CHAPTER VIII
A BRIEF TRUCE
"Turn out these torch-bearers, human candlesticks, and _valets dechambre_, and I'll get me to bed," commanded the duke, standing in thecenter of his room, and the trooper with the fierce red mustaches waveda swarm of pages, cup-bearers and attendants from the door and closedit. "How are the men quartered, Johann?"
"With all the creature comforts, my Lord," answered the soldier. "Theking hath dressed them like popinjays; they drink overmuch, dice, andrun after the maids, but otherwise are well-behaved."
"Drink; dice; run after the maids!" said the noble, gazing thoughtfullydownward. "Hold them in check, Johann, as though we were in acampaign."
"Yes, my Lord," returned the man, staring impassively before him.
"And especially keep them from the kitchen wenches. There's moredanger in these _femmes de chambre_, laundresses and sculleryCinderellas than in a column of glittering steel. Remember, no Courtof Love in the scullery. Now go! Yet stay, Johann!" he added,suddenly. "This fool of ours is a bold fellow. Look to him well!"
Saluting respectfully, an expression of quick intelligence on hisflorid features, the trooper backed out of the room. With his handsbehind him, his shoulders bent forward, the duke long pondered, hislook, keen and discerning; his perspicacity clear, in spite of Francis'wine, or the intoxication of the princess' eyes. Although the noble'sglance seemed bent on vacancy, it was himself as well as others he wasstudying; weighing the memorable events of the evening; recalling tomind every word with the princess; reviewing her features, thesoftening of her cold disdain; now, mentally distrustful, because shewas a woman; again, confident he already dominated the citadel of herheart.
But a new element had entered into the field; an elementunforeseen--the jester!--and, although not attaching great importanceto this possible source of hazard in his plans for the future, the dukewas too good a soldier to disregard any risk, however slight. In loveand battle, every peril should be avoided; every vulnerable point madeimpregnable. Besides, the fool was audacious, foolhardy; his languageof covert mockery and quick wit proved him an intelligent antagonist,who might become a desperate one.
"A woman and a fool," muttered the duke, striding with quick stepacross his chamber, "are two uncertain quantities. The one should besubjected; the other removed!"
Museful, he stood before the niche, wherein shone a cross of silver,set with amethysts and turquoise, his rugged face lighted by theuncertain flickering of the candles.
"Removed!" he repeated, contemplatively. "And she--"
The clear tinkling of a bell broke in upon his cogitation; a faint,musical sound that seemed at his very elbow. He wheeled aboutabruptly, saw nothing save the mysterious shadows of the curtains, theflickering lamps, the dark outline of the canopy of the great bed.Instinctively he knew he was not alone, and yet his gaze, rapidlysweeping the apartment, failed to perceive an intruder.
Again the tinkling, a low laugh, and, turning sharply toward an alcovefrom whence the sounds came, the duke, through the half-light andtrailing, sombrous shadows of its entrance, perceived a figure in achair. From a candle set in a spiked, enameled stick, a yellowglimmering, that came and went with the sputtering flame, rested uponan ironical face, a graceful figure in motley and a wand with thejester's head and the bell. Without rising, the _plaisant_ quizzicallyregarded the surprised nobleman, who in spite of his self-control hadstepped back involuntarily at the suddenness of the encounter.
"Good evening, my Lord," said the fool. "I am like the genii of thetale. You think of me, and I appear."
Regaining his composure at once, the king's guest bent his heavy browsover his deep-set eyes, and deliberately surveyed the fool.
"And now," went on the jester, gaily, "it is in your mind I am like assuddenly to--disappear! Am I at fault?"
"On the contrary, you are unusually clear-witted," was the answer.
"Oh, my Lord, you over-estimate my poor capacity!" returned thenobleman's unasked caller with a deprecatory gesture.
The hands of the other worked impatiently; his herculean figure blockedthe doorway. "You are a merry fellow!" he observed. "It is to beregretted, but--confess you have brought it upon yourself?"
"What? My fate? Oh, yes!" And he indifferently regarded the wand andthe wooden figure upon it, without moving from the chair.
"You have no fear?" questioned the duke, quietly.
"Fear? Why should I?"
Yawning, the fool stretched his arms, looking not at the nobleman, butbeyond him, and, instinctively, the princess' betrothed peered over hisshoulder in the semi-darkness behind, while his hand quickly sought hissword.
"Fie, most noble Duke!" exclaimed the jester. "We have noeavesdroppers or interlopers, believe me! We are entirely alone, youand I--master and fool. There; come no nearer, I beg!" As thenobleman menacingly moved toward him.
"Have you any argument to advance, Sir Fool, why I should not?" saidthe other, grimly, a gleam of amusement depicted on his broad face ashe paused the while.
"An argument, sharp as a needle, somewhat longer!" replied the jester,touching his breast and drawing from between the folds of his doublet ashining hilt.
Harsh and loud laughed the king's guest. "You fool," he said, "you hadyour opportunity below there in the hall and missed it. You hesitated,went blindly another course, and now"--with ominous meaning--"you arehere!"
Upon the stick a candle dripped, sputtered and went out; the jesterbent forward and with the copper snuffer on the table near by deftlytrimmed the remaining light.
"Only fools fight in darkness," he remarked, quietly, "and here is butone of them."
"You pit yourself and that--plaything!--against me?" asked the burlysoldier, derisively.
"Have you hunted the wild boar, my Lord?" lightly answered the other."How mighty it is! How savage! What tusks! You know the pastime? Aquick step, a sure arm, an eye like lightning--presto! your boar lieson his back, with his feet in the air! You, my Lord, are the boar;big, clumsy, brutal! Shall we begin the sport? I promise to prick youwith every rush."
The prospective bridegroom paused thoughtfully.
"There is some justice in what you say," he returned, his manner thatof a man who has carefully weighed and considered a matter. "I confessto partiality for the thick of the fray, the brunt of the fight, wheremen press all around you."
"Assuredly, my Lord; for then the boar is in his element; no matter howhe rushes, his tusks strike yielding flesh."
"Why should we fight at all--at present?" cautiously ventured thenoble, with further hesitation. "Not that I doubt I could easily crushyou"--extending his muscular arms--"but you _might_ prick me, and, justnow, discretion may be the better part of valor. I--a duke, engaged towed a princess, have much to lose; you, nothing! A fool's stroke mightkill a king."
"Or a knave, my Lord!" added the _plaisant_.
"Or a knave, sirrah!" thundered the duke, the veins starting out on hisforehead.
The jester half drew his dagger; his quiet confidence and glitteringeye impressed even his antagonist, inured to scenes of violence andstrife.
"Is it a truce, most noble Lord?" said the fool, significantly. "Atruce wherein we may call black, black; and white, white! A trucewhich may be broken by either of us, with due warning to the other?"
Knitting his brow, the noble stood motionless, deeply pondering, hisheadlong passion evidently at combat with his judgment; then his facecleared, a hard, brusque laugh burst from his lips and he brought hisfist violently down on the massive oak table near the door.
"So be it!" he assented, with a more open look.
"A truce--without any rushes from the boar?"
"Fool! Does not my word suffice?" contemptuously retorted the duke.
"Yes; for although you are--what you are--you have been a soldier, andwould not break a truce."
"Such commendation from--my jester is, indeed, flattering!" satiricallyremarked the king's guest, seating himsel
f in a great chair whichbrought him face to face with the fool and yet commanded the door, theintruder's only means of retreat.
"Pardon me, the duke's jester, you mean?"
"Yes; mine!"
"A distinction with a difference!" retorted the fool. "It is quitetrue I am the duke's jester; it is equally untrue I am yours.Therefore, we reach the conclusion that you and the duke are twodifferent persons. Plainly, not being the duke, you are an impostor.Have you any fault to find with my reasoning?"
"On the contrary," answered the other, with no sign of anger orsurprise, "your reasoning is all that could be desired. Why should Ideny what you already know? I was aware, of course, that you knew,when I first learned his jester was in the castle. Frankly, I am notthe duke--to you!"
"But with Francis and the court?" suggested the fool, uplifting hisbrows.
"I am the duke--and such remain! You understand?"
"Perfectly, my Lord," replied the jester, shrugging his shoulders."But since I am not the king, nor one of the courtiers, whom, for thetime being, have I the honor of addressing? But, perhaps, I amover-inquisitive."
"Not at all," said the other, with mocking ceremony. "You are awhimsical fellow; besides, I am taken with a man who stands near deathwithout flinching. To tell you the truth, our truce is somewhat to myliking. There are few men who would have dared what you have to-night.And although you're only a fool--will you drink with me from thisbottle on the table here? I'm tired of ceremonies of rank and wouldclink a glass in private with a merry fellow. What say you?"
And leaning over, he filled two large goblets with the rich beveragefrom a great flask placed on the stand for his convenience. His facelighted with gross conviviality, but behind his jovial, free manner,that of a trooper in his cups, gleamed a furtive, guarded look, asthough he were studying and testing his man.
"I'm for a free life; some fighting; but snug walls around forcompanionship," he continued. "Look at my soldiers now; roistering,love-making! Charles? Francis? Not one of the troop would leave mefor emperor or king! Not one but would follow me--where ambitionleads!" Holding up the glass, he looked into the depths of the thickburgundy. "Why, a likely fellow like you should carry a gleamingblade, not a wooden sword. I know your duke--a man of lineage--astring of titles long as my arm--an underling of the emperor, whileI"--closing his great jaw firmly--"owe allegiance to no man, ormonarch, which is the same thing. Drink, lad; I'm pleased I did notkill you."
"And I," laughed the _plaisant_, "congratulate myself you are stillalive--for the wine is excellent!"
"Still alive!" exclaimed the king's guest, boisterously, although adark shadow crossed his glance.
"I'm scarred from head to foot, and my hide is as tough as--"
"A boar's?" tapping his chin with the fool's head on his wand.
"Ah, you will have your jest," retorted the host of the occasion,good-naturedly. "It's bred in the bone. A quality for a soldier.Next to courage is that fine sense of humor which makes a man a _boncamarade_. Put down your graven image, lad; you were made to carryarms, not baubles. Put it down, I say, and touch glasses with Louis,of Pfalz-Urfeld."
"The bastard of Hochfels!" exclaimed the jester, fixedly regarding theman whose name was known throughout Europe for his reckless bravery,his personal resources and his indomitable pride or love of freedom andindependence, which held him aloof from emperor or monarch, and madehim peer and leader among the many intractable spirits of the Austriancountry who had not yet bowed their necks to conquest; a soldier ofmany battles, whose thick-walled fortress, perched picturesquely inmid-air on a steep mountain top, established his security on all sides.
"The same, my friend of the motley," continued the other, not withoutcomplacency, observing the effect of his announcement on the jester.
"He who calls himself the free baron of Hochfels?" observed the fool,setting down the glass from which he had moderately partaken.
"Aye; a man of royal and peasant blood," harshly answered thefree-booter. "Ambition, arrogance, are the kingly inheritance;strength, a constitution of iron, the low-born legacy. What think youof such an endowment?"
"You are far from your castle, my Lord of Hochfels," commented thejester, absently, unmindful of a question he felt not called upon toanswer.
"And yet as safe as in my own mountain nest," retorted the free baron,or free-booter, indifferently. "Who would betray me? There is not atrooper of mine but would die for his master. You would not denounceme, because--but why enumerate the reasons? I hold you in the palm ofmy hand, and, when I close my fingers, there's the end of you."
"But where--allow me; the wine has a rare flavor," and he reached forthe flask.
"Drink freely," returned the pretender; "it is the king's own, and youare my guest. You were about to ask--"
"Whence came the idea for this mad adventure?" said the jester, hiseyes seemingly bent in admiration on the goblet he held; a half globeof crystal sustained by a golden Bacchus.
"Idea!" repeated the self-called baron, with a gesture of satisfaction."It was more than an idea. It was an inspiration, born of that chancewhich points the way to greatness. The feat accomplished, all Europewill wonder at the wanton exploit. At first Francis will rage; thenseeing me impregnably intrenched, will make the best of the marriage,especially as the groom is of royal blood. Next, an alliance with theFrench king against the emperor. Why not; was not Francis once readyto treat even with Solyman to defeat Charles, an overture which shockedChristendom? And while Charles' energies are bent to the task ofprotecting his country from the Turks, a new leader appears; adevil-may-care fellow--and then--and then--"
He broke off abruptly; stared before him, as though the fumes of winewere at last beginning to rise to his head; toyed with his glass anddrank it quickly at a draft. "What an alluring will-o'-the-wispis--to-morrow!" he muttered.
"An illusive hope that reconciles us with to-day," answered the_plaisant_.
"Illusive!" cried the other. "Only for poets, dreamers, fools!"
"And you, Sir Baron, are neither one nor the other," remarked thejester. "No philosopher, but a plain soldier, who chops heads--notlogic. But the inspiration that caused you to embark upon thishot-brained, pretty enterprise?"
"Upon a spur of rock that overlooks the road through the mountain isset the Vulture's Nest, Sir Fool," began the adventurer in a voice atonce confident and arrogant. "At least, so the time-honored fortressof Hochfels is disparagingly designated by the people. As the road isthe only pass through the mountains, naturally we come more or less incontact with the people who go by our doors. Being thus forced,through the situation of our fortress, into the proximity of thetraveling public, we have, from time to time, made such sorties as arepractised by a beleaguered garrison, and have, in consequence, takenprisoners many traffickers and traders, whose goods and chattels wereworthy of our attention as spoils of war. Generally, we have confinedour operations to migratory merchants, who carry more of value andcause less trouble than the emperor's soldiers or the king's troopers,but occasionally we brush against one of the latter bands so that wemay keep in practice in laying our blades to the grindstone, and alsoto show we are soldiers, not robbers."
"Which remains to be proved," murmured the attentive jester. "Yourpardon, noble Lord"--as the other half-started from his chair--"let mefill your glass. 'Tis a pity to neglect such royal wine. Proceed withyour story. Come we presently to the inspiration?"
"At once," answered the apparently appeased master of the fortress,wiping his lips. "One day our western outpost brought in a messenger,and, when we had stripped the knave, upon him we found a miniature anda letter from the princess to the duke. The latter was prettily writ,with here and there a rhyme, and moved me mightily. The eagle hath itsmate, I thought, but the vulture of Hochfels is single, and thisreflection, with the sight of the picture and that right, fair script,saddened me.
"And then, on a sudden, came the inspiration. Why not play a hand inthis intern
ational marriage Charles and Francis were bringing about? Icommanded the only road across the mountain; therefore, did command thesituation. The emperor and the king should be but the wooden figures,and I would pull the strings to make them dance. The duke, yourmaster, why should he be more than a name? The princess' letter toldme she had never seen her betrothed. What easier than to redouble thesentries in the valley, make prisoners of the messengers, clap them inthe fortress dungeons, read the missives, and then despatch them totheir respective destinations by men of my own?"
"Then that was the reason why on my way through the mountains yourknaves attacked me?" said the listener quickly.
"Exactly; to search you. How you slipped through their hands I knownot." And he glanced at the other curiously.
"They were but poor rogues," answered the jester quickly.
"Certainly are you not one!" exclaimed the free baron, with a glance ofapproval at the slender figure of his antagonist. "Two of them paidfor their carelessness. The others were so shamed, they told me somegreat knight had attacked them. A fool in motley!" he laughed. "Nowonder the rogues hung their heads! But in deceiving me," he addedthoughtfully, "they permitted their master to run into an unknownperil--his ignorance that a fool of the duke, or a fool wearing theemblem of the emperor, had gone to Francis' court."
"You were saying, Sir Free Baron, you intended to read the messagesbetween the princess and the duke, and afterward to despatch them bymessengers of your own?" interrupted the _plaisant_.
"Such were my plans. Moreover, I possessed a clerk--a knave who hadkilled an abbot and fled from the monastery--a man of poetry, wit andsentiment. Whenever the letters lacked for ardor, and the lovers hadgrown too timid, him I set to forge a postscript, or indite newmissives, which the rogue did most prettily, having studied love-makingunder the monks. And thus, Sir Fool, I courted and won theprincess--by proxy!"
"Of a certainty, your wooing was at least novel, Sir Knight of theVulture's Nest," dryly observed the jester. "Although, had my masterknown the deception, you would, perhaps, have paid dearly for it."
"Your master, forsooth!" laughed the outlaw lord. "A puny scion of aworn-out ancestry! Such a woman as the princess wants a man of brawnand muscle; no weakling of the nursery."
"Well," said the fool, slowly, "you became intermediary between theprincess and the duke, and the king and the emperor. But to come intothe heart of France; to the king's very palace--did you not feardetection?"
"How?" retorted the other, raising his head and resting his eyes,bloodshot and heavy, on the fool's impassive features. "The roadbetween the two monarchs is mine; no message can now pass. The emperorand the duke may wonder, but the way here is long, and"--with asmile--"I have ample time for the enterprise ere the alarm can begiven."
"And you paved the way for your coming by altering the letters of theduke, or forging new ones?" suggested the listener.
"How else? A word added here and there; a post-script, or even a page!As for their highnesses' seals, any fool can break and mend a seal. Ina week the duke will wonder at the princess' silence; in a fortnight hewill become uneasy; in a month he will learn the cage has been leftopen and the bird hath flown. Then, too, shall the gates of thedungeon be set ajar, and the true, but tardy, messengers permitted togo their respective ways. Is it not a nice adventure? Am I not afitter leader than your duke?"
"Undoubtedly," returned the jester. "He sits at home, while you arehere in his stead. But what will the princess say when she learns?"
"Nothing. She loves me already."
The fool turned pale; the hand that held his glass, however, was firm,and he set the goblet down without a tremor.
"She may weep a little, but it will pass like a summer shower. Womenare weak; women are yielding. Have I not reason to know?" he burstout. "I, a--"
Brusquely he arose from his chair, leaving the sentence uncompleted.Sternly he surveyed the jester.
"Why not take service with me?" he continued, abruptly. "Austria isripe to revolt against the tyranny of the emperor. With the discontentin the Netherlands, the dissensions in Spain, Europe is like a field,cut up, awaiting new-comers."
He paused to allow the force of his words to appeal to the other'simagination. "What say you?" he continued. "Will you serve me?"
"The matter's worth thinking over," answered the fool, evasively.
"Well, take your time," said the king's guest, regarding him moresharply. "And now, as the candles are low and the flask is empty, youhad better take your leave."
At this intimation that the other considered the interview ended, thefool started to his feet and deliberately made his way to the dooropening into the corridor.
"Good-night!" he said, and was about to depart when the free baron heldhim with a word.
"Hold! Why have you not attempted to unmask me--before?"
Steadily the two looked at each other; the eyes of the elder man,cruel, deep, all-observing; those of the younger, steady, fearless,undismayed. Few of his troopers could withstand the sinisterpenetration of Louis of Hochfels' gaze, but on the jester it seemed tohave no more effect than the casual glance of one of Francis' courtiers.
"You knew--and yet you made no sign?" continued the master of thefortress.
"Because I like a strong play and did not wish to spoil it--too soon!"
The questioner's brow fell; the lids half-veiled the dark, savage eyes,but the mouth relaxed. "Ah, you always have your answer," he returnedwith apparent cordiality. "Good-night--and, by the by, our truce is atan end."
"The truce--and the wine," said the jester, as with a ceremonious bow,he vanished amid the shadows in the hall.
Slowly the free baron closed the door and locked it; looked at thecross and at the bed, but made no motion toward either.
"He has already rejected my proposal," thought the self-styled duke."Does he seek for higher rewards by betraying me? Or is it, then,Triboulet told the truth? Is he an aspiring lover of the princess? Oris he only faithful to his master? Why have I failed to read him? Asthough a film lay across his eyes, that index to a man's soul!"
Motionless the free baron stood, long pondering deeply, until upon themantel the richly-chased clock began to strike musically, yetadmonishingly. Whereupon he glanced at the cross; hesitated; then,noting the lateness of the hour, and with, perhaps, a mentalreservation to retrieve his negligence on the morrow, he turned fromthe silver, bejeweled symbol and immediately sought the sensuous bodilyenjoyment of a couch fit for a king or the pope himself.