“You mean,” said Foy, “that we ought to be there before him.”

Martha nodded and answered, “If we can, but I think that at best there must be a fight for it.”

“Yes,” said Martin, “a fight.  Well, I should like another fight with Ramiro.  That fork-tongued adder has got my sword, and I want to get it back again.”

“Oh!” broke in Elsa, “is there to be more fighting?  I hoped that at last we were safe, and going straight to Leyden, where the Prince is.  I hate this bloodshed; I tell you, Foy, it frightens me to death; I believe that I shall die of it.”

“You hear what she says?” asked Foy.

“We hear,” answered Martha.  “Take no heed of her, the child has suffered much, she is weak and squeamish.  Now I, although I believe that my death lies before me, I say, go on and fear not.”

“But I do take heed,” said Foy.  “Not for all the treasures in the world shall Elsa be put in danger again if she does not wish it; she shall decide, and she alone.”

“How good you are to me,” she murmured, then she mused a moment.  “Foy,” she said, “will you promise something to me?”

“After your experience of Ramiro’s oaths I wonder that you ask,” he answered, trying to be cheerful.

“Will you promise,” she went on, taking no note, “that if I say yes and we go, not to Leyden, but to seek the treasure, and live through it, that you will take me away from this land of bloodshed and murder and torments, to some country where folk may live at peace, and see no one killed, except it be now and again an evil-doer?  It is much to ask, but oh!  Foy, will you promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” said Foy, for he, too, was weary of this daily terror.  Who would not have been that had passed through the siege of Haarlem?

Foy was steering, but now Martha slipped aft and took the tiller from his hand.  For a moment she studied the stars that grew clearer in the light of the sinking moon, then shifted the helm a point or two to port and sat still.

“I am hungry again,” said Martin presently; “I feel as though I could eat for a week without stopping.”

Adrian looked up from over his oar, at which he was labouring dejectedly, and said: 

“There are food and wine in the locker.  I hid them there.  Perhaps Elsa could serve them to those who wish to eat.”

So Elsa, who was doing nothing, found the drink and victuals, and handed them round to the rowers, who ate and drank as best they might with a thankful heart, but without ceasing from their task.  To men who have starved for months the taste of wholesome provender and sound wine is a delight that cannot be written in words.

When at length they had filled themselves, Adrian spoke.

“If it is your good will, brother,” he said, addressing Foy, “as we do not know what lies in front, nor how long any of us have to live, I, who am an outcast and a scorn among you, wish to tell you a story.”