CHAPTER XXVII
A MAID OF FRANCE
"The Duke of Friedwald!"
It was not the princess who thus exclaimed, but Jacqueline. Charleshad spoken loudly, and, drawn irresistibly to the scene, she had caughthis significant words at the moment she recognized, in his braveaccoutrements, him whom she had known as the duke's fool.
When she had heard, above the din of the fray, the cries with which thenew-comer had been greeted, no suspicion of his identity had crossedher mind. She had wondered, been puzzled at the unexpected appearanceof Robert, Duke of Friedwald, but that he and the ailing fool were oneand the same was wide from her field of speculation. In amazement, sheregarded the knight who had turned the tide of conflict, and thenstarted, noticing the colors he wore, a paltry yellow ribbon on hisarm, the badge of her office. Much she had not understood now appearedplain. His assurance in Fools' hall; his reckless daring; his skillwith the sword. He was a soldier, not a jester; a lord, not a lord'sservant.
Lost in no less wonder, the princess gazed from the free baron toCharles, and back again to the lifeless form. Stooping, she lookedsteadfastly into the face, as though she would read its secret.Perhaps, too, as she studied those features, piece by piece she patchedtogether the scenes of the past. Her own countenance began to harden,as though some part of that mask of death had fallen upon her, and whenshe glanced once more at the emperor they saw she no longer doubted.With forced self-control, she turned to the emperor.
"Doubtless, it is some brave pastime," she said to Charles. "Will yourMajesty deign to explain?"
"Nay," answered the emperor, dryly; "that thankless task I'll leave tohim who played the fool."
Uncovering, the Duke of Friedwald approached. The excitement of thecontest over, his pallid features marked the effects of his recentinjuries, the physical strain under which he had labored. Her coldeyes swept over him haughtily, inquiringly.
"For the part I have played, Madam," he said, "I ask your forbearance.If we both labored under a delusion, I have only regret--"
"Regret!" Was it an outburst of grief, or wounded pride? He flushed,but continued firmly:
"Madame la Princesse, when first a marriage was proposed between us Iwas younger in experience if not in years than I am now; more used tothe bivouac or hunters' camps than courts. And woman--" hesmiled--"well, she was a vague ideal. At times, she came to me whensleeping before the huntsman's fire in the solitudes of the forest;again, was reflected from the pages of classic lore. She seemed a partof the woods and the streams, for by ancient art had she not beenturned into trees and running brooks? So she whispered in the boughsand murmured among the rushes. Mere _Schwaermerei_. Do you care tohear? 'Tis the only defense I can offer."
Her contemptuous blue eyes remained fastened on him; she disdained toanswer.
"It was a dreamer from brake and copse who went in the disguise of ajester to be near her; to win her for himself--and then, declare hisidentity. Well may you look scornful. Love!--it is not such aromantic quality--at court. A momentary pastime, perhaps, but--a deeppassion--a passion stronger than rank, than death, than all--"
Above the face of her whom he addressed his glance rested uponJacqueline, and he paused. The princess could but note, and a derisiveexpression crept about her mouth.
"Once I would have told you all," he resumed. "That night--when youwere Lady of the Lists. But--"
He broke off abruptly, wishing to spare her the bitter memory of herown acts. Did she remember that day, when she had been queen of thechaplet? When she had crowned him whom now death and dishonor hadovertaken?
"The rest, Madam, you know--save this." And stooping, he picked up theornament that had dropped from Louis of Hochfels' neck. "Here,Princess, is the miniature you sent me. He, who used you so ill, stoleit from me in prison; through it, he recognized the fool for the duke;with an assassin's blow he struck me down."
A moment he looked at that fair painted semblance. Did it recall thepast too vividly? His face showed no pain; only tranquillity. His eyewas rather that of a connoisseur than a lover. He smiled gently; thenheld it to her.
Mechanically she let the portrait slip through her fingers, and it fellto the moistened grass near the form of him who had wedded her. Thenshe drew back her dress so that it might not touch the body at her feet.
"Have I your Majesty's permission to withdraw?" she said, coldly.
"If you will not accept our poor escort to the king," answered Charles.
"My ladies and myself will dispense with so much honor, Sire," shereturned.
"Such service as we can command is at your disposal, Madam," herepeated.
"It is not far distant to the chateau, Sire."
"As you will," said the emperor.
With no further word she bowed deeply, turned, and slowly retracing hersteps, mounted her horse, and rode away, followed by her maids and thetroopers of France.
As she disappeared, without one backward glance, the duke gazed quicklytoward the spot where Jacqueline had been standing. He remembered theyoung girl had heard his story; he had caught her eyes upon him whilehe was telling it; very deep, serious, judicial, they seemed. Werethey weighing his past infatuation for the princess; holding the scalesto his acts? Swiftly he turned to her now, but she had vanished. Savefor rough nurses, companions in arms, moving here and there among thewounded, he and the emperor stood alone. In the bushes a bird whichhad left a nest of fledglings returned and caroled among the boughs; aclarifying melody after the mad passions of the day. The elder mannoted the direction of the duke's glance, the yellow ribbon on his arm.
"So it was a jestress, not a princess you found, thou dreamer," hesaid, half-ironically.
"The daughter of the Constable of Dubrois, Sire," was the reply.
The emperor nodded. "The family colors have changed," he observeddryly.
"With fortune, Sire."
"Truly," said Charles, "fortune is a jestress. She had like to play onus this day. But your fever?" he added, abruptly, setting his horse'shead toward camp.
"Is gone, Sire," answered the duke, riding by his side.
"And your injuries?"
"Were so slight they are forgotten."
"Then is the breath of battle better medicine than nostrum or salve.In youth, 'tis the sword-point; in age, turn we to the hilt-cross. Butthis maid--have you won her?"
The young man changed color. "Won her, Sire?" he replied. "That Iknow not--no word has passed--"
"No word," said the emperor, doubtingly. "A knight-errant and acastleless maid!"
The duke vouchsafed no answer.
"Humph!" added Charles. "Thus do our plans come to naught. If you gother, and wore her, what end would be served?"
"No end of state, perhaps, Sire."
"Why," observed the monarch, "the state and the faith--what else isthere? But go your way. How smooth it may be no man can tell."
"Is the road like to be rougher than it has been, Sire?"
"The maid belongs to France," answered Charles, "and France belongs tothe king."
"The king!" exclaimed the duke, fiercely.
Involuntarily had they drawn rein in the shade of a tiny thicketoverlooking the valley. Even from this slight exercise, bowed andweary appeared the emperor's form. The hand which controlled his steedtrembled, but the lines of his face spoke of unweakened sinew ofspirit, the iron grip of a will that only death might loosen.
"The king!" repeated the young man. "He is no king of mine, nor hers.To you, Sire, only, I owe allegiance, or my life, at your need."
A gentler expression softened the emperor's features, as a gleam ofsunshine forces itself into the somberest forest depths.
"We have had our need," he said. "Not long since."
His glance swept the outlook below. "Heaven watches over monarchs," headded, turning a keen, satirical look on the other, "but through thevigilance of our earthly servitors."
The duke's response was interrupted by t
he appearance below of ahorseman, covered with dust, riding toward them, and urging his wearysteed up the incline with spur and voice. Deliberately the monarchsurveyed the new-comer.
"What make you of yonder fellow?" he said. "He is not of the guard,nor of the bastard's following."
"His housings are the color of France, Sire."
"Then can I make a shrewd guess of his purpose," observed the monarch.
As he spoke the horseman drew nearer and a moment later had stoppedbefore the emperor.
"A message from the king, Sire!" exclaimed the man, dismounting andkneeling to present a formidable-looking document, with a great disk oflead through which a silken string was drawn.
Breaking the seal, the emperor opened the missive. "It is well," hesaid at length, folding the parchment. "The king was even on his wayto the chateau to await our coming, when he met Caillette and receivedour communication. Go you to the camp"--to the messenger--"where weshall presently return." And as the man rode away: "The king begs wewill continue our journey at our leisure," he added, "and announces hewill receive us at the chateau."
"And have I your permission to return to Friedwald, Sire?" asked theother in a low voice.
"Alone?"
"Nay; I would conduct the constable's daughter there to safety."
"And thus needlessly court Francis' resentment? Not yet."
The young man said no word, but his face hardened.
"Tut!" said the emperor, dryly, although not unkindly. "Where's fealtynow? Fine words; fine words! A slender chit of a maid, forsooth.Without lands, without dowry; with naught--save herself."
"Is she not enough, Sire?"
"Francis is more easily disarmed in his own castle by his ownhospitality than in the battle-field," observed Charles, withoutreplying to this question. "In field have we conquered him; in palacehath he conquered himself, and our friendship. Therefore you and themaid return in our train to the king's court."
"At your order, Sire."
But the young man's voice was cold, ominous.