# The Silent Prince/Chapter 33

CHAPTER XXXIII.
UNDER SENTENCE OF DEATH.
Conard Chenoweth lay in a dungeon in the prison at Brussels, condemned to suffer death on the morrow.
Paul Buys, pensionary of Leyden, was in the secret service of the Prince, and employed agents in all parts of the Netherlands to help carry on the work begun by William of Orange. An extensive secret correspondence was conducted between all the large cities and towns of the kingdom. Conrad Chenoweth, as a valued friend of the Prince, was entrusted with important letters for several rich cloth merchants in Brussels, and the object of these letters was to secure money or pledges for the raising of more troops for the Prince.
The real names of the principal personages designated in these letters never appeared; but other names were substituted, which soon became familiar terms, not only in the Netherlands, but also in France, Germany and England. The Prince of Orange was always known as Martin Willemzoon; ​the Duke of Alva as Master Powels van Alblas; Queen Elizabeth as Henry Philipzoon; the King of Denmark as Peter Peterson.
The twelve signs of the zodiac were used to indicate the twelve months of the year, and various other devices, suggested by ingenious minds, were used in this secret correspondence.
While leaving the house of one of these cloth merchants, Conrad Chenoweth was suddenly seized from behind by two powerful ruffians, and his arms pinioned before he could defend himself. He was thrown into prison, and his trial delayed for some weeks until Alva returned from suppressing the rebellion incited by Louis of Nassau.
On the Duke's return Conrad was brought before the Blood Council. Scorning to lie about the papers found concealed about his person, or to betray his relations to the Prince, he was summarily sentenced to death upon the gallows.
And now the last day of his earthly life was drawing to a close, and the twilight was falling. The vesper bells answered each other with silvery chimes, then ceased. The throbbing heart of the city grew still. The darkness and the silence, like something tangible, began to press upon heart and brain. The words which Conrad had often heard his mother repeat, and which formed the bed-rock of her faith, came to him in the gloom: "God will do whatever is best; and His will is always right."
​"The best?" murmured Conrad. "What is best?"
Without were life, freedom, love, happiness; and Conrad Chenoweth was young. Youth, health and rich capacity for enjoyment were his. Within was darkness and the shadow of death. Yet he knew that in life or in death the everlasting arms were always underneath. His soul sought the covert which has been the shelter of innumerable hearts from the "windy storm and tempest," and he cried out in his extremity, "O God, we are Thy servants. Be it done unto us according to Thy word!"
Bright grew the gloom about him, brighter than the sunrise on the hills, which he would never tread again.
An hour passed, and the sound of footsteps was heard approaching the cell. Conrad listened indifferently. The steps came nearer and nearer. The door of the dungeon was unlocked, and a priest entered, bearing a lighted candle in his hands. He threw aside his cowl, and the face of Father Steen was revealed.
Conrad grasped his hand eagerly. "I am glad, reverend Father, that you were allowed to come to me instead of a strange priest. You have ever been my friend."
The Jesuit looked at the glowing face, and a sigh escaped his lips. "You have your mother's eyes," he said, half to himself. "Her son must not die ​like a felon. Conrad Chenoweth, you saved my life once. I have come to save yours. There is no time to waste in words. Attire yourself in this suit as quickly as possible."
He handed the young man the long black robe and cowl of a priest. When Conrad had donned the suit the Jesuit said briefly,
"Now follow me!"
"Where?"
For answer, the priest took the candle and walked to the farther side of the dungeon and examined intently the solid wall of stone masonry. He passed his fingers slowly along the huge blocks of stone. Presently he found a slight depression in the rock, and using his strength he bore down upon this spot, but without any result.
"Give me the benefit of your youthful muscle," he said to the young man. "As I press this spring, bear down with your shoulder upon this block of stone."
The spring had evidently grown rusty from disuse, and it took several attempts with the united strength of both men before the massive block slid from its position and revealed a narrow passage beyond.
"How came you to know of this means of exit?" inquired Conrad.
The priest smiled. "Some ten years ago I was called to confess the head jailer of this prison, who ​was dying. He revealed the secret of this passage to me, and said that after his death I was the only living person aware of the existence of this secret exit from the prison. He confessed that he had committed many foul and bloody wrongs in this underground alley. Follow me, my son, without fear. I know every inch of the way."
Taking the candle they walked for quite a distance between narrow walls, and finally came upon an obstruction which seemed to Conrad to be incapable of removal. It proved to be an ingeniously contrived trap-door, which the priest, who seemed familiar with its workings, easily opened, and they came out into an open field.
"My plan for your escape is this," said Father Steen. "I will see that you pass the city gates in safety. A half mile beyond, in the clump of firs on the right, you will find a swift horse. Ride for your life till sunrise, but remain in concealment during the day. You will find provisions in the saddlebag, as well as a brace of pistols. A man will be guarding the horse, but when you give him the password, 'Loyola,' he will allow you to take the horse without any further conversation. The fellow is close-mouthed, and you do not need to fear that he will take you to be other than you appear—a Jesuit in good and regular standing."
"My kind, generous friend!" said Conrad, grasping the priest's hand. "Will not your noble ​act involve you in difficulties? I cannot accept your aid if it costs you your life."
"Be not needlessly alarmed, my son, I have not been a Jesuit all these years in vain. My tracks are thoroughly covered. The jailer does not know me, as I was careful to conceal my face when I entered the prison to-night. Before sunrise I shall be en route for Rome, whither my Superior has sent me on a special commission. No one in the House knew that I left that place this evening. Monseigneur Ryder is a keen man, and he may have his suspicions when he learns the fact of your escape, but he will protect the interests of his Order."
"You are a noble man!" said Conrad. "Would that you were one of the pioneers of the Reformation, instead of a Jesuit."
Conrad had gone too far. The priest's face hardened.
"There cropped out the fanaticism of John Chenoweth!" he said sternly. "But enough of this! What I am, I am. The years will leave me as they found me. I am striving after holiness, and if at the last I fail of attaining it, it will not be from lack of endeavor."
"Forgive my hasty words!" said Conrad. "I trust you are a sincere follower of Christ, although you are a Jesuit."
​They had now reached the city gates, and Father Steen roused the sleepy guard with these words:
"Open in the name of the Church. My brother in Christ is obliged to depart at once on important business."
The guard opened the gates as he was bidden, and Conrad Chenoweth stepped forth a free man.
Before he could cast about in his mind for suitable words with which to acknowledge a gift so unspeakable, the Jesuit said, "Make haste, brother, and may God speed you on your way." Father Steen then turned on his heel and walked rapidly in the opposite direction.
A week later, in a pleasant house in the suburbs of Leyden, a double wedding was consummated. Francis Junius read the solemn words of the marriage service which united the lives of Reynold Van Straalen and Katharine La Tour, and Conrad Chenoweth and the Burgomaster's daughter Hilvardine.
Dr. Chenoweth was in Leyden with his wife, recovering slowly from the effects of an ugly wound in his side. There were no witnesses to the marriage outside of the family. It was a joyful, yet solemn occasion, for on the morrow the two young men were to join the army of the Prince on the French frontier.
The Huguenot preacher surveyed the little group ​before him with solemn prescience. Lifting his hands in benediction, he said, "Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom; and God remembers His covenant forever; the word He has spoken to a thousand generations."