“Wait?”
“I want to ask you something.”
I stood aside so that he could serve the woman. I did not like doing so when I was feeling so unsettled, but I had little choice.
When he was done and we were alone again he asked, “Where does your family live?”
“The Oude Langendijck, at Papists’ Corner.”
“No, no,
I flushed at my mistake. “Off the Rietveld Canal, not far from the Koe Gate. Why do you ask?”
His eyes fully met mine at last. “There have been reports of the plague in that quarter.”
I took a step back, my eyes widening. “Has a quarantine been set?”
“Not yet. They expect to today.”
Afterwards I realized he must have been asking others about me. If he hadn’t already known where my family lived, he would never have known to tell me about the plague.
I do not remember getting back from there. Pieter the son must have placed the meat in my pail but all I knew was that I arrived at the house, dropped the pail at Tanneke’s feet and said, “I must see the mistress.”
Tanneke rummaged through the pail. “No sausages, and nothing to take their place! What’s the matter with you? Go straight back to the Meat Hall.”
“I must see the mistress,” I repeated.
“What is it?” Tanneke grew suspicious. “Have you done something wrong?”
“My family may be quarantined. I must go to them.”
“Oh.” Tanneke shifted uncertainly. “I wouldn’t know about that. You’ll have to ask. She’s in with my mistress.”
Catharina and Maria Thins were in the Crucifixion room. Maria Thins was smoking her pipe. They stopped talking when I entered.
“What is it, girl?” Maria Thins grunted.
“Please, madam,” I addressed Catharina, “I have heard that my family’s street may be quarantined. I would like to go and see them.”
“What, and bring the plague back with you?” she snapped. “Certainly not. Are you mad?”
I looked at Maria Thins, which made Catharina angrier. “I have said no,” she announced. “It is
“No, madam.” I lowered my eyes.
“You won’t be going home Sundays until it’s safe. Now go, we have things to discuss without you hanging about.”
I took the washing to the courtyard and sat outside with my back to the door so that I would not have to see anyone. I wept as I scrubbed one of Maertge’s dresses. When I smelled Maria Thins’ pipe I wiped my eyes but did not turn round.
“Don’t be silly, girl,” Maria Thins said quietly to my back. “You can’t do anything for them and you have to save yourself. You’re a clever girl, you can work that out.”
I did not answer. After a while I could no longer smell her pipe.
The next morning he came in while I was sweeping the studio.
“Griet, I am sorry to hear of your family’s misfortune,” he said.
I looked up from my broom. There was kindness in his eyes, and I felt I could ask him. “Will you tell me, sir, if the quarantine has been set?”
“It was, yesterday morning.”
“Thank you for telling me, sir.”
He nodded, and was about to leave when I said, “May I ask you something else, sir? About the painting.”
He stopped in the doorway. “What is it?”
“When you looked in the box, did it tell you to remove the map from the painting?”
“Yes, it did.” His face became intent like a stork’s when it sees a fish it can catch. “Does it please you that the map is gone?”
“It is a better painting now.” I did not think I would have dared to say such a thing at another time, but the danger to my family had made me reckless.
His smile made me grip my broom tightly.
I was not able to work well then. I was worried about my family, not about how clean I could get the floors or how white the sheets. No one may have remarked on my good housekeeping before, but everyone noticed how careless I was now. Lisbeth complained of a spotted apron. Tanneke grumbled that my sweeping caused dust to settle on the dishes. Catharina shouted at me several times—for forgetting to iron the sleeves of her chemise, for buying cod when I was meant to get herring, for letting the fire go out.
Maria Thins muttered, “Steady yourself, girl,” as she passed me in the hallway.
Only in the studio was I able to clean as I had before, maintaining the precision he needed.
I did not know what to do that first Sunday I was not allowed to go home. I could not go to our church either, as it was in the quarantined area as well. I did not want to remain at the house, though—whatever Catholics did on Sundays, I did not want to be among them.
They left together to go to the Jesuit church around the corner in the Molenpoort, the girls wearing good dresses, even Tanneke changed into a yellowish brown wool dress, and carrying Johannes. Catharina walked slowly, holding on to her husband’s arm. Maria Thins locked the door behind her. I stood on the tiles in front of the house as they disappeared and considered what to do. The bells in the New Church tower in front of me began to sound the hour.
I was baptized there, I thought. Surely they will allow me inside for the service.
I crept into the vast place, feeling like a mouse hiding in a rich man’s house. It was cool and dim inside, the smooth round pillars reaching up, the ceiling so high above me it could almost be the sky. Behind the minister’s altar was the grand marble tomb of William of Orange.
I saw no one I knew, only people dressed in sober clothes much finer in their cloth and cut than any I would ever wear. I hid behind a pillar for the service, which I could hardly listen to, I was so nervous that someone would come along and ask me what I was doing there. At the end of the service I slipped out quickly before anyone approached me. I walked round the church and looked across the canal at the house. The door was still shut and locked. Catholic services must last longer than ours, I thought.
I walked as far as I could towards my family’s house, stopping only where a barrier manned by a soldier blocked the way. The streets looked very quiet beyond it.
“How is it,” I asked the soldier, “back there?”
He shrugged and did not reply. He looked hot in his cloak and hat, for though the sun was not out the air was warm and close.
“Is there a list? Of those who have died?” I could barely say the words.
“Not yet.”
I was not surprised—the lists were always delayed, and usually incomplete. Word of mouth was often more accurate. “Do you know—have you heard if Jan the tiler—”
“I know nothing of anyone in there. You’ll have to wait.” The soldier turned away as others approached him with similar queries.
I tried to speak to another soldier on a barrier at a different street. Though friendlier, he too could tell me nothing about my family. “I could ask around, but not for nothing,” he added, smiling and looking me up and down so I would know he didn’t mean money.
“Shame on you,” I snapped, “for seeking to take advantage of those in misery.”
But he did not seem ashamed. I had forgotten that soldiers think of just one thing when they see a young woman.
When I got back to the Oude Langendijck I was relieved to find the house open. I slipped inside and spent the afternoon hiding in the courtyard with my prayer book. In the evening I crept into bed without eating, telling Tanneke my stomach hurt.
