CHAPTER 6. THE PRICE OF A GOOSE
'We would have all such offenders cut off, and we give express charge that, in the marches through the country, there be nothing compelled from the villages.' --King Henry V.
The Marquis of Suffolk's was a slow progress both in England and abroad,with many halts both on account of weather and of feasts and festivals.Cardinal Beaufort had hurried the party away from London partly in orderto make the match with Margaret of Anjou irrevocable, partly for thesake of removing Eleanor of Scotland, the only maiden who had everproduced the slightest impression on the monastic-minded Henry ofWindsor.
When once out of London there were, however, numerous halts on theroad,--two or three days of entertainment at every castle, and then along delay at Canterbury to give time for Suffolk's retainers, and allthe heralds, pursuivants, and other adjuncts of pomp and splendour, tojoin them. They were the guests of Archbishop Stafford, one of the peaceparty, and a friend of Beaufort and Suffolk, so that their entertainmentwas costly and magnificent, as befitted the mediaeval notions of ahigh-born gentleman, Primate of all England. A great establishment forthe chase was kept by almost all prelates as a necessity; and wheneverthe weather was favourable, hunting and hawking could be enjoyed bythe princesses and their suite. Indeed Jean, if not in the saddle, waspretty certain to be visiting the hawks all the morning, or else playingat ball or some other sport with her cousins or some of the younggentlemen of Suffolk's train, who were all devoted to her.
Lady Drummond found that to try to win her to quieter occupations was invain. The girl would not even try to learn French from Father Romualdby reading, though she would pick up words and phrases by laughing andchattering with the young knights who chanced to know the language.But as by this time Dame Lilias had learnt that there were bounds thatprincely pride and instinct prevented from overpassing, she contentedherself with seeing that there was fit attendance, either by herdaughter Annis, Sir Patrick himself, or one or other of Lady Suffolk'sladies.
To some degree Eleanor shared in her sister's outdoor amusements, butshe was far more disposed to exercise her mind than her body.After having pined in weariness for want of intellectual food, heropportunities were delightful to her. Not only did she read with FatherRomuald with intense interest the copy of the bon Sire Jean Froissart inthe original, which he borrowed from the Archbishop's library, butshe listened with great zest to the readings which the Lady of Suffolkextracted from her chaplains and unwilling pages while the ladies satat work, for the Marchioness, a grandchild of Geoffrey Chaucer, had astrong taste for literature. Moreover, from one of the choir Eleanorobtained lessons on the lute, as well as her beloved harp, and wastaught to train her voice, and sing from 'pricke-song,' so that she muchenjoyed this period of her journey.
Nothing could be more courteous and punctilious than the Marquis ofSuffolk to the two princesses, and indeed to every one of his owndegree; but there was something of the parvenu about him, and, unlikethe Duke of York or Archbishop Stafford, who were free, bright, andgood-natured to the meanest persons, he was haughty and harsh to everyone below the line of gentle blood, and in his own train he kept up adiscipline, not too strict in itself, but galling in the manner in whichit was enforced by those who imitated his example. By the time the suitewas collected, Christmas and the festival of St. Thomas a Becket were sonear that it would have been neglect of a popular saint to have left hisshrine without keeping his day. And after the Epiphany, though theparty did reach Dover in a day's ride, a stormy period set in, puttingcrossing out of the question, and detaining the suite within the massivewalls of the castle.
At last, on a brisk, windless day of frost, the crossing to Calaiswas effected, and there was another week of festivals spread by thehospitality of the Captain of Calais, where everything was as Englishas at Dover. When they again started on their journey, Suffolk severelyinsisted on the closest order, riding as travellers in a hostilecountry, where a misadventure might easily break the existing truce,although the territories of the Duke of Burgundy, through which theirroute chiefly lay, were far less unfavourable to the English than actualFrench countries; indeed, the Flemings were never willingly at war withthe English, and some of the Burgundian nobles and knights had been onintimate terms with Suffolk. Still, he caused the heralds always to keepin advance, and allowed no stragglers behind the rearguard that camebehind the long train of waggons loaded with much kitchen apparatus, andwith splendid gifts for the bride and her family, as well as equipmentsfor the wedding-party, and tents for such of the troop as could notfind shelter in the hostels or monasteries where the slowly-moving partyhalted for the night. It was unsafe to go on after the brief hours ofdaylight, especially in the neighbourhood of the Forest of Ardennes, forwolves might be near on the winter nights. It was thus that the firsttrouble arose with Sir Patrick Drummond's two volunteer followers.Ringan Raefoot had become in his progress a very different looking beingfrom the wild creature who had come with 'Geordie of the Red Peel,' butthere was the same heart in him. He had endured obedience to the Knightof Glenuskie as a Scot, and with the Duke of York and through Englandthe discipline of the troop had not been severe; but Suffolk, though acourtly, chivalrous gentleman to his equals, had not the qualities ofpopularity, and chafed his inferiors.
There were signs of confusion in the cavalcade as they passed betweensome of the fertile fields of Namur, and while Suffolk was haltingand about to send a squire to the rear to interfere, a couple of hisretainers hurried up, saying, 'My Lord, those Scottish thieves willbring the whole country down on us if order be not taken with them.'
Sir Patrick did not need the end of the speech to gallop off at fullspeed to the rear of all the waggons, where a crowd might be seen, andthere was a perfect Babel of tongues, rising in only too intelligibleshouts of rage. Swords and lances were flashing on one side among thehorsemen, on the other stones were flying from an ever-increasing numberof leather-jerkined men and boys, some of them with long knives, axes,and scythes.
George Douglas's high head seemed to be the main object of attack,and he had Ringan Raefoot before him across his horse, apparentlyretreating, while David, Malcolm, and a few more made charges on thecrowd to guard him. When he was seen, there was a cry of which he coulddistinguish nothing but 'Ringan! Geordie! goose--Flemish hounds.'
Riding between, regardless of the stones, he shouted in the BurgundianFrench he had learnt in his campaigns, to demand the cause of theattack. The stones ceased, and the head man of the village, a stoutpeasant, came forward and complained that the varlet, as he calledRingan, had been stealing the village geese on their pond, and whenthey were about to do justice on him, yonder man-at-arms had burst in,knocked down and hurt several, and carried him off.
Before there had been time for further explanation, to Sir Patrick'sgreat vexation, the Marshal of the troop and his guard came up, and thecomplaint was repeated. George, at the same time, having handed Ringanover to some others of the Scots, rode up with his head very high.
'Sir Patrick Drummond,' said the Marshal stiffly, 'you know my Lord'srules for his followers, as to committing outrages on the villeins ofthe country.'
'We are none of my Lord of Suffolk's following,' began Douglas; but SirPatrick, determined to avoid a breach if possible, said--
'Sir Marshal, we have as yet heard but one side of the matter. If wronghave been done to these folk, we are ready to offer compensation, but weshould hear how it has been--'
'Am I to see my poor laddie torn to bits, stoned, and hanged by thesesavage loons,' cried George, 'for a goose's egg and an old gander?'
Of course his defence was incomprehensible to the Flemings, but on theirside a man with a bound-up head and another limping were produced,and the head man spoke of more serious damage to others who could notappear, demanding both the aggressors to be dealt with, i.e. to behanged on the next tree.
'These men are of mine, Master Marshal,' said Sir Patrick.<
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'My Lord can permit no violence by those under his banner,' said theMarshal stiffly. 'I must answer it to him.'
'Do so then,' said Sir Patrick. 'This is a matter for him.'
The Marshal, who had much rather have disposed of the Scottish thieveson his own responsibility, was forced to give way so far as to let theappeal be carried to the Marquis of Suffolk, telling the Flemings, insomething as near their language as he could accomplish, that his Lordwas sure to see justice done, and that they should follow and make theircomplaint.
Suffolk sat on his horse, tall, upright, and angry. 'What is this Ihear, Sir Patrick Drummond,' said he, 'that your miscreants of wildScots have been thieving from the peaceful peasant-folk, and thenbeating them and murdering them? I deemed you were a better man than tostand by such deeds and not give up the fellows to justice.'
'It were shame to hang a man for one goose,' said Sir Patrick.
'All plunder is worthy of death,' returned the Englishman. 'Your Borderlaw may be otherwise, but 'tis not our English rule of honest men. Andhere's this other great lurdane knave been striking the poor rogues downright and left! A halter fits both.'
'My Lord, they are no subjects of England. I deny your rights overthem.'
'Whoever rides in my train is under me, I would have you to know, sir.'
'Hark ye, my Lord of Suffolk,' said Sir Patrick, coming near enoughto speak in an undertone, 'that lurdane, as you call him, is heir of anoble house in Scotland, come here on a young man's freak of chivalry.You will do no service to the peace of the realms if you give him up tothese churls, for making in to save his servant.'
Before Sir Patrick had done speaking, while Suffolk was frowning grimlyin perplexity, a wild figure, with blood on the face, rushed forth witha limping run, crying 'Let the loons hang me and welcome, if they setsuch store by their lean old gander, but they shanna lay a finger on theMaster.'
And he had nearly precipitated himself into the hands of the sturdyrustics, who shouted with exultation, but with two strides Geordiecaught him up. 'Peace, Ringan! They shall no more hang thee than me,'and he stood with one hand on Ringan's shoulder and his sword in theother, looking defiant.
'If he be a young gentleman masking, I am not bound to know it,' saidSuffolk impatiently to Drummond; 'but if he will give up that rascal,and make compensation, I will overlook it.'
'Who touches my fellow does so at his peril,' shouted George, menacingwith his sword.
'Peace, young man!' said Sir Patrick. 'Look here, my Lord of Suffolk,we Scots are none of your men. We need no favour of you English with ourallies. There be enough of us to make our way through these peasantsto the French border, so unless you let us settle the matter with a fewcrowns to these rascallions, we part company.'
'The ladies were entrusted to my charge,' began Lord Suffolk.
At that instant, however, both Jean and Eleanor came on the scene,riding fast, having in truth been summoned by Malcolm, who shrewdlysuspected that thus an outbreak might be best averted.
It was Eleanor who spoke first. In spite of all her shyness, when herblood was up, she was all the princess.
What is this, my Lord of Suffolk?' she said. 'If one of our followinghave transgressed, it is the part of ourselves and of Sir PatrickDrummond to see to it, as representing the King my brother.'
'Lady,' replied Suffolk, bowing low and doffing his cap, 'yonderill-nurtured knave hath been robbing the country-folk, and the--theman-at-arms there not only refuses to give him up to justice, but hashurt, well-nigh slain, some of them in violently taking him from them.They ride in my train and I am responsible.'
Jean broke in: 'He only served the cowardly loons right. A wholecrowd of the rogues to hang one poor laddie for one goose! Shame on agentleman for hearkening to the foul-mouthed villains one moment. Comehere, Ringan. King Jamie's sister will never see them harm thee.'
Perhaps Suffolk was not sorry to see a way out of the perplexity.'Far be it from a knight to refuse a boon to a fair lady in herselle, farther still to _two_ royal damsels. The lives are granted, sosatisfaction in coin be made to yon clamorous hinds.'
'I do not call it a boon but a right, said Eleanor gravely;'nevertheless I thank you, my Lord Marquis.'
George would have thrown himself at their feet, but Jean coldly said,'Spare thanks, sir. It was for my brother's right,' and she turned herhorse away, and rode off at speed, while Eleanor could not help pausingto say, 'She is more blithe than she lists to own! Sir Patrick, what thefellows claim must come from my uncle's travelling purse.'
George's face was red. This was very bitter to him, but he could onlysay, 'It shall be repaid so soon as I have the power.'
The peasants meanwhile were trying to make the best bargain they couldby representing that they were tenants of an abbey, so that the death ofthe gander was sacrilegious on that account as well as because it was inLent. To this, however, Sir Patrick turned a deaf ear: he threw thema couple of gold pieces, with which, as he told them, they were muchbetter off than with either the live goose or the dead Ringan.
Suffolk had halted for the mid-day rest and was waiting for him tillthis matter was disposed of. 'Sir Patrick Drummond,' he said with someceremony, 'this company of yours may be Scottish subjects, but whilethey are riding with me I am answerable for them. It may be the wont inScotland, but it is not with us English, to let unnamed adventurers rideunder our banner.'
'The young man is not unnamed,' said Sir Patrick, on his mettle.
'You know him?'
'I'll no say, but I have an inkling. My son David kenn'd him andanswered for him when he joined himself to my following; nor has hehitherto done aught to discredit himself.'
'What is his name, or the name he goes by?'
'George Douglas.'
'H'm! Your Scottish names may belong to any one, from your earls down toyour herdboys; and they, forsooth, are as like as not to call themselvesgentlemen.'
'And wherefore not, if theirs is gentle blood?' said Sir Patrick.
'Nay, now, Sir Patrick, stand not on your Scotch pride. Gentlemen all,if you will, but you gave me to understand that this was none of yourbarefoot gentlemen, and I ask if you can tell who he truly is?'
'I have never been told, my Lord, and I had rather you put the questionto himself than to me.'
'Call him then, an' so please you.'
Sir Patrick saw no alternative save compliance; and he found Ringanundergoing a severe rating, not unaccompanied by blows from the wood ofhis master's lance. The perfect willingness to die for one another wasa mere natural incident, but the having transgressed, and caused sucha serious scrape, made George very indignant and inflict condignpunishment. 'Better fed than he had ever been in his life, the rogue'(and he looked it, though he muttered, 'A bannock and a sup of barleybrose were worth the haill of their greasy beeves!'). 'Better fed thanever before. Couldn't the daft loon keep the hands of him off poorfolks' bit goose? In Lent, too!' (by far the gravest part of theoffence).
George did, however, transfer Ringan's explanation to Sir Patrick, andmake some apology. A nest of goose eggs apparently unowned had been toomuch for him, incited further by a couple of English horseboys, who werewilling to share goose eggs for supper, and let the Scotsman bear thewyte of it. The goose had been nearer than expected, and summoned herkin; the gander had shown fight; the geese had gabbled, the gooseherdand his kind came to the rescue, the horseboys had made off; Ringan,impeded by his struggle with the ferocious gander, was caught; andGeordie had come up just in time to see him pricked with goads and axesto a tree, where a halter was making ready for him. Of course, withoutasking questions, George hurried to save him, pushing his horse amongthe angry crew, and striking right and left, and equally of course theother Scots came to his assistance.
Sir Patrick agreed that he could not have done otherwise, though betterthings might have been hoped of Ringan by this time.
'But,' said he, 'there's not an end yet of the coil. Here has my Lordof Suffolk been speiring after your name a
nd quality, till I told him hemust ask at you and not at me.'
'Tell'd you the dour meddling Englishman my name?' asked George.
'I told him only what ye told me yerself. In that there was no lie.But bethink you, royal maidens dinna come to speak for lads without acause.'
George's colour mounted high in his sunburnt, freckled cheek.
'Kens--ken they, trow ye, Sir Pate?'
'Cannie folk, even lassies, can ken mair than they always tell,' saidthe knight of Glenuskie. 'Yonder is my Lord Marquis, as they ca' him; sobethink you weel how you comport yerself with him, and my counsel is totell him the full truth. He is a dour man towards underlings, whom heviews as made not of the same flesh and blood with himself, but he isthe very pink of courtesy to men of his own degree.'
'Set him up,' quoth the heir of the Douglas, with a snort. 'His owndegree, indeed! scarce even a knight's son!'
'What he deems his own degree, then,' corrected Sir Patrick; 'but heholds himself full of chivalry to them, and loves a spice of the errantknight; ye may trust his honour. And mind ye,' he added, laughing, 'I'venever been told your name and quality.'
Which the Master of Angus returned with an equally canny laugh. Theyoung man, as he approached the Marquis, drew his head up, straightenedhis tall form, brushed off the dust that obscured the bloody heart onhis breast, and altogether advanced with a step and bearing farmore like the great Earl's son than the man-at-arms of the Glenuskiefollowing; his eyes bespoke equality or more as they met those ofWilliam de la Pole, and yet there was that in the glance which forbadethe idea of insolence, so that Suffolk, instead of remaining seated roseto meet him and took him aside, standing as they talked.
'Sir Squire,' he said, 'for such I understand your degree in chivalry tobe.'
'I have not won my spurs,' said George.
'It is not our rule to take to foreign courts gentlemen from anotherrealm unknown to us,' proceeded Suffolk, with much civility; 'therefore,unless any vow of chivalry binds you, I should be glad to know who it iswho does my banner the honour of riding in its company for a time. If asecret, it is safe with me.'
George gave his name.
'That is the name of one of the chief nobles in Scotland,' said Suffolk.'Do I see before me his son?' George bowed.
'Then, my Lord Douglas, am I permitted to ask wherefore this meandisguise? Is it for some vow of chivalry, or for that which is theguerdon of chivalry?' the Marquis added in a lower, softer tone, which,however, extremely chafed the proud young Scot, all the more that hefelt himself blushing.
'My Lord,' he said, 'I am not bound to render a reason to any save myfather, from whom I hope for letters shortly.'
To his further provocation Suffolk smiled meaningly, and answered--
'I understand. But if my Lord Douglas would honour my suite by assumingthe place that befits him, I should be happy that aught of mine shouldserve--'
'I am beholden to you, my Lord, for the offer,' replied George, somewhatroughly. 'Whatever I make use of must be my father's or my own. All Icrave of you is to keep my secret, and not make me the common talk.Have I your licence to depart?'
Wherewith, tall, irate, and shamefaced, the Master of Angus stalked awayto meet David Drummond, to whom he confided his disgusts.
'The parlous fulebody! As though I were like to make myself a mere sportfor ballad-mongers, such as Lady Elleen is always mooning after; or asif I would stoop to borrow a following of the English blackguard, tobolster up my state like King Herod in a mystery play. If my fatherlists, he may send me out a band, but the Douglas shall have Douglas'smen, or none at all.'
David approved the sentiment, but added--
'Ye could win to Jeanie if ye took your right place.'
'What good would that do me while she is full of her fine daffing,singing, clacking, English knights, that would only gibe at thered-haired Scot? Let her wait to see what the Red Douglas's hand can doin time of need! But, Davie, you that can speak to her, let her know howdeeply I thank her for what she did even now on my behalf, or rather onpuir Ringan's, and that I am trebly bound to her service though I makeno minstrel fule's work.'
David delivered his message, but did not obtain much by it for hisfriend's satisfaction, for Jeanie only tossed her head and answered--
'Does the gallant cock up his bonnet because he thinks it was for hissake. It was Elleen's doing there, firstly; and next, wadna we have donethe like for the meanest of Jamie's subjects?'
'Dinna credit her, Davie,' said Eleanor. 'Ye should have seen her startin her saddle, and wheel round her palfrey at Malcolm's first word.'
'It wasna for him,' replied Jean hotly. 'They dinna hang the like of himfor twisting a goose's neck; it was for the puir leal laddie; and ye maytak' that to him.'
'Shall I, Elleen?' asked David, with a twinkle in his eye of cousinlyteasing.
'An' ye do not, I shall proclaim ye in the lists at Nanci as a corbiemessenger and mansworn squire, unworthy of your spurs,' threatenedJeanie, in all good humour however.
Suffolk, baffled in his desire to patronise the young Master of Angus,examined both Sir Patrick and Lady Drummond as far as their cautionwould allow, telling that the youth had confessed his rank and admittedthe cause--making inquiry whether the match would be held suitable inScotland, and why it had not taken place there--a matter difficultto explain, since it did not merely turn upon the young lady'sambition--which would have gone for nothing--but on the danger to theCrown of offending rival houses. Suffolk had a good deal about him ofthe flashy side of chivalry, and loved its brilliance and romance; hewas an honourable man, and the weak point about him was that he neverunderstood that knighthood should respect men of meaner birth. He wasgreatly flattered by the idea of having the eldest son of the great Earlof Angus riding as an unknown man-at-arms in his troop, and on the waylikewise to the most chivalrous of kings. His scheme would have been toequip the youth fully with horse and arms, and at some brilliant tourneysee him carry all before him, like Du Gueselin in his boyhood, and thatthe eclat of the affair should reflect itself upon his sponsor. Butthere were two difficulties in the way--the first that the proud youngScot showed no intention of being beholden to any Englishman, andsecondly, that the tall, ungainly youth did not look as if he hadattained to the full strength or management of his own limbs; and thoughin five or ten years' time he might be a giant in actual warfare, he didnot appear at all likely to be a match for the highly-trained championsof the tilt-yard. Moreover, he was not a knight as yet, and on soundingSir Patrick it was elicited that he was likely to deem it high treasonto be dubbed by any hand save that of his King or his father.
So the Marquis could only feel sagacious, and utter a hint or twobefore the ladies which fell the more short, since he was persuaded,by Eleanor's having been the foremost in the defence, that she was theobject of the quest; and he now and then treated her to hints whichshe was slow to understand, but which exasperated while they amused hersister.
The journey was so slow that it was not until the fourth week in Lentthat they were fairly in Lorraine. It had of course been announced bycouriers, and at Thionville a very splendid herald reached them, coveredall over with the blazonry of Jerusalem and the Two Sicilies, to saynothing of Provence and Anjou. He brought letters from King Rene,explaining that he and his daughters were en route from Provence, andhe therefore designated a nunnery where he requested that the Scottishprincesses and their ladies would deign to be entertained, and amonastery where my Lord Marquis of Suffolk and his suite would bewelcomed, and where they were requested to remain till Easter week, bywhich time the King of France, the Dauphin, and Dauphiness would be nearat hand, and there could be a grand entrance into Nanci. Of course therewas nothing to be done but to obey though the Englishmen muttered thatthe delay was in order to cast the expense upon the rich abbeys, and tomuster all the resources of Lorraine and Provence to cover the povertyof the many-titled King.
The Abbey where the gentlemen were lodged was so near Nanci that it waseasy to ride into t
he city and make inquiries whether any tidings hadarrived from Scotland; but nothing had come from thence for either theprincesses, Sir Patrick, or Geordie of the Red Peel, so that the strangesituation of the latter must needs continue as long as he insisted onbeing beholden for nothing to the English upstart, as he scrupled notto call Lord Suffolk, whose new-fashioned French title was an offence inScottish ears.
The ladies on their side had not the relaxation of these expeditions.The Abbey was a large and wealthy one, but decidedly provincial. Onlythe Lady Abbess and one sister could speak 'French of Paris,' theothers used a dialect so nearly German that Lady Suffolk could barelyunderstand them, and the other ladies, whose French was not strong,could hold no conversation with them.
To insular minds, whether Scottish or English, every deviation of theGallican ritual from their own was a sore vexation. If Lady Drummond haddevotion enough not to be distracted by the variations, the young ladiescertainly had not, and Jean very decidedly giggled during some of themost solemn ceremonies, such as the creeping to the cross--the largecarved cross in the middle of the graveyard, to which all in turn wentupon their knees on Good Friday and kissed it.
Last year, at this season, they had been shut up in their prison-castle,and had not shared in any of these ceremonies; and Eleanor tried tothink of King Henry and Sister Esclairmonde, and how they were throwingtheir hearts into the great thoughts of the day, and she felt distressedat being infected by Jean's suppressed laughter at the movements of thefat Abbess, and at the extraordinary noises made by the younger nunswith clappers, as demonstrations against Judas on the way to the EasterSepulchre.
She was so much shocked at herself that she wanted to confess; butFather Romuald had gone with the male members of the party, andthe chaplain did not half understand her French, though he gave herabsolution.
Meantime all the nuns were preparing Easter eggs, whereof there wasa great exchange the next day, when the mass was as splendid as theresources of the Abbey could furnish, and all were full of joy andcongratulation, the sense of oneness for once inspiring all.
Moreover, after mass, Sir Patrick and an Englishman rode over withtidings that King Rene had sent a messenger, who was on the Tuesday toguide them all to a glade where the King hoped to welcome the ladiesas befitted their rank and beauty, and likewise to meet the royaltravellers from Bourges, so that all might make their entry into Nancitogether.
The King himself, it was reported, did nothing but ride backwards andforwards between Nanci and the convent where he had halted, arrangingthe details of the procession, and of the open-air feast at therendezvous upon the way.
'I hope,' said Lady Suffolk, 'that King Rene's confections will not beas full of rancid oil as those of the good sisters. I know not whichwas more distasteful--their Lenten Fast or their Easter Feast. We have,certes, done our penance this Lent!'
To which the rest of the ladies could not but agree, though LadyDrummond felt it somewhat treasonable to the good nuns, theirentertainers; and both she and Eleanor recollected how differentlyEsclairmonde would have felt the matter, and how little these matters ofdaily fare would have concerned her.
'To-day we shall see her!' exclaimed Eleanor, springing to the floor,as, early on a fine spring morning, the ladies in the guest-chamber ofthe nunnery began to bestir themselves at the sound of one of the manyconvent bells. 'They are at Toul, and we shall meet this afternoon. Ihave not slept all night for thinking of it.'
'No, and hardly let me sleep,' said Jean, slowly sitting up in bed.'Thou hast waked me so often that I shall be pale and heavy-eyed for thepageant.'
'Little fear of that, my bonnie bell,' said old Christie, laughing.
'Besides,' said Eleanor, 'nobody will fash themselves to look at us inthe midst of the pageant. There will be the King to see, and the bride.Oh, I wish we were not to ride in it, and could see it instead at ourease.'
'Thou wast never meant for a princess,' said Jean; 'Christie, Annis, forpity's sake, see till her. She is busking up her hair just as was gudeenough for the old nuns, but no for kings and queens.'
'I hate the horned cap, in which I feel like a cow, and methought Megwad feel the snood a sight for sair een,' said Eleanor.
'Meg indeed! Thou must frame thy tongue to Madame la Dauphine.'
'Before the lave of them, but not with sweet Meg herself.'
'Our sister behoves to have learnt what suits her station, and winnabide sic ways from an ower forward sister. Dinna put us all to shame,and make the folk trow we came from some selvage land,' said Jean,tossing her head.
'Hast ever seen me carry myself unworthy of King James's daughter?'proudly demanded Eleanor.
'Nay, now, bairnies, fash not yoursells that gate,' interfered oldChristie; 'nae fear but Lady Elleen will be douce and canny enow whenfolks are there to see. She kens what fits a king's daughter.'
Jean made a little hesitation over kirtles and hoods, but fortunatelyladies, however royal, had no objection to wearing the same robes twice,and both she and her sister were objects to delight the eyes of thecrowding and admiring nuns when they mounted their palfreys in thequadrangle, and, attended by the Lady of Glenuskie and her daughter,rode forth with the Marchioness of Suffolk at the great gateway to jointhe cavalcade, headed by Suffolk and Sir Patrick.
After about two miles' riding on a woodland road they became aware offitful strains of music and a continuous hum of voices, heard throughthe trees and presently a really beautiful scene opened before them, asthe trees seemed to retreat, so as to unfold a wide level space, furtherenclosed by brilliant tapestry hangings, their scarlet, blue, gold andsilver hues glittering in an April sun, and the fastenings concealed bygarlands of spring flowers. An awning of rich gold embroidery on a greenground was spread so as to shelter a cloth glittering with plate andbestrewn with flowers; horses, in all varieties of ornamental housings,were being led about; there was a semicircle of musicians in the rear;and, as soon as the guests came in sight, there came forward, doffinghis embroidered and jewelled cap, a gentleman of middle stature andof exceeding grace and courtesy, whose demeanour, no less than theattendance around him, left no doubt that this was no other than Rene,Duke of Anjou and of Lorraine, Count of Provence, and King of the TwoSicilies and of Jerusalem.
'Welcome,' he exclaimed in French, 'welcome, fair and royal maidens;welcome, noble lord, the representative of our dear brother and son ofEngland. Deign on your journey to partake of the humble and rural fareof the poor minstrel shepherd.'
Wherewith the music broke out in strains of welcome from the grove, withvoices betweenwhiles Rene himself assisted each princess to dismount,and respectfully kissed her on the cheek as she stood on the ground.Then, taking a hand of each, he led them to a great chestnut tree, theshade of whose branches was assisted by hangings of blue embroideredwith white, beneath which cushions, mantles, and seats were spread, anda bevy of ladies in bright garments stood. From these came forward twobeautiful young girls, with fair complexions and flowing golden hair,scarcely confined by the bands whence transparent veils descended. KingRene presented them as his two daughters, Yolande and Margaret, to thetwo Scottish maidens, and there were kindly as well as courtly embraceson either side. The Lady of Glenuskie, as a king's grand-daughter, withAnnis and Lady Suffolk, had likewise been led up to take their places;the four royal maidens were seated together. Yolande, the most regularlybeautiful, but with an anxious look on her face, talked to Eleanorof her journey; Margaret, who had one of those very simple,innocent-looking child-faces that sometimes form the mask of immenseenergy of character, was more absent and inattentive to her dutiesas hostess; moreover, she and Jean did not understand one another'slanguage so well as did the other two. Delicate little cakes, and tallVenice glasses, spirally ornamented, and containing light wines, wereserved to them on the knee by a tall, large, fair-haired youth, who wasnamed to them as the Duke Sigismund, of Alsace and the Tyrol.
Jean had time to look about, and heartily wish that her beautiful flaxenhair was loose, and not encumb
ered with the rolled headgear with twoprojecting horns, against which Elleen had rebelled; since York and evenLondon were evidently behind the fashion. Margaret's hair was bound witha broad band of daisies, and Yolande's with violets, both in allusionto their names, Yolande being the French corruption of Violante, herProvencal name, in allusion to the golden violet. Jean thought of theScottish thistle, and studied the dresses, tight-fitting 'cotte hardis'of bright, deep, soft, rose colour, edged with white fur, and whiteskirts embroidered with their appropriate flowers. She wondered how soonthis could be imitated, casting a few glances at Duke Sigismund,who stood waiting, as if desirous of attracting Yolande's attention.Eleanor, on the other hand, even while answering Yolande, had a feelingas if she had arrived at the completion of the very vision which she hadimagined on the dreary tower of Dunbar. Here was the warm spring sun,shining on a scene of unequalled beauty and brilliancy, set in thespring foliage and blossom, whence, as if to rival the human performers,gushes of nightingales' song came in every interval. Hearing Eleanor'seager question whether that were the nightingale whose liquid trillingsshe heard, King Rene realised that the Scottish maidens knew not thenote, and signed to the minstrels to cease for a time, then came and saton a cushion beside the young lady, and enjoyed her admiration.
'Ah!' she said, 'that is the king of the minstrel birds.'
He smiled. 'The royal lady then has her orders and ranks for the birds.'
'Oh yes. If the royal eagle is the king, and the falcon is the trueknight, the nightingale and mavis, merle and lark, are the minstrels.And the lovely seagull, oh, how call you it?--with the long whitefloating wings rising and falling, is the graceful dancer.'
'Guifette,' Rene gave the word, 'or in Provence, Rondinel dellamar--hirondelle de la mer!'
'Swallow! Ah, the pilgrim birds, who visit the Holy Land.'
'Lady, you should be of our court of the troubadours,' said Rene; 'yourwords should be a poem.'
He was called away at the moment, and craved her licence so politelythat the chivalrous minstrel king seemed to Elleen all she had dreamtof. The whole was perfect, nothing wanting save that for which herheart was all the time beating high, the presence of her belovedsister Margaret. It was as if a scene out of a romance of fairylandhad suddenly taken reality, and she more than once closed her eyes andsqueezed her hands to try whether she was awake.
A fanfaron of trumpets came on the wind, and all were on the alert,while Eleanor's heart throbbed so that she could hardly stand, andcaught at Margaret's arm, as she murmured with a gasp, 'My sister! Mysister!'
'Ah! you are happy to meet once more,' said Margaret. 'The saints onlyknow whether Yolande and I shall ever see one another's faces again whenonce I am carried away to your dreary England.'
'England is not mine, lady,' said Eleanor, rather sharply. 'We reckonthe English as our bitterest foes.'
'You have come with an Englishman though,' said Margaret, 'whom I am totake for my husband,' and she laughed a gay innocent laugh. A grizzledold knight, whom I am not like to mistake for my true spouse. Have youseen him? What like is he?'
'The gentlest and sweetest of kings,' returned Eleanor; 'as fond of allthat is good and fair and holy as is your own royal father.'
Margaret coughed a little. 'My husband should be a gallant warlikeknight,' she said, 'such as was this king's father.'
'Oh, see! cried Eleanor. 'I saw the glitter of the spears through thetrees. There's another blast of the trumpets! Oh! oh! it is a gallantsight! If only Jamie, my little brother, could see it! It stirs one'sblood.'
'Ah yes, Elleen,' cried Jean. 'This is something to have come for.'
'And Margaret, sweet Madge,' repeated Eleanor to herself, in her nativeScotch, while King Rene's trumpets, harps, and hautbois burst forth withan answering peal, so exciting her that her yellow-brown eyes sparkledand the colour rose in her cheeks, giving her a strange beauty full ofeager spirit. Duke Sigismund turned and gazed at her in surprise, and anold herald who was waiting near observed, 'Is that the daughter of thecaptive King of Scotland? She has his very countenance and bearing.'
The trumpeters and other attendants, bearing the blue-lilied banner ofFrance, appeared among the trees, and dividing, formed a lane for theadvance of the royal personages. King Rene went forward to meet them,foremost, so as to be ready to hold the stirrup for his sister the Queenof France. Duke Sigismund seemed about to give his hand to the InfantaViolante, as the Provencaux called Yolande, but she was beforehand withhim, linking her arm into Jean's, while Margaret took Eleanor's, andsaid in her ear, 'The great awkward German! He is come here to pay hiscourt to Yolande, but she will none of him. She has better hopes.'
Eleanor hardly attended, for her whole soul was bent on the partyarriving. King Charles, riding on a handsome bay horse, closely followedby a conveyance such as was called in England a whirlicote, from whichthe Queen was handed out by her brother, and then, on a sorrel palfrey,in a blue gold-embroidered riding-suit--could that be Margaret ofScotland? The long reddish-yellow hair and the tall figure had afamiliar look. King Rene was telling her something as he helped her toalight, and with one spring, regardless of all, and of all ceremony,she sprang forward. 'My wee Jeanie! My Elleen! My titties! Mine ain weethings,' she cried in her native tongue, as she embraced them by turns,as if she would have devoured them, with a gush of tears.
Though these were times of great state and ceremony, yet they were alsovery demonstrative times, when tears and embracings were expected ofnear kindred; and, indeed, the King and Queen were equally occupiedwith their brother and nieces; but presently Eleanor heard a low voiceobserve, with a sort of sarcastic twang, 'If Madame has sufficientlysatiated her tenderness, perhaps she will remember the due of others.'Margaret started as if stung, and Eleanor, looking up, beheld a face,young but sharp, and with a keen, hard, set look in the narrow eyes,contracted brow, and thin lips, that made her feel as though the serpenthad found his way into her paradise. Hastily turning, Margaret presentedher sisters to her husband, who bowed, and kissed each with thosestrange thin lips, that again made Eleanor shudder, perhaps because ofhis compliment, 'We are graced by these ladies, in whom we have anotherMadame la Dauphine, as well as an errant beauty.'
Jean appropriated the last words, but Elleen felt sure that the earlierones were ironical, both to her and to the Dauphiness, on whose cheeksthey brought a flush. The two kings, however, turned to receive thesisters, and nothing could be kinder than the tone of King Charles andQueen Marie towards the sisters of their good daughter, as they termedthe Dauphiness, who on her side was welcomed by Rene as the sweet niece,sharer of his tastes, who brought minstrelsy and poetry in her train.
'Trust her for that, my fair uncle,' said her husband in a cold, drytone.
All the royal personages sat down on the cushions spread on the grassto the 'rural fare,' as King Rene called it, which he had elaboratelyprepared for them, while the music sounded from the trees in welcome.
All was, as the kind prince announced, without ceremony, and he placedLord Suffolk, as the representative of Henry VI., next to the youngInfanta Margaret, and contrived that the Dauphiness should sit betweenher two sisters, whose hands she clasped from time to time within herown in an ecstasy of delight, while inquiries came from time to time,low breathed in her native tongue, for wee Mary and Jamie and babyAnnaple. 'The very sound of your tongues is music to my lugs,' she said.'And how much mair when ye speak mine ain bonnie Scotch, sic as I neverhear save by times when one archer calls to another. Jeanie, you favourour mother. 'Tis gude for ye! I am blithe one of ye is na like puirMarget!'
'Dinna say that,' cried Jean, in an access of feeling. ''Tis hame, andit's hame to see sic a sonsie Scots face--and it minds me of my blessedfather.'
It was true that Margaret and Eleanor both were thorough Scotswomen, andwith the expressive features, the auburn colouring, and tall figures oftheir father; but there was for the rest a melancholy contrast betweenthem, for while Elleen had the eager, hopeful, lively healthfulness ofearly
youth, giving a glow to her countenance and animation to the lithebut scarcely-formed figure, Margaret, with the same original mould,had the pallor and puffiness of ill-health in her complexion, and alargeness of growth more unsatisfactory than leanness, and though herface was lighted up and her eyes sparkled with the joy of meeting hersisters, there were lines about the brow and round the mouth ill suitedto her age, which was little over twenty years.