layouts of sizeable gardens. Both clients were wealthy men, but as yet he did not know where their political sympathies lay. All he could hope for was that sooner or later he would uncover something, however slight, that would set him on a trail.

He went back to Amsterdam, intent on speaking to Neeltje again. Previously she had concentrated on anything that might help him protect Francesca, but in the light of the strange little incident Francesca had reported to him, he felt anything Geetruyd Wolff had written to Ludolf might be of some interest. It was a long shot, but worth trying, because Ludolf was an unprincipled, self-made man with much to lose if war should come. One thing to be guarded against was too hasty a step in any direction that might lead to the capture of one man and the escape of many more, all equally dangerous to the freedom of Holland.

Disappointingly, he learned from his housekeeper that Neeltje had been given notice from the van Deventer house and was presently employed as companion to an old woman. Having acquired the address, he called on Neeltje, who was content to be looking after a kindly person again, but she could think of nothing in the letters that would be of any help to him.

"It always seemed to me that Vrouw Wolff wrote of business matters and nothing else," Neeltje said, puzzled by this new line of questioning, for which he had given no reason. "Sometimes she actually referred to investments at the Exchange."

Although she promised to search her memory, Pieter was not optimistic that she would remember anything useful to him. He thanked her for all she had done and agreed to convey her good wishes to Francesca and her sisters.

When Pieter arrived at the Visser house, Griet showed him through to the studio, as Hendrick was working without a model that day. Hendrick proved to be in good spirits. There were days when his fingers still made it painful to hold a brush, but then he would take one of his breaks from work and enjoy the convivial company in the taverns with a game or two of cards with modest stakes. He had learned a lesson and never forgot the outcome was still in the balance, even though it was weighed heavily in his favor with Sybylla's marriage to a wealthy bridegroom only a few weeks away.

"Is the Civil Guard painting finished?" Pieter asked him after giving him news of Francesca.

Hendrick frowned irritably. "No, it's not. I can't work only on that piece. I've been busy with other work. I hope you haven't come here to bring more complaints. Your fellow officers don't understand how difficult it is for me to remember appointments for sittings or, if I do remember, I may not feel like painting a face not of my choosing on that particular day."

Pieter had received reports that all was not going as well as had been expected. There was growing impatience for the painting to be ready. "When I leave here I'll take a look at it in the church. Is Sybylla home?"

"Yes, she is, and she'll go with you. I've never known her to take such an interest in a work of art before. Not only does she view it at least once a week, but she is nagging me constantly to get it done before her marriage."

"I hope you will." Pieter spoke firmly.

"All right!" Hendrick waved an impatient hand. "I'll do my best. I expect you'll find Sybylla is still upstairs with the seamstress. Come and dine with me at a tavern this evening. I need some sensible conversation. There's no talk in this house that centers on anything other than the wedding."

They arranged to meet at a certain tavern. The seamstress was just leaving the house as Pieter went into the reception hall and Sybylla was delighted to see him, greeting him with a full kiss on the lips.

"How are Francesca and Aletta? Have you seen them? Say you have!" she exclaimed.

He suggested they talk on the way to the church and she rushed to get a cloak. Then she tucked her arm into his and set a swift pace as he told her all he could about her sisters. She also had something to tell him that linked indirectly to Francesca.

"Griet's husband, who is a seaman, as you know, told her something before he went to sea. She pa.s.sed it on in confidence to me as a warning for Francesca, but since you are so close to her I want you to know too. Ludolf called at the house two or three times while Sijmon was here and that's how all this came to light. Sijmon recognized him as a privateer he had served under for a short while during his cabin-boy days, one voyage being enough under Ludolf's command, although van Deventer was not the surname he used then."

"Was Sijmon certain he had made no mistake?"

"He admitted he wasn't sure at first. The modulated voice, the curled periwig, the clean-shaven face and grand clothes, combined with the lapse of seventeen years, would have fooled him if it hadn't been for Ludolf's gait. I'm sure you've noticed how he throws himself into a certain swagger when he walks. It was that walk, which Sijmon had seen many times on the ship's deck, that convinced him as to Ludolf's ident.i.ty."

"So now we know how Ludolf made his original fortune." Pieter was wondering if Geetruyd's friendship with the man went back to those days.

"I'd be frantic about Francesca having to marry him if I didn't know that Adriaen is prepared to pay Father's debts and set her free."

"Is that settled?"

"Not yet, but it will be. Adriaen has said over and over again that he wants me to be happy in every way." Flirtatiously she snuggled up against him. "Oh, Pieter, you should see how generous he is to me. My betrothal gift was a glorious diamond necklace and eardrops. I have only to glance in a shop window at something and it is mine. Aunt Janetje sent me a Florentine silver brocade for my wedding gown, but Adriaen has allowed me to choose dozens of lovely fabrics for the many garments I'll need and his mother's seamstress and an army of a.s.sistants are making them up for me. Rich women don't go to shops to choose what they want, you know. Tradesmen will bring everything to the house."

"So you are happy, Sybylla?"

"Happier than I've ever been in my life!" she declared, her eyes challenging him to suppose otherwise. They had reached the church and she darted in ahead of him. Following her, he heard her disappointed exclamation and saw her expression droop. "Hans is not here!"

"Is he still coming to paint every day?"

"Just for a little while each morning. He has a room somewhere that is his home and his studio, and he does his own work there. Father's tardiness over painting the remaining sitters makes it impossible for him to finish this group painting as yet."

Her pace was slow as she led the way to the great canvas, her eagerness to get to it having evaporated completely. When Pieter viewed the painting he saw a vividly dramatic group, the sitters not just staring out of the canvas, but in animated discussion of how they would defend Amsterdam in an emergency, a map of the city spread out on the table around which they sat or stood. Five faces had still to be done, although collars and clothes and hair had all been completed. The hands of those men had also been left blank, for to an artist hands were as individual as faces. Pieter noticed that Sybylla was peering frowningly at a corner of the painting.

"Are you looking for the mouse?"

Her smile returned with dancing eyes. "You could only have heard about it from Francesca, because n.o.body else knows. You won't tell, will you?"