CHAPTER VI
THE ARRIVAL OF THE DUKE
Proficient as a poet, bold as a soldier, adroit as a statesman, theking was, nevertheless, most fitted for the convivial role of host, andno part that he played in his varied repertoire afforded suchopportunity for the nice display of his unusual talents. History hathsneered at his rhymes as flat, stale and unprofitable; upon the bloodyfield he had been defeated and subsequently imprisoned; clever indiplomacy, the sagacity of his opponent, Charles, had in truthovermatched him; yet as the ostentatious Boniface, in grand bib andtucker, prodigal in joviality and good-fellowship, his reputation restswithout a flaw.
In anticipation of the arrival of the duke and his suite, the monarchhad ordered a series of festivities and entertainments such as wouldgratify his desire for pageantry and display, and at the same time dohonor to a guest who was to espouse one of France's fairest wards. Tothe castle repaired tailors, embroiderers and goldsmiths to make anddevise garments for knights, ladies, lords and esquires and for thetrapping, decking and adorning of coursers, jennets and palfries.Bales of silks and satins had been long since conveyed thither fromdistant Paris, in anticipation of the coming marriage; and the oldNorman castle that had once resounded with the clashing of arms, thesnap of the cross-bow and the clang of the catapult now echoed with themerry stir and flurry of peace; a bee-hive of activity wherein were nodrones; marshal, grand master, chancellor and grand chamberlainpreparing for mysteries and hunting parties; dowagers, matrons andmaids making ready for balls and other pastimes.
With this new influx of population to the pleasure palace came aplentiful sprinkling of wayside minstrels, jugglers, mountebanks,dulcimer and lute players, street poets who sang the praises of somefair cobbleress or pretty sausage girl; scamps of students from theParis haunts of vice, loose fellows who conned the classical poets byday and took a purse by night; dancers, dwarfs, and merry men all, notaverse to--
"Haunch and ham, and cheek and chine While they gurgled their throats with right good wine."
Here sauntered a wit-cracker, a peacock feather in his hand, arm-in-armwith an impoverished "banquet beagle," or "feast hound;" there passed ajack in green, a bladder under his arm and a tankard at his belt, withwhich latter he begged that sort of alms that flows from a spigot. Asvagrant followers hover on the verge of a camp, or watchful vulturescircle around their prey, so these lower parasites (distinct from theother well-born, more aristocratic genus of smell-feast) prowledvigilantly without the castle walls and beyond the limits of the royalpleasure grounds, finding occasional employment from lackey, valet orequerry, who, imitating their betters, amused themselves betimes withsome low buffoon or vulgar clown and rewarded him for his gross storiesand antics with a crust and a cup.
Faith, in those thrice happy days, every henchman could whistle to himhis shabby poet, and every ostler hold court in the stable, with a_visdase_, or ass face, to keep the audience in a roar, and animble-footed trull to set them into ecstasies. But woe betide thehonest wayfarer who strolled beyond the orderly precincts of the king'swalls after dusk; for if some street coxcomb was too drunk to rob him,or a ribald Latin scholar saw him not, he surely ran into a nest ofpavement tumblers or cellar poets who forthwith stripped him and turnedhim loose in the all-insufficient garb of nature.
A fantastic, waggish crew--yet Francis minded them not, so long as theyobserved sufficient etiquette to keep their distance from his royalperson and immediate following. This nice decorum, however, be itsaid, was an unwritten law with these waifs and scatterlings, knowingthe merry monarch who tolerated them afar would feel no compunction athanging them severally, or in squads, from the convenient branches ofthe trees surrounding the castle, should the humor seize him that suchsummary chastisement were best for their morals and the welfare of thecommunity. Thus, though bold, were they also shy, drinking humbly froma black-jack quart in the kitchen and vanishing docilely enough whenthe sovereign cook bid them be gone with warm words or by flinging overthem ladles of hot soup.
One bright morning, like rabbits peeping from their holes when theyhear the footfall of the hunter, these field ramblers and waysideperegrinators were all agog, emerging from grassy cover and thicketretreat, to gaze open-mouthed after a gay cavalcade that issued fromthe castle gate, and rode southward with waving banner and piercingtrumpet note.
"The king, knaves!" cried a grimy estray with bells upon his personthat jingled like those of a Jewish high priest, to a group of playersand gamesters. "Already my mouth waters at the thoughts of the weddingfeast, and the scraps and bones that will be thrown away. There Iwarrant you we'll all find hearty cheer."
"Why are fools ever welcome at a wedding?" asked a singing scholar.
"Because there are two in the ceremony, and the rest make the chorus,"answered a philandering mime.
"And our merry monarch goeth down the road to meet one of the two,"said a close-cropped rogue.
"Well, he's a brave knight to come so far to yield himself captive--toa woman," returned the student. "As Horace saith--"
"Thou calumniator! shrimp of a man!" exclaimed a dark-browed drabdressed like a gipsy, seizing the scholar's short doublet. "An I getat you--"
"Take the garment, you harridan, not the man," he retorted, slippingdeftly out of the jerkin and dancing away to a safe distance.
"Ha! there's wedded bliss for you!" laughed a man in Franciscan attire,a rough rascal disguised as one of those priests called "God's fools"or "Christ's fools." "A week ago, when I married them, they werebilling and cooing. But to your holes, children! When the kingreturns he would not have his guest gaze upon such scarecrows andtrollops. Disperse, and Beelzebub take you!" And as the groupscattered the sound of beating horses' hoofs died away in the distance.
Francis was unusually good-humored that day. Apprised by a herald thatthe duke and his followers were nearing the castle, he had sent themessenger back announcing a trysting-place, and now rode forth to meethis guest and escort him with honor to the castle. Upon a noble steed,black as night, the monarch sat; the saddle and trappings crimson incolor; the stirrup and bit, of gold; a jaunty plume of white ostrichfeathers waving above the jetty mane. The costume of the king'sstalwart figure displayed a splendid suit of plate armor, enriched withchased work and ornament in gold, his appearance in keeping with hischaracter of monarch and knight who sought to revive the spirit ofchivalry at a period when the practical modern tendencies seriouslythreatened to undermine the practices and traditions of a once-exalted,but now fast-failing, institution for the regulation of morals andconduct.
By his side, less radiant only in comparison with the august monarch,rode the rank and quality of the realm, with silver and spangles, andfluttering plumes, scabbards gleaming with jewels, and girdles adornedwith rich settings. Furiously galloping behind came an attenuatedsnow-white charger, bearing the hunchback. A bladder dangling over hisshoulder, his bagpipe hanging from his waist, Triboulet bobbedfrantically up and down, clinging desperately to the saddle or windinghis legs about the charger's neck to preserve his equilibrium.
"You would better jog along more quietly, fool," observed a courtier,warningly, "or you will suffer for it."
"Alas, sir," replied Triboulet, "I stick my spurs into my horse to keephim quiet, but the more I prick him the more unruly I find theobstinate beast."
The king, who heard, laughed, and the dwarf's heart immediatelyexpanded, auguring he should soon be restored to the monarch's favor;for since the night the buffoon had failed to answer the duke's jesterin Fools' hall Francis had received Triboulet's advances and smallpleasantries with terrifying coldness. In fact, the dwarf had neverpassed such an uncomfortable period during his career, save on onememorable occasion when a band of mischievous pages had set upon him,carried him to the scaffold and nailed his enormous ears to the beam.Now, reassured, burning with delight, the jester spurred presumptuouslyforward, no longer feeling bound to lag in the rear.
"Go back!" cried an angry knight. "I can not bear
a fool on my right."
Triboulet reined in his horse, but pushed ahead on the other side ofthe rider who had spoken.
"I can bear it very well," he retorted and found his proud reward inthe company's laughter. The remark, moreover, passed from lip to lipto the king, and the misshapen jester felt his little cup of happinessfilled once more to the brim; his old prestige seemed coming back tohim; holding his position in the road, he gazed disdainfully at thedisgruntled knight, and the other returned the look with one of heartyill-will, muttering an imprecation and warning just above his breath.
"Sire," called out Triboulet, loudly, now above fearing courtier,knight or any high official of the realm, "the Count de Piseione sayshe will beat me to death."
"If he does," good-naturedly answered the king, "I will hang himquarter of an hour afterward."
"Please, your Majesty, hang him quarter of an hour before."
Thus right pleasantly, with quip and jest, and many a smart sally, didthe monarch and his retinue draw near the meeting spot, where at a forkof the road, beneath the shade of overhanging branches, were alreadyassembled a goodly group of soldiers. Beyond them, at a respectfuldistance, stood many beasts of burden, heavily laden, the great packspromising stores of rare and costly gifts. At the head of the trooperswas a thick-set man, with broad shoulders and brawny frame, mounted ona powerful gray horse. This leader, whom the approaching companysurmised to be the duke, sat motionless as a statue, gazing steadfastlyat the shining armor and gallant figure of the king who spurred to him,a friendly greeting on his lips. Then, lightly springing to earth andthrowing his bridle to one of his troop, the foreign noble approachedthe royal horseman on foot, and, bending his head, knelt before him,respectfully kissing his hand.
Grim, silent, with hardened faces, the duke's men regarded the scene,their dusty attire (albeit rich enough beneath the marks of travel),sun-burned visages and stolid manner in marked contrast with thebearing and aspect of the king's gay following. One of the alien trooppulled a red mustachio fiercely and eyed a blithe popinjay of the courtwith quizzical superiority; the others remained, stock-still, butobservant.
"I see you are punctual and waiting, noble sir!" said the monarch gailywhen the initial formalities had been complied with. "But that is nomore than should be expected from--an impatient bridegroom." Then,gazing curiously, yet with penetrating look, on the features of hisguest, who now had arisen: "You appear slightly older than I expectedfrom the letter of our dear friend and brother, the emperor."
And truly the duke's appearance was that of a man more nearly five andthirty than five and twenty; his face was brown from exposure and uponhis brow the scar of an old sword wound; yet a fearless, dashingcountenance; an eye that could kindle to headlong passion, and athick-set neck and heavy jaw that bespoke the foeman who would battleto the last breath.
"Older, Sire?" he replied with composure. "That must needs be, sinceliving in the saddle ages a man."
"Truly," returned the monarch, instinctively laying his hand upon hissword. "The clash of arms, the thunder of hoofs, the wavingbanners--yes, Glory is a seductive mistress who robs us of our youth.Have I not wooed her and found--gray hairs? Who shall give me backthose days?"
"History, your Majesty, shall give them to posterity," answered theduke.
"Even those we lost to Charles?" muttered the king, a shadow passingover his countenance.
"Glory, Sire, is a mistress sometimes fickle in her favors."
"And yet we live but for--" He broke off abruptly, and with the eye ofa trained commander surveyed the duke's men. "Daredevils; daredevils,all!" he muttered.
"Rough-looking fellows, Sire!" apologized the duke, "but tried andfaithful soldiers. Somewhat dusty and road-worn." And his eyes turnedmeaningly to the king's suite; the flashing girdles of silver, theshining hilts, the gorgeous cloaks and even the adornment of ribbons.
"Nay," said Francis meditatively, "on a rough journey I would fain havethese fire-eaters at my back. They look as though they could cut andhew."
"Moderately well, your Majesty," answered the duke with modesty.
"Will you mount, noble sir, and ride with me? Yonder is the castle,and in the castle is a certain fair lady whom you, no doubt, fain wouldsee."
Long gazed the Duke of Friedwald at the distant venerable pile ofstone; the majestic turrets and towers softly floating in a dreamymist; the setting, fresh, woody, green. Long he looked at thisinviting picture and then breathed deeply.
"Ah, Sire, I would the meeting were over," he remarked in a low voice.
"Why so, sir?" asked the king in surprise. "Do you fear you will notfancy the lady?"
"I fear she may not fancy me," retorted the nobleman, soberly. "Yourown remark, Sire; that I appear older than you had expected?" hecontinued, gravely, significantly.
"A recommendation in your favor," laughed the monarch. "I ever prefersober manhood to callow youth about me. The one is a prop, stanch,tried; the other a reed that bends this way and that, or breaks whenyou press it too hard."
"I should be lacking in gratitude were I not deeply appreciative ofyour Majesty's singular kindness," replied the duke, his face flushingwith pleasure. "But your Majesty knows womankind--"
"Nay; I've studied them a little, but know them not," retorted Francis,dryly.
"And it is unlikely the lady may find me all her imagination hasdepicted," went on the nobleman, with palpable embarrassment. "Mynoble master, the emperor, hath--regarding me still as but a striplingfrom his own vantage point of age and wisdom--represented me a youngman in his proposals. But though I'm younger than I look, and feel noolder than I am, how young, or how old, shall I seem to the princess?"
"Young enough to be her husband; old enough for her to look up to,"answered the monarch, reassuringly.
"Again," objected the duke, meditatively regarding the castle, "she maybe expecting a handsome, debonair bridegroom, and when she seesme"--ruefully surveying himself--"what will she say?"
"What will she say? 'Yes' at the altar. Is it not enough?" Leaningback in his saddle, the king's face expressed the enjoyment he derivedfrom the conversation with the backward and too conscientious soldier.Here was a groom whose wedding promised the court much amusement andsatisfaction in those jovial days of jesting and merry-making.
"Come," resumed the king, encouragingly, "I'll warrant you more forwardin battle."
"Battle!" said the duke. "That's another matter. To see your foeman'sgleaming eyes!--but hers!-- Should they express anger, disdain--"
"Let yours show but the greater wrath," advised the king,complaisantly. "In love, like cures like! Let me be your physician;I'll warrant you'll find me proficient."
"I've heard your Majesty hath practised deeply," returned the noble,readily, in spite of his perplexity.
"Deeply?" Francis lifted his brow. "I am but a superficial student;master only of the rudiments; no graduate of the college of love.Moreover, I've heard the letters you exchanged were--ahem!--well-enoughwrit. You pressed your suit warmly for one unlearned, a mere novice."
"Because I had seen her face, your Majesty; had it ever before me inthe painted miniature. Any man"--with a rough eloquence and fervorthat impressed the king with the depth of his passion--"could wellworship at that fair shrine, but that she--"
"Forward, I beg you!" interrupted the king. "Womankind are but frailflesh, sir; easily molded; easily won. She is a woman; therefore,soft, yielding; yours for the asking. You are over valorous at adistance; too timorous near her. Approach her boldly, and, though shewere Diana's self, I'll answer for your victory! Eh, Triboulet, areour ladies cold-hearted, callous, indifferent to merit?"
"Cold-hearted?" answered the dwarf, with a ludicrous expression offeigned rapture. "Were I to relate--but, no, my tongue issilent--discretion--your Majesty will understand--"
"Well," said the duke, "with encouragement from the best-favoredscholar in the kingdom and the--ugliest, I should proceed with moreconfidence."
> "Best-favored!" smirked the little monster. "Really, you flatter me."
"A whimsical fellow, Sire," vouchsafed the nobleman.
"When he is not tiresome," answered the monarch. "On, gentlemen!" Andthe cavalcade swept down the road toward the castle. Far behind, withcracking of whip, followed the mules and their drivers.