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diff --git a/41803-0.txt b/41803-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd35dc9 --- /dev/null +++ b/41803-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14472 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41803 *** + +JOAN OF THE SWORD HAND + + + + +_WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ + + + THE STICKIT MINISTER. + THE RAIDERS. + THE PLAYACTRESS. + THE LILAC SUNBONNET. + BOG-MYRTLE AND PEAT. + THE MEN OF THE MOSS HAGS. + CLEG KELLY. + THE GREY MAN. + LADS' LOVE. + LOCHINVAR. + THE STANDARD BEARER. + THE RED AXE. + THE BLACK DOUGLAS. + IONE MARCH. + KIT KENNEDY. + + SWEETHEART TRAVELLERS. + SIR TOADY LION. + + + + +[Illustration: "She met on the middle flight a grey-bearded man." +(Page 25.) _Frontispiece_] + + + + + JOAN OF THE SWORD HAND + + BY + S. R. CROCKETT + + LONDON + WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED + NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE + 1900 + + + _The Illustrations to this edition of + "Joan of the Sword Hand" are by + FRANK RICHARDS._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + I. THE HALL OF THE GUARD 7 + II. THE BAITING OF THE SPARHAWK 14 + III. JOAN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD 19 + IV. THE COZENING OF THE AMBASSADOR 25 + V. JOHANN THE SECRETARY 30 + VI. AN AMBASSADOR'S AMBASSADOR 38 + VII. H.R.H. THE PRINCESS IMPETUOSITY 47 + VIII. JOHANN IN THE SUMMER PALACE 52 + IX. THE ROSE GARDEN 59 + X. PRINCE WASP 64 + XI. THE KISS OF THE PRINCESS MARGARET 70 + XII. JOAN FORSWEARS THE SWORD 79 + XIII. THE SPARHAWK IN THE TOILS 84 + XIV. AT THE HIGH ALTAR 90 + XV. WHAT JOAN LEFT BEHIND 99 + XVI. PRINCE WASP'S COMPACT 105 + XVII. WOMAN'S WILFULNESS 111 + XVIII. CAPTAINS BORIS AND JORIAN PROMOTE PEACE 120 + XIX. JOAN STANDS WITHIN HER DANGER 126 + XX. THE CHIEF CAPTAIN'S TREACHERY 131 + XXI. ISLE RUGEN 139 + XXII. THE HOUSE ON THE DUNES 144 + XXIII. THE FACE THAT LOOKED INTO JOAN'S 150 + XXIV. THE SECRET OF THERESA VON LYNAR 156 + XXV. BORNE ON THE GREAT WAVE 163 + XXVI. THE GIRL BENEATH THE LAMP 169 + XXVII. WIFE AND PRIEST 175 + XXVIII. THE RED LION FLIES AT KERNSBERG 182 + XXIX. THE GREETING OF THE PRINCESS MARGARET 191 + XXX. LOVE'S CLEAR EYE 197 + XXXI. THE ROYAL MINX 204 + XXXII. THE PRINCESS MARGARET IS IN A HURRY 212 + XXXIII. A WEDDING WITHOUT A BRIDEGROOM 217 + XXXIV. LITTLE JOHANNES RODE 222 + XXXV. A PERILOUS HONEYMOON 229 + XXXVI. THE BLACK DEATH 236 + XXXVII. THE DROPPING OF A CLOAK 245 + XXXVIII. THE RETURN OF THE BRIDE 251 + XXXIX. PRINCE WASP STINGS 258 + XL. THE LOVES OF PRIEST AND WIFE 266 + XLI. THERESA KEEPS TROTH 277 + XLII. THE WORDLESS MAN TAKES A PRISONER 287 + XLIII. TO THE RESCUE 295 + XLIV. THE UKRAINE CROSS 301 + XLV. THE TRUTH-SPEAKING OF BORIS AND JORIAN 310 + XLVI. THE FEAR THAT IS IN LOVE 315 + XLVII. THE BROKEN BOND 324 + XLVIII. JOAN GOVERNS THE CITY 332 + XLIX. THE WOOING OF BORIS AND JORIAN 338 + L. THE DIN OF BATTLE 345 + LI. THERESA'S TREACHERY 355 + LII. THE MARGRAF'S POWDER CHESTS 366 + LIII. THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH VISIBLE 380 + EPILOGUE OF EXPLICATION 388 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE HALL OF THE GUARD + + +Loud rang the laughter in the hall of the men-at-arms at Castle +Kernsberg. There had come an embassy from the hereditary Princess of +Plassenburg, recently established upon the throne of her ancestors, to +the Duchess Joan of Hohenstein, ruler of that cluster of hill statelets +which is called collectively Masurenland, and which includes, besides +Hohenstein the original Eagle's Eyrie, Kernsberg also, and Marienfield. + +Above, in the hall of audience, the ambassador, one Leopold von +Dessauer, a great lord and most learned councillor of state, sat alone +with the young Duchess. They were eating of the baked meats and drinking +the good Rhenish up there. But, after all, it was much merrier down +below with Werner von Orseln, Alt Pikker, Peter Balta, and John of +Thorn, though what they ate was mostly but plain ox-flesh, and their +drink the strong ale native to the hill lands, which is called Wendish +mead. + +"Get you down, Captains Jorian and Boris," the young Duchess had +commanded, looking very handsome and haughty in the pride of her twenty +years, her eight strong castles, and her two thousand men ready to rise +at her word; "down to the hall of guard, where my officers send round +the wassail. If they do not treat you well, e'en come up and tell it to +me." + +"Good!" responded the two soldiers of the Princess of Plassenburg, +turning them about as if they had been hinged on the same stick, and +starting forward with precisely the same stiff hitch from the halt, they +made for the door. + +"But stay," Joan of Hohenstein had said, ere they reached it, "here are +a couple of rings. My father left me one or two such. Fit them upon your +fingers, and when you return give them to the maidens of your choice. Is +there by chance such an one, Captain Jorian, left behind you at +Plassenburg?" + +"Aye, madam," said Jorian, directing his left eye, as he stood at +attention, a little slantwise in the direction of his companion. + +"What is her name?" + +"Gretchen is her name," quoth the soldier. + +"And yours, Captain Boris?" + +The second automaton, a little slower of tongue than his companion, +hesitated a moment. + +"Speak up," said his comrade, in an undergrowl; "say 'Katrin.'" + +"Katrin!" thundered Captain Boris, with bluff apparent honesty. + +"It is well," said the Duchess Joan; "I think no less of a sturdy +soldier for being somewhat shamefaced as to the name of his sweetheart. +Here is a ring apiece which will not shame your maidens in far +Plassenburg, as you walk with them under the lime-trees, or buy ribbons +for them in the booths that cluster about the Minster walls." + +The donor looked at the rings again. She espied the letters of a posy +upon them. + +"Ha!" she cried, "Captain Boris, what said you was the name of your +betrothed?" + +"Good Lord!" muttered Boris lowly to himself, "did I not tell the woman +even now?--Gretchen!" + +"Hut, you fool!" Jorian's undergrowl came to his ear, "Katrin--not +Gretchen; Gretchen is mine." + +"I mean Katrin, my Lady Duchess," said Boris, putting a bold face on the +mistake. + +The young mistress of the castle smiled. "Thou art a strange lover," she +said, "thus to forget the name of thy mistress. But here is a ring with +a K writ large upon it, which will serve for thy Katherina. And here, +Captain Jorian, is one with a G scrolled in Gothic, which thou wilt +doubtless place with pride upon the finger of Mistress Gretchen among +the rose gardens of Plassenburg." + +"Good!" said Jorian and Boris, making their bows together; "we thank +your most gracious highness." + +"Back out, you hulking brute!" the undertone came again from Jorian; +"she will be asking us for their surnames if we bide a moment longer. +Now then, we are safe through the door; right about, Boris, and thank +Heaven she had not time for another question, or we were men undone!" + +And with their rings upon their little fingers the two burly captains +went down the narrow stair of Castle Kernsberg, nudging each other +jovially in the dark places as if they had again been men-at-arms and no +captains, as in the old days before the death of Karl the Usurper and +the coming back of the legitimate Princess Helene into her rights. + +Being arrived at the hall beneath they soon found themselves the centre +of a hospitable circle. Gruff, bearded Wendish men were these officers +of the young Duchess; not a butterfly youngling or a courtly carpet +knight among them, but men tanned like shipmen of the Baltic, soldiers +mostly who had served under her father Henry, foraging upon occasion as +far as the Mark in one direction and into Bor-Russia in the other, men +grounded and compacted after the hearts of Jorian and Boris. + +It was small wonder that amid such congenial society the ex-men-at-arms +found themselves presently very much at home. Scarcely were they seated +when Jorian began to brag of the gift the Duchess had given him for the +maiden of his troth. + +"And Boris here, that hulking cobold, that Hans Klapper upon the +housetops, had well-nigh spoiled the jest; for when her ladyship asked +him a second time in her sweet voice for the name of his 'betrothed,' +he must needs lay his tongue to 'Gretchen,' instead of 'Katrin,' as he +had done at the first!" + +Then all suddenly the bearded, burly officers of the Duchess Joan looked +at each other with a little scared expression on their faces, through +which gradually glimmered up a certain grim amusement. Werner von +Orseln, the eldest and gravest of all, glanced round the full circle of +his mess. Then he looked back at the two captains of the embassy guard +of Plassenburg with a pitying glance. + +"And you lied about your sweethearts to the Duchess Joan?" he said. + +"Ha, ha! Yes! I trow yes," quoth Jorian jovially. "Wine may be dear, but +this ring will pay the sweets of many a night!" + +"Ha, ha! It will, will it?" said Werner, the chief captain, grimly. + +"Aye, truly," echoed Boris, the mead beginning to work nuttily under his +steel cap, "when we melt this--ha, ha!--Katrin's jewel, we'll quaff many +a beaker. The Rhenish shall flow-ow-ow! And Peg and Moll and Elisabet +shall be there--yes, and many a good fellow-ow-ow----" + +"Shut the door!" quoth Werner, the chief captain, at this point. "Sit +down, gentlemen!" + +But Jorian and Boris were not to be so easily turned aside. + +"Call in the ale-drawer--the tapster, the pottler, the over-cellarer, +whatever you call him. For we would have more of his vintage. Why, is +this a night of jewels, and shall we not melt them? We may chance to get +another for a second mouthful of lies to-morrow morning. A good duchess +as ever was--a soft princess, a princess most gullible is this of yours, +gentlemen of the Eagle's Nest, kerns of Kernsberg!" + +"Sit down," said Werner yet more gravely. "Captains Jorian and Boris, +you do not seem to know that you are no longer in Plassenburg. The broom +bush does not keep the cow betwixt Kernsberg and Hohenstein. Here are no +Tables of Karl the Miller's Son to hamper our liege mistress. Do you +know that you have lied to her and made a jest of it?" + +"Aye," cried Jorian, holding his ring high; "a sweet, easy maid, this of +yours, as ever was cozened. An easy service yours must be. Lord! I could +feather my nest well inside a year--one short year with such a mistress +would do the business. Why, she will believe anything!" + +"So," said Werner von Orseln grimly, "you think so, do you, Captains +Boris and Jorian, of the embassy staff? Well, listen!" + +He spoke very slowly, leaning towards them and punctuating his meaning +upon the palm of his left hand with the fingers of his right. "If I, +Werner of Orseln, were now to walk upstairs, and in so many words tell +my lady, 'the sweet, easy princess,' as you name her, Joan of the Sword +Hand, as we are proud----" + +"_Joan of the Sword Hand! Hoch!_" + +The men-at-arms at the lower table, the bearded captains at the high +board, the very page boys lounging and scuffling in the niches, rose to +their feet at the name, pronounced in a voice of thunder-pride by Chief +Captain Werner. + +"Joan of the Sword Hand! _Hoch!_ Hent yourselves up, Wends! Up, +Plassenburg! Joan of the Sword Hand! Our Lady Joan! _Hoch!_ And three +times _hoch_!" + +The hurrahs ran round the oak-panelled hall. Jorian and Boris looked at +each other with surprise, but they were stout fellows, and took matters, +even when most serious, pretty much as they came. + +"I thank you, gentlemen, on behalf of my lady, in whose name I command +here," said Werner, bowing ceremoniously to all around, while the others +settled themselves to listen. "Now, worthy soldiers of Plassenburg," he +went on, "be it known to you that if (to suppose a case which will not +happen) I were to tell our Lady Joan what you have confessed to us here +and boasted of--that you lied and double lied to her--I lay my life and +the lives of these good fellows that the pair of you would be aswing +from the corner gallery of the Lion's Tower in something under five +minutes." + +"Aye, and a good deed it were, too!" chorussed the round table of the +guard hall. "Heaven send it, the jackanapes! To rail at our Duchess!" + +Jorian rose to his feet. "Up, Boris!" he cried; "no Bor-Russian, no kern +of Hohenstein that ever lived, shall overcrow a captain of the armies of +Plassenburg and a soldier of the Princess Helene--Heaven bless her! Take +your ring in your hand, Boris, for we will go up straightway, you and I. +And we will tell the Lady Duchess Joan that, having no sweetheart of +legal standing, and no desire for any, we choused her into the belief +that we would bestow her rings upon our betrothed in the rose-gardens of +Plassenburg. Then will we see if indeed we shall be aswing in five +minutes. Ready, Boris?" + +"Aye, thrice ready, Jorian!" + +"About, then! Quick march!" + +A great noise of clapping rose all round the hall as the two stout +soldiers set themselves to march up the staircase by which they had just +descended. + +"Stand to the doors!" cried Werner, the chief captain; "do not let them +pass. Up and drink a deep cup to them, rather! To Captains Jorian and +Boris of Plassenburg, brave fellows both! Charge your tankards. The mead +of Wendishland shall not run dry. Fill them to the brim. A caraway seed +in each for health's sake. There! Now to the honour and long lives of +our guests. Jorian and Boris--_hoch_!" + +"_Jorian and Boris--hoch!_" + +The toast was drunk amid multitudinous shoutings and handshakings. The +two men had stopped, perforce, for the doors were in the hands of the +soldiers of the guard, and the pike points clustered thick in their +path. They turned now in the direction of the high table from which they +had risen. + +"Deal you so with your guests who come on embassy?" said Jorian, +smiling. "First you threaten them with hanging, and then you would make +them drunk with mead as long in the head as the devil of Trier that +deceived the Archbishop-Elector and gat the holy coat for a +foot-warmer!" + +"Sit down, gentlemen, and I also will sit. Now, hearken well," said +Werner; "these honest fellows of mine will bear me out that I lie not. +You have done bravely and spoken up like good men taken in a fault. But +we will not permit you to go to your deaths. For our Lady Joan--God +bless her!--would not take a false word from any--no, not if it were on +Twelfth Night or after a Christmas merry-making. She would not forgive +it from your old Longbeard upstairs, whose business it is--that is, if +she found it out. 'To the gallows!' she would say, and we--why then we +should sorrow for having to hasten the stretching of two good men. But +what would you, gentlemen? We are her servants and we should be obliged +to do her will. Keep your rings, lads, and keep also your wits about you +when the Duchess questions you again. Nay, when you return to +Plassenburg, be wise, seek out a Gretchen and a Katrin and bestow the +rings upon them--that is, if ever you mean again to stand within the +danger of Joan of the Sword Hand in this her castle of Kernsberg." + +"Gretchens are none so scarce in Plassenburg," muttered Jorian. "I think +we can satisfy a pair of them--but at a cheaper price than a ring of +rubies set in gold!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BAITING OF THE SPARHAWK + + +"Bring in the Danish Sparhawk, and we will bait him!" said Werner. "We +have shown our guests but a poor entertainment. Bring in the Sparhawk, I +say!" + +At this there ensued unyoked merriment. Each stout lad, from one end of +the hall to the other, undid his belt as before a nobler course and +nudged his fellow. + +"'Ware, I say, stand clear! Here comes the Wild Boar of the Ardennes, +the Wolf of Thuringia, the Bear from the Forests of Bor-Russia! Stand +clear--stand clear!" cried Werner von Orseln, laughing and pretending to +draw a dagger to provide for his own safety. + +The inner door which led from the hall of the men-at-arms to the +dungeons of the castle was opened, and all looked towards it with an air +of great amusement and expectation. + +"Now we shall have some rare sport," each man said to his neighbour, and +nodded. + +"The baiting of the Sparhawk! The Sparhawk comes!" + +Jorian and Boris looked with interest in the direction of the door +through which such a remarkable bird was to arrive. They could not +understand what all the pother could be about. + +"What the devil----?" said Jorian. + +And, not to be behindhand, "What the devil----?" echoed Boris. For +mostly these two ran neck and neck from drop of flag to winning-post. + +Through the black oblong of the dungeon doorway there came a lad of +seventeen or eighteen, tall, slim, dark-browed, limber. He walked +between a pair of men-at-arms, who held his wrists firmly at either +side. His hands were chained together, and from between them dangled a +spiked ball that clanked heavily on the floor as he stumbled forward +rather than walked into the room. He had black hair that waved from his +forehead in a backward sweep, a nose of slightly Roman shape, which, +together with his bold eagle's eyes, had obtained him the name of the +Spar or Sparrow-hawk. And on his face, handsome enough though pale, +there was a look of haughty disdain and fierce indignation such as one +may see in the demeanour of a newly prisoned bird of prey, which hath +not yet had time to forget the blue empyrean spaces and the stoop with +half-closed wings upon the quarry trembling in the vale. + +"Ha, Sparhawk!" cried Werner, "how goes it, Sparhawk? Any less bold and +peremptory than when last we met? Your servant, Count Maurice von Lynar! +We pray you dance for us the Danish dance of shuffle-board, Count +Maurice, if so your Excellency pleases!" + +The lad looked up the table and down with haughty eyes that deigned no +answer. + +Werner von Orseln turned to his guests and said, "This Sparhawk is a +little Dane we took on our last excursion to the north. It is only in +that direction we can lead the foray, since you have grown so +law-abiding and strong in Plassenburg and the Mark. His uncles and +kinsfolk were all killed in the defence of Castle Lynar, on the Northern +Haff. We know not which of these had also the claim of fatherhood upon +him. At all events, his grandad had a manor there, and came from the +Jutland sand-dunes to build a castle upon the Baltic shores. But he had +better have stayed at home, for he would not pay the Peace Geld to our +Henry. So the Lion roared, and we went to Castle Lynar and made an +end--save of this spitting Sparhawk, whom our master would not let us +kill, and whom now we keep with clipped wings for our sport." + +The lad listened with erected head and haughty eyes to the tale, but +answered not a word. + +"Now," cried Werner, with his cup in his hand and his brows bent upon +the youth, "dance for us as you used to do upon the Baltic, when the +maids came in fresh from their tiring and the newest kirtles were +donned. Dance, I say! Foot it for your life!" + +The lad Maurice von Lynar stood with his bold eyes upon his tormentors. +"Curs of Bor-Russia," he said at last, in speech that trembled with +anger, "you may vex the soul of a Danish gentleman with your aspersions, +you may wound his body, but you will never be able to stand up to him in +battle. You will never be worthy to eat or drink with him, to take his +hand in comradeship, or to ride a tilt with him. Pigs of the sty you +are, man by man of you--Wends and boors, and no king's gentlemen." + +"Bravo!" said Boris, under his breath, "that is none so dustily said for +a junker!" + +"Silence with that tongue of yours!" muttered his mate. "Dost want to be +yawing out of that window presently, with the wind spinning you about +and about like a capon on a jack-spit? They are uncanny folk, these of +the woman's castle--not to trust to. One knows not what they may do, nor +where their jest may end." + +"Hans Trenck, lift this springald's pretty wrist-bauble!" said Werner. + +A laughing man-at-arms went up, his partisan still over his shoulder, +and laying his hand upon the chain which depended between the manacled +wrists of the boy Maurice, he strove to lift the spiked ball. + +"What!" cried Werner, "canst thou, pap-backed babe, not lift that which +the noble Count Maurice of Lynar has perforce to carry about with him +all day long? Down with your weapon, man, and to it like an apothecary +compounding some blister for stale fly-blown rogues!" + +At the word the man laid down his partisan and lifted the ball high +between his two hands. + +"Now dance!" commanded Werner von Orseln, "dance the Danish milkmaid's +coranto, or I will bid him drop it on your toes. Dost want them jellied, +man?" + +"Drop, and be damned in your low-born souls!" cried the lad fiercely. +"Untruss my hands and let me loose with a sword, and ten yards clear on +the floor, and, by Saint Magnus of the Isles, I will disembowel any +three of you!" + +"You will not dance?" said Werner, nodding at him. + +"I will see you fry in hell fire first!" + +"Down with the ball, Hans Trenck!" cried Werner. "He that will not dance +at Castle Kernsberg must learn at least to jump." + +The man-at-arms, still grinning, lifted the ball a little higher, +balancing it in one hand to give it more force. He prepared to plump it +heavily upon the undefended feet of young Maurice. + +"'Ware toes, Sparhawk!" cried the soldiers in chorus, but at that +moment, suddenly kicking out as far as his chains allowed, the boy took +the stooping lout on the face, and incontinently widened the superficial +area of his mouth. He went over on his back amid the uproarious laughter +of his fellows. + +"Ha! Hans Trenck, the Sparhawk hath spurred you, indeed! A brave +Sparhawk! Down went poor Hans Trenck like a barndoor fowl!" + +The fellow rose, spluttering angrily. + +"Hold his legs, some one," he said, "I'll mark his pretty feet for him. +He shall not kick so free another time." + +A couple of his companions took hold of the boy on either side, so that +he could not move his limbs, and Hans again lifted high the ball. + +"Shall we stand this? They call this sport!" said Boris; "shall I pink +the brutes?" + +"Sit down and shut your eyes. Our Prince Hugo will harry this nest of +thieves anon. For the present we must bear their devilry if we want to +escape hanging!" + +"Now then, for marrow and mashed trotters!" cried Hans, spitting the +blood from the split corners of his mouth. + +"_Halt!_" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +JOAN DRAWS FIRST BLOOD + + +The word of command came full and strong from +the open doorway of the hall. + +Hans Trenck came instantly to the salute with the ball in his hand. He +had no difficulty in lifting it now. In fact, he did not seem able to +let it down. Every man in the hall except the two captains of +Plassenburg had risen to his feet and stood as if carved in marble. + +For there in the doorway, her slim figure erect and exceedingly +commanding, and her beautiful eyes shining with indignation, stood the +Duchess Joan of Hohenstein. + +"Joan of the Sword Hand!" said Jorian, enraptured. "Gott, what a wench!" + +In stern silence she advanced into the hall, every man standing fixed at +attention. + +"Good discipline!" said Boris. + +"Shut your mouth!" responded Jorian. + +"Keep your hand so, Hans Trenck," said their mistress; "give me your +sword, Werner! You shall see whether I am called Joan of the Sword Hand +for naught. You would torture prisoners, would you, after what I have +said? Hold up, I say, Hans Trenck!" + +And so, no man saying her nay, the girl took the shining blade and, with +a preliminary swish through the air and a balancing shake to feel the +elastic return, she looked at the poor knave fixed before her in the +centre of the hall with his wrist strained to hold the prisoner's ball +aloft at the stretch of his arm. What wonder if it wavered like a +branch in an uncertain wind? + +"Steady there!" said Joan. + +And she drew back her arm for the stroke. + +The young Dane, who, since her entrance, had looked at nothing save the +radiant beauty of the figure before him, now cried out, "For Heaven's +sake, lady, do not soil the skirts of your dress with his villain blood. +He but obeyed his orders. Let me be set free, and I will fight him or +any man in the castle. And if I am beaten, let them torture me till I am +carrion fit only to be thrown into the castle ditch." + +The Duchess paused and leaned on the sword, holding it point to the +floor. + +"By whose orders was this thing done?" she demanded. + +The lad was silent. He disdained to tell tales even on his enemies. Was +he not a gentleman and a Dane? + +"By mine, my lady!" said Werner von Orseln, a deep flush upon his manly +brow. + +The girl looked severely at him. She seemed to waver. "Good, then!" she +said, "the Dane shall fight Werner for his life. Loose him and chafe his +wrists. Ho! there--bring a dozen swords from the armoury!" + +The flush was now rising to the boy's cheek. + +"I thank you, Duchess," he said. "I ask no more than this." + +"Faith, the Sparhawk is not tamed yet," said Boris; "we shall see better +sport ere all be done!" + +"Hold thy peace," growled Jorian, "and look." + + * * * * * + +"Out into the light!" cried the young Duchess Joan, pointing the way +with Werner's sword, which she still held in her hand. And going first +she went forth from the hall of the soldiery, down the broad stairs, and +soon through a low-arched door with a sculptured coat-of-arms over it, +out into the quadrangle of the courtyard. + +"And now we will see this prisoner of ours, this cock of the Danish +marches, make good his words. That, surely, is better sport than to +drop caltrops upon the toes of manacled men." + +Werner followed unwillingly and with deep flush of shame upon his brow. + +"My lady," he said, going up to his mistress, "I do not need to prove my +courage after I have served Kernsberg and Hohenstein for thirty-eight +years--or well-nigh twice the years you have lived--fought for you and +your father and shed my blood in a score of pitched battles, to say +nothing of forays. Of course I will fight, but surely this young +cockerel might be satisfied to have his comb cut by younger hands." + +"Was yours the order concerning the dropping of the ball?" asked the +Duchess Joan. + +The grey-headed soldier nodded grimly. + +"I gave the order," he said briefly. + +"Then by St. Ursula and her boneyard, you must stand to it!" cried this +fiery young woman. "Else will I drub you with the flat of your own +sword!" + +Werner bowed with a slightly ironic smile on his grizzled face. + +"As your ladyship wills," he said; "I do not give you half obedience. If +you say that I am to get down on my knees and play cat's cradle with the +Kernsberg bairns, I will do it!" + +Joan of the Sword here looked calmly at him with a certain austerity in +her glance. + +"Why, of course you would!" she said simply. + +Meanwhile the lad had been freed from his bonds and stood with a sword +in his hand suppling himself for the work before him with quick little +guards and feints and attacks. There was a proud look in his eyes, and +as his glance left the Duchess and roved round the circle of his foes, +it flashed full, bold, and defiant. + +Werner turned to a palish lean Bohemian who stood a little apart. + +"Peter Balta," he said, "will you be my second? Agreed! And who will +care for my honourable opponent?" + +"Do not trouble yourself--that will arrange itself!" said Joan to her +chief captain. + +With that she flashed lightfoot into one of the low doors which led into +the flanking turrets of the quadrangle, and in a tierce of seconds she +was out again, in a forester's dress of green doublet and broad pleated +kirtle that came to her knee. + +"I myself," she said, challenging them with her eyes, "will be this +young man's second, in this place where he has so many enemies and no +friends." + +As the forester in green and the prisoner stood up together, the guards +murmured in astonishment at the likeness between them. + +"Had this Dane and our Joan been brother and sister, they could not have +favoured each other more," they said. + +A deep blush rose to the youth's swarthy face. + +"I am not worthy," he said, and kept his eyes upon the lithe figure of +the girl in its array of well-fitting velvet. "I cannot thank you!" he +said again. + +"Tut," she answered, "worthy--unworthy--thank--unthank--what avail these +upon the mountains of Kernsberg and in the Castle of Joan of the Sword +Hand? A good heart, a merry fight, a quick death! These are more to the +purpose than many thanks and compliments. Peter Balta, are you seconding +Werner? Come hither. Let us try the swords, you and I. Will not these +two serve? Guard! Well smitten! There, enough. What, you are touched on +the sword arm? Faith, man, for the moment I forgot that it was not you +and I who were to drum. This tickling of steel goes to my head like wine +and I am bound to forget. I am sorry--but, after all, a day or two in a +sling will put your arm to rights again, Peter. These are good swords. +Now then, Maurice von Lynar--Werner. At the salute! Ready! Fall to!" + +The burly figure of the Captain Werner von Orseln and the slim arrowy +swiftness of Maurice the Dane were opposed in the clear shadow of the +quadrangle, where neither had any advantage of light, and the swords of +their seconds kept them at proper distance according to the fighting +rules of the time. + +"I give the Sparhawk five minutes," said Boris to Jorian, after the +first parry. It was little more than formal and gave no token of what +was to follow. Yet for full twenty minutes Werner von Orseln, the oldest +sworder of all the north, from the marshes of Wilna to the hills of +Silesia, could do nothing but stand on the defensive, so fierce and +incessant were the attacks of the young Dane. + +But Werner did not give back. He stood his ground, warily, steadfastly, +with a half smile on his face, a wall of quick steel in front of him, +and the point of his adversary's blade ever missing him an inch at this +side, and coming an inch short upon that other. The Dane kept as +steadily to the attack, and made his points as much by his remarkable +nimbleness upon his feet as by the lightning rapidity of his sword-play. + +"The Kernsberger is playing with him!" said Boris, under his breath. + +Jorian nodded. He had no breath to waste. + +"But he is not going to kill him. He has not the Death in his eye!" +Boris spoke with judgment, for so it proved. Werner lifted an eyebrow +for the fraction of a second towards his mistress. And then at the end +of the next rally his sword just touched his young adversary on the +shoulder and the blood answered the thrust, staining the white +underdoublet of the Dane. + +Then Werner threw down his sword and held out his hand. + +"A well-fought rally," he said; "let us be friends. We need lads of such +metal to ride the forays from the hills of Kernsberg. I am sorry I +baited you, Sparhawk!" + +"A good fight clears all scores!" replied the youth, smiling in his +turn. + +"Bring a bandage for his shoulder, Peter Balta!" cried Joan. "Mine was +the cleaner stroke which went so near your great muscle, but Werner's is +somewhat the deeper. You can keep each other company at the dice-box +these next days. And, as I warrant neither of you has a Lübeck guilder +to bless yourself with, you can e'en play for love till you wear out the +pips with throwing." + +"Then I am not to go back to the dungeon?" said the lad, one reason of +whose wounding had been that he also lifted his eyes for a moment to +those of his second. + +"To prison--no," said Joan; "you are one of us now. We have blooded you. +Do you take service with me?" + +"I have no choice--your father left me none!" the lad replied, quickly +altering his phrase. "Castle Lynar is no more. My grandfather, my +father, and my uncles are all dead, and there is small service in going +back to Denmark, where there are more than enough of hungry gentlemen +with no wealth but their swords and no living but their gentility. If +you will let me serve in the ranks, Duchess Joan, I shall be well +content!" + +"I also," said Joan heartily. "We are all free in Kernsberg, even if we +are not all equal. We will try you in the ranks first. Go to the men's +quarters. George the Hussite, I deliver him to you. See that he does not +get into any more quarrels till his arm is better, and curb my rascals' +tongues as far as you can. Remember who meddles with the principal must +reckon with the second." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE COZENING OF THE AMBASSADOR + + +The next moment Joan had disappeared, and when she was seen again she +had assumed the skirt she had previously worn over her dress of +forester, and was again the sedate lady of the castle, ready to lead the +dance, grace the banquet, or entertain the High State's Councillor of +Plassenburg, Leopold von Dessauer. + +But when she went upstairs she met on the middle flight a grey-bearded +man with a skull cap of black velvet upon his head. His dress also was +of black, of a distinguishing plain richness and dignity. + +"Whither away, Ambassador?" she cried gaily at the sight of him. + +"To see to your principal's wound and that of the other whom your sword +countered in the trial bout!" + +"What? You saw?" said the Duchess, with a quick flush. + +"I am indeed privileged not to be blind," said Dessauer; "and never did +I see a sight that contented me more." + +"And you stood at the window saying in your heart (nay, do not deny it) +'unwomanly--bold--not like my lady the Princess of Plassenburg. She +would not thus ruffle in the courtyard with the men-at-arms!'" + +"I said no such thing," said the High Councillor. "I am an old man and +have seen many fair women, many sweet princesses, each perfect to their +lovers, some of them even perfect to their lords. But I have never +before seen a Duchess Joan of Hohenstein." + +"Ambassador," cried the girl, "if you speak thus and with that flash of +the eye, I shall have to bethink me whether you come not as an +ambassador for your own cause." + +"I would that I were forty years younger and a prince in my own right, +instead of a penniless old baron. Why, then, I would not come on any +man's errand--no, nor take a refusal even from your fair lips!" + +"I declare," said the Duchess Joan impetuously, "you should have no +refusal from me. You are the only man I have ever met who can speak of +love and yet be tolerable. It is a pity that my father left me the evil +heritage that I must wed the Prince of Courtland or lose my dominions!" + +At the sound of the name of her predestined husband a sudden flashing +thought seemed to wake in the girl's breast. + +"My lord," she said, "is it true that you go to Courtland after leaving +our poor eagle's nest up here on the cliffs of the Kernsberg?" + +Von Dessauer bowed, smiling at her. He was not too old to love beauty +and frankness in women. "It is true that I have a mission from my Prince +and Princess to the Prince of Courtland and Wilna. But----" + +Joan of the Sword clasped her hands and drew a long breath. + +"I would not ask it of any man in the world but yourself," she said, +"but will you let me go with you?" + +"My dear lady," said Dessauer, with swift deprecation, "to go with the +ambassador of another power to the court and palace of the man you are +to marry--that were a tale indeed, salt enough even for the Princes of +Ritterdom. As it is----" + +The Duchess looked across at Dessauer with great haughtiness. "As it is, +they talk more than enough about me already," she said. "Well--I know, +and care not. I am no puling maid that waits till she is authorised by +a conclave of the empire before she dares wipe her nose when she hath a +cold in the head. Joan of the Sword Hand cares not what any prince may +say--from yours of Plassenburg, him of the Red Axe, to the fat Margraf +George." + +"Oh, our Prince, he says naught, but does much," said Dessauer. "He hath +been a rough blade in his time, but Karl the Miller's son mellowed him, +and by now his own Princess hath fairly civilised him." + +"Well," said Joan of the Sword, with determination, "then it is settled. +I am coming with you to Courtland." + +A shade of anxiety passed over Dessauer's countenance. "My lady," he +answered, "you let me use many freedoms of speech with you. It is the +privilege of age and frailty. But let me tell you that the thing is +plainly foolish. Hardly under the escort of the Empress herself would it +be possible for you to visit, without scandal, the court of the Prince +of Courtland and Wilna. But in the train of an envoy of Plassenburg, +even if that ambassador be poor old Leopold von Dessauer, the thing, I +must tell you, is frankly impossible." + +"Well, I am coming, at any rate!" said Joan, as usual rejecting argument +and falling back upon assertion. "Make your count with that, friend of +mine, whether you are shocked or no. It is the penalty a respectable +diplomatist has to pay for cultivating the friendship of lone females +like Joan of Hohenstein." + +Von Dessauer held up his hands in horror that was more than half +affected. + +"My girl," he said, "I might be your grandfather, it is true, but do not +remind me of it too often. But if I were your great-great-grandfather +the thing you propose is still impossible. Think of what the Margraf +George and his chattering train would say!" + +"Think of what every fathead princeling and beer-swilling ritter from +here to Basel would say!" cried Joan, with her pretty nose in the air. +"Let them say! They will not say anything that I care the snap of my +finger for. And in their hearts they will envy you the experience--shall +we say the privilege?" + +"Nay, I thought not of myself, my lady," said Dessauer, "for an old man, +a mere anatomy of bones and parchment, I take strange pleasure in your +society--more than I ought, I tell you frankly. You are to me more than +a daughter, though I am but a poor baron of Plassenburg and the faithful +servant of the Princess Helene. It is for your own sake that I say you +cannot come to Wilna with me. Shall the future Princess of Courtland and +Wilna ride in the train of an ambassador of Plassenburg to the palace in +which she is soon to reign as queen?" + +"I said not that I would go as the Duchess," Joan replied, speaking low. +"You say that you saw me at the fight in the courtyard out there. If you +will not have the Duchess Joan von Hohenstein, what say you to the +Sparhawk's second, Johann the Squire?" + +Dessauer started. + +"You dare not," he said; "why, there is not a lady in the German land, +from Bohemia to the Baltic, that dares do as much." + +"Ladies," flashed Joan--"I am sick for ever of hearing that a lady must +not do this or that, go here or there, because of her so fragile +reputation. She may do needlework or embroider altar-cloths, but she +must not shoot with a pistolet or play with a sword. Well, I am a lady; +let him counter it who durst. And I cannot broider altar-cloths and I +will not try--but I can shoot with any man at the flying mark. She must +have a care for her honour, which (poor, feckless wretch!) will be +smirched if she speaks to any as a man speaks to his fellows. Faith! For +me I would rather die than have such an egg-shell reputation. I can care +for mine own. I need none to take up my quarrel. If any have a word to +say upon the repute of Joan of the Sword Hand--why, let him say it at +the point of her rapier." + +The girl stood up, tall and straight, her head thrown back as it were +at the world, with an exact and striking counterpart of the defiance of +the young Dane in the presence of his enemies an hour before. Dessauer +stood wavering. With quick tact she altered her tone, and with a soft +accent and in a melting voice she added, "Ah, let me come. I will make +such a creditable squire all in a suit of blue and silver, with just a +touch of nutty juice upon my face that my old nurse knows the secret +of." + +Still Dessauer stood silent, weighing difficulties and chances. + +"I tell you what," she cried, pursuing her advantage, "I will see the +man I am to marry as men see him, without trappings and furbelows. And +if you will not take me, by my faith! I will send Werner there, whom you +saw fight the Dane, as my own envoy, and go with him as a page. On the +honour of Henry the Lion, my father, I will do it!" + +Von Dessauer capitulated. "A wilful woman"--he smiled--"a wilful, wilful +woman. Well, I am not responsible for aught of this, save for my own +weakness in permitting it. It is a madcap freak, and no good will come +of it." + +"But you will like it!" she said. "Oh, yes, you will like it very much. +For, you see, you are fond of madcaps." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +JOHANN THE SECRETARY + + +Ten miles outside the boundary of the little hill state of Kernsberg, +the embassage of Plassenburg was met by another cavalcade bearing +additional instructions from the Princess Helene. The leader was a +slender youth of middle height, the accuracy of whose form gave evidence +of much agility. He was dark-skinned, of an olive complexion, and with +closely cropped black hair which curled crisply about his small head. +His eyes were dark and fine, looking straightly and boldly out upon all +comers. + +With him, as chiefs of his escort, were those two silent men Jorian and +Boris, who had, as it was reported, ridden to Plassenburg for +instructions. None of those who followed Dessauer had ever before set +eyes upon this youth, who came with fresh despatches, and, in +consequence, great was the consternation and many the surmises as to who +he might be who stood so high in favour with the Prince and Princess. + +But his very first words made the matter clear. + +"Your Excellency," he said to the Ambassador, "I bring you the most +recent instructions from their Highnesses Hugo and Helene of +Plassenburg. They sojourn for the time being in the city of Thorn, where +they build a new palace for themselves. I was brought from Hamburg to be +one of the master-builders. I have skill in plans, and I bring you these +for your approval and in order to go over the rates of cost with you, +as Treasurer of Plassenburg and the Wolfsmark." + +Dessauer took, with every token of deference, the sheaf of papers so +carefully enwrapt and sealed with the seal of Plassenburg. + +"I thank you for your diligence, good master architect," he said; "I +shall peruse these at my leisure, and, I doubt not, call upon you +frequently for explanations." + +The young man rode on at his side, modestly waiting to be questioned. + +"What is your name, sir?" asked Dessauer, so that all the escort might +hear. + +"I am called Johann Pyrmont," said the youth promptly, and with engaging +frankness; "my father is a Hamburg merchant, trading to the Spanish +ports for oil and wine, but I follow him not. I had ever a turn for +drawing and the art of design!" + +"Also for having your own way, as is common with the young," said the +Ambassador, smiling shrewdly. "So, against your father's will, you +apprenticed yourself to an architect?" + +The young man bowed. + +"Nay, sir," he said, "but my good father could deny me nothing on which +I had set my mind." + +"Not he," muttered Dessauer under his breath; "no, nor any one else +either!" + +So, bridle by jingling bridle, they rode on over the interminable plain +till Kernsberg, with its noble crown of towers, became first grey and +afterwards pale blue in the utmost distance. Then, like a tall ship at +sea, it sank altogether out of sight. And still they rode on through the +marshy hollows, round innumerable little wildfowl-haunted lakelets, and +so over the sandy, rolling dunes to the city of Courtland, where was +abiding the Prince of that rich and noble principality. + +It had been a favourite scheme of dead princes of Courtland to unite to +their fat acres and populous mercantile cities the hardy mountaineers +and pastoral uplands of Kernsberg. But though Wilna and Courtland were +infinitely more populous, the Eagle's Nest was ill to pull down, and +hitherto the best laid plans for their union had invariably fallen +through. But there had come to Joan's father, Henry called the Lion, and +the late Prince Michael of Courtland a better thought. One had a +daughter, the other a son. Neither was burdened with any law of +succession, Salic or other. They held their domains by the free tenure +of the sword. They could leave their powers to whomsoever they would, +not even the Emperor having the right to say, "What doest thou?" So with +that frank carelessness of the private feelings of the individual which +has ever distinguished great politicians, they decreed that, as a +condition of succession, their male and female heirs should marry each +other. + +This bond of Heritage-brotherhood, as it was called, had received the +sanction of the Emperor in full Diet, and now it wanted only that the +Duchess Joan of Hohenstein should be of age, in order that the provinces +might at last be united and the long wars of highland and lowland make +an end. + +The scheme had taken everything into consideration except the private +character of the persons principally affected, Prince Louis of Courtland +and the young Duchess Joan. + +As they came nearer to the ancient city of Courtland, it spread like a +metropolis before the eyes of the embassy of the Prince and Princess of +Plassenburg. The city stretched from the rock whereon the +fortress-palace was built, along a windy, irregular ridge. Innumerable +crow-stepped gables were set at right angles to the street. The towers +of the minster rose against the sky at the lower end, and far to the +southward the palace of the Cardinal Archbishop cast peaked shadows from +its many towers, walled and cinctured like a city within a city. + +It was a far-seen town this of Courtland, populous, prosperous, +defenced. Its clear and broad river was navigable for any craft of the +time, and already it threatened to equal if not to outstrip in +importance the free cities of the Hanseatic League--so far, at least, +as the trade of the Baltic was concerned. + +Courtland had long been considered too strong to be attacked, save from +the Polish border, while the adhesion of Kernsberg, and the drafting of +the Duchess's hardy fighting mountaineers into the lowland armies would +render the princedom safe for many generations. + +Pity it was that plans so far-reaching and purposes so politic should be +dependent upon the whims of a girl! + +But then it is just such whims that make the world interesting. + + * * * * * + +It was the last day of the famous tournament of the Black Eagle in the +princely city of Courtland. Prince Louis had sent out an escort to bring +in the travellers and conduct them with honour to the seats reserved for +them. The Ambassador and High Councillor of Plassenburg must be received +with all observance. He had, he gave notice, brought a secretary with +him. For so the young architect was now styled, in order to give him an +official position in the mission. + +The Prince had also sent a request that, as this was the day upon which +all combatants wore plain armour and jousted unknown, for that time +being the Ambassador should accept other escort and excuse him coming to +receive him in person. They would meet at dinner on the morrow, in the +great hall of the palace. + +The city was arrayed in flaming banners, some streaming high from the +lofty towers of the cathedral, while others (in streets into which the +wind came only in puffs) more languidly and luxuriously unfolded +themselves, as the Black Eagle on its ground of white everywhere took +the air. All over the city a galaxy of lighter silk and bunting, +pennons, bannerettes, parti-coloured streamers of the national colours +danced becking and bowing from window and roof-tree. + +Yet there was a curious silence too in the streets, as they rode towards +the lists of the Black Eagle, and when at last they came within hearing +of the hum of the thousands gathered there, they understood why the city +had seemed so unwontedly deserted. The Courtlanders surrounded the great +oval space of the lists in clustered myriads, and their eyes were bent +inwards. It was the crisis of the great _mêlée_. Scarcely an eye in all +that assembly was turned towards the strangers, who passed quite +unobserved to their reserved places in the Prince's empty box. Only his +sister Margaret, throned on high as Queen of Beauty, looked down upon +them with interest, seeing that they were men who came, and that one at +least was young. + +It was a gay and changeful scene. In the brilliant daylight of the lists +a hundred knights charged and recharged. Those who had been unhorsed +drew their swords and attacked with fury others of the enemy in like +case. The air resounded with the clashing of steel on steel. + +Fifty knights with white plumes on their helmets had charged fifty +wearing black, and the combat still raged. The shouts of the people rang +in the ears of the ambassador of Plassenburg and his secretary, as they +seated themselves and looked down upon the tide of combat over the +flower-draped balustrades of their box. + +"The blacks have it!" said Dessauer after regarding the _mêlée_ with +interest. "We have come in time to see the end of the fray. Would that +we had also seen the shock!" + +And indeed the Blacks seemed to have carried all before them. They were +mostly bigger and stronger built men, knights of the landward provinces, +and their horses, great solid-boned Saxon chargers, had by sheer weight +borne their way through the lighter ranks of the Baltic knights on the +white horses. + +Not more than half a dozen of these were now in saddle, and all over the +field were to be seen black knights receiving the submission of knights +whose broken spears and tarnished plumes showed that they had succumbed +in the charge to superior weight of metal. For, so soon as a knight +yielded, his steed became the property of his victorious foe, and he +himself was either carried or limped as best he could to the pavilion of +his party, there to remove his armour and send it also to the victor--to +whom, in literal fact, belonged the spoils. + +Of the half-dozen white knights who still kept up the struggle, one +shone pre-eminent for dashing valour. His charger surged hither and +thither through the crowd, his spear was victorious and unbroken, and +the boldest opponent thought it politic to turn aside out of his path. +Set upon by more than a score of riders, he still managed to evade them, +and even when all his side had submitted and he alone remained--at the +end of the lists to which he had been driven, he made him ready for a +final charge into the scarce broken array of his foes, of whom more than +twenty remained still on horseback in the field. + +But though his spear struck true in the middle of his immediate +antagonist's shield and his opponent went down, it availed the brave +white knight nothing. For at the same moment half a score of lances +struck him on the shield, on the breastplate, on the vizor bars of his +helmet, and he fell heavily to the earth. Nevertheless, scarcely had he +touched the ground when he was again on his feet. Sword in hand, he +stood for a moment unscathed and undaunted, while his foes, momentarily +disordered by the energy of the charge, reined in their steeds ere they +could return to the attack. + +"Oh, well ridden!" "Greatly done!" "A most noble knight!" These were the +exclamations which came from all parts of the crowd which surged about +the barriers on this great day. + +"I would that I were down beside him with a sword in my hand also!" said +the young architect, Master Johann Pyrmont, secretary of the embassage +of Plassenburg. + +"'Tis well you are where you are, madcap, sitting by an old man's side, +instead of fighting by that of a young one," growled Dessauer. "Else +then, indeed, the bent would be on fire." + +But at this moment the Princess Margaret, sister of the reigning Prince, +rose in her place and threw down the truncheon, which in such cases +stops the combat. + +"The black knights have won," so she gave her verdict, "but there is no +need to humiliate or injure a knight who has fought so well against so +many. Let the white knight come hither--though he be of the losing side. +His is the reward of highest honour. Give him a steed, that he may come +and receive the meed of bravest in the tourney!" + +The knights of the black were manifestly a little disappointed that +after their victory one of their opponents should be selected for +honour. But there was no appeal from the decision of the Queen of Love +and Beauty. For that day she reigned alone, without council or diet +imperial. + +The black riders had therefore to be contented with their general +victory, which, indeed, was indisputable enough. + +The white knight came near and said something in a low voice, unheard by +the general crowd, to the Princess. + +"I insist," she said aloud; "you must unhelm, that all may see the face +of him who has won the prize." + +Whereat the knight bowed and undid his helmet. A closely-cropped +fair-haired head was revealed, the features clearly chiselled and yet of +a grave and massive beauty, the head of a marble emperor. + +"My brother--you!" cried Margaret of Courtland in astonishment. + +The voice of the Princess had also something of disappointment in it. +Clearly she had wished for some other to receive the honour, and the +event did not please her. But it was otherwise with the populace. + +"The young Prince! The young Prince!" cried the people, surging +impetuously about the barriers. "Glory to the noble house of Courtland +and to the brave Prince." + +The Ambassador looked curiously at his secretary. That youth was +standing with eyes brilliant as those of a man in fever. His face had +paled even under its dusky tan. His lips quivered. He straightened +himself up as brave and generous men do when they see a deed of bravery +done by another, or like a woman who sees the man she loves publicly +honoured. + +"The Prince!" said Johann Pyrmont, in a voice hoarse and broken; "it is +the Prince himself." + +And on his high seat the State's Councillor, Leopold von Dessauer, +smiled well pleased. + +"This turns out better than I had expected," he muttered. "God Himself +favours the drunkard and the madcap. Only wise men suffer for their +sins--aye, and often for those of other people as well." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AN AMBASSADOR'S AMBASSADOR + + +After the tourney of the Black Eagle, Leopold von Dessauer had gone to +bed early, feeling younger and lighter than he had done for years. Part +of his scheme for these northern provinces of his fatherland consisted +in gradual substitution of a few strong states for many weak ones. For +this reason he smiled when he saw the eyes of his secretary shining like +stars. + +It would yet more have rejoiced him had he known how uneasy lay that +handsome head on its pillow. Aye, even in pain it would have pleasured +him. For Von Dessauer was lying awake and thinking of the strange +chances which help or mar the lives of men and women, when a sudden +sense of shock, a numbness spreading upwards through his limbs, the +rising of rheum to his eyes, and a humming in his ears, announced the +approach of one of those attacks to which he had been subject ever since +he had been wounded in a duel some years before--a duel in which his +present Prince and his late master, Karl the Miller's Son, had both been +engaged. + +The Ambassador called for Jorian in a feeble voice. That light-sleeping +soldier immediately answered him. He had stretched himself out, wrapped +in a blanket for all covering, on the floor of the antechamber in +Dessauer's lodging. In a moment, therefore, he presented himself at the +door completely dressed. A shake and a half-checked yawn completed his +inexpensive toilet, for Jorian prided himself on not being what he +called "a pretty-pretty captainet." + +"Your Excellency needs me?" he said, standing at the salute as if it had +been the morning guard changing at the palace gate. + +"Give me my case of medicine," said the old man; "that in the bag of +rough Silesian leather. So! I feel my old attack coming upon me. It will +be three days before I can stir. Yet must these papers be put in the +hands of the Prince early this morning. Ah, there is my little Johann; I +was thinking about her--him, I mean. Well, he shall have his chance. +This foul easterly wind may yet blow us all good!" + +He made a wry face as a twinge of pain caught him. It passed and he +resumed. + +"Go, Jorian," he said, "tap light upon his chamber door. If he chance to +be in the deep sleep of youth and health--not yet distempered by thought +and love, by old age and the eating of many suppers--rap louder, for I +must see him forthwith. There is much to set in order ere at nine +o'clock he must adjourn to the summer palace to meet the Prince." + +So in a trice Jorian was gone and at the door of the +architect-secretary, he of the brown skin and Greekish profile. + +Johann Pyrmont was, it appeared, neither in bed nor yet asleep. Instead, +he had been standing at the window watching the brighter stars swim up +one by one out of the east. The thoughts of the young man were happy +thoughts. At last he was in the capital city of the Princes of +Courtland. His many days' journey had not been in vain. Almost in the +first moment he had seen the noble youthful Prince and his sister, and +he was prepared to like them both. Life held more than the preparation +of plans and the ordering of bricklayers at their tasks. There was in +it, strangely enough, a young man with closely cropped head whom Johann +had seen storm through the ranks of the fighting-men that day, and +afterwards receive the guerdon of the bravest. + +Though what difference these things made to an architect of Hamburg town +it was difficult (on the face of things) to perceive. Nevertheless, he +stood and watched the east. It was five of a clear autumnal morning, and +a light chill breath blew from the point at which the sun would rise. + +A pale moon in her last quarter was tossed high among the stars, as if +upborne upon the ebbing tide of night. Translucent greyness filled the +wide plain of Courtland, and in the scattered farms all about the +lights, which signified early horse-tending and the milking of kine, +were already beginning to outrival the waning stars. Orion, with his +guardian four set wide about him, tingled against the face of the east, +and the electric lamp of Sirius burnt blue above the horizon. The +lightness and the hope of breathing morn, the scent of fields half +reaped, the cool salt wind from off the sea, filled the channels of the +youth's life. It was good to be alive, thought Johann Pyrmont, architect +of Hamburg, or otherwise. + +Jorian rapped low, with more reverence than is common from captains to +secretaries of legations. The young man was leaning out of the window +and did not hear. The ex-man-at-arms rapped louder. At the sound Johann +Pyrmont clapped his hand to the hip where his sword should have been. + +"Who is there?" he asked, turning about with keen alertness, and in a +voice which seemed at once sweeter and more commanding than even the +most imperious master-builder would naturally use to his underlings. + +"I--Jorian! His Excellency is taken suddenly ill and bade me come for +you." + +Immediately the secretary opened the door, and in a few seconds stood at +the old man's bedside. + +Here they talked low to each other, the young man with his hand laid +tenderly on the forehead of his elder. Only their last words concern us +at present. + +"This will serve to begin my business and to finish yours. Thereafter +the sooner you return to Kernsberg the better. Remember the moon cannot +long be lost out of the sky without causing remark." + +The young man received the Ambassador's papers and went out. Dessauer +took a composing draught and lay back with a sigh. + +"It is humbling," he said to Jorian, "that to compose young wits you +must do it through the heart, but in the case of the old through the +stomach." + +"'Tis a strange draught _he_ hath gotten," said the soldier, indicating +the door by which the secretary had gone forth. "If I be not mistaken, +much water shall flow under bridge ere his sickness be cured." + +As soon as he had reached his own chamber Johann laid the papers upon +the table without glancing at them. He went again to the window and +looked across the city. During his brief absence the stars had thinned +out. Even the moon was now no brighter than so much grey ash. But the +east had grown red and burned a glorious arch of cool brightness, with +all its cloud edges teased loosely into fretted wisps and flakes of +changeful fire. The wind began to blow more largely and statedly before +the coming of the sun. Johann drew a long breath and opened wide both +halves of the casement. + +"To-day I shall see the Prince!" he said. + +It was exactly nine of the clock when he set out for the palace. He was +attired in the plain black dress of a secretary, with only the narrowest +corded edge and collar of rough-scrolled gold. The slimness of his waist +was filled in so well that he looked no more than a well-grown, +clean-limbed stripling of twenty. A plain sword in a scabbard of black +leather was belted to his side, and he carried his papers in his hand +sealed with seals and wrapped carefully about with silken ties. Yet, for +all this simplicity, the eyes of Johann Pyrmont were so full of light, +and his beauty of face so surprising, that all turned to look after him +as he went by with a free carriage and a swing to his gait. + +Even the market girls ran together to gaze after the young stranger. +Maids of higher degree called sharply to each other and crowded the +balconies to look down upon him. But through the busy morning tumult of +the streets Johann Pyrmont walked serene and unconscious. Was not he +going to the summer palace to see the Prince? + +At the great door of the outer pavilion he intimated his desire to the +officer in charge of the guard. + +"Which Prince?" said the officer curtly. + +"Why," answered the secretary, with a glad heart, "there is but one--he +who won the prize yesterday at the tilting!" + +"God's truth!--And you say true!" ejaculated the guardsman, starting. +"But who are you who dares blurt out on the steps of the palace of +Courtland that which ordinary men--aye, even good soldiers--durst +scarcely think in their own hearts?" + +"I am secretary of the noble Ambassador of Plassenburg, and I come to +see the Prince!" + +"You are a limber slip to be so outspoken," said the man; "but remember +that you could be right easily broken on the wheel. So have a care of +those slender limbs of yours. Keep them for the maids of your +Plassenburg!" + +And with the freedom of a soldier he put his hand about the neck of +Johann Pyrmont, laying it upon his far shoulder with the easy +familiarity of an elder, who has it in his power to do a kindness to a +younger. Instinctively Johann slipped aside his shoulder, and the +officer's hand after hanging a moment suspended in the air, fell to his +side. The Courtlander laughed aloud. + +"What!" he cried, "is my young cock of Plassenburg so mightily +particular that he cannot have an honest soldier's hand upon his +shoulder?" + +"I am not accustomed," said Johann Pyrmont, with dignity, "to have men's +hands upon my shoulder. It is not our Plassenburg custom!" + +The soldier laughed a huge earth-shaking laugh of merriment. + +"Faith!" he cried, "you are early begun, my lad, that men's hands are +so debarred. 'Not our custom!' says he. Why, I warrant, by the fashion +of your countenance, that the hands of ladies are not so unwelcome. Ha! +you blush! Here, Paul Strelitz, come hither and see a young gallant that +blushes at a word, and owns that he is more at home with ladies than +with rough soldiers." + +A great bearded Bor-Russian came out of the guard-room, stretching +himself and yawning like one whose night has been irregular. + +"What's ado?--what is't, that you fret a man in his beauty-sleep?" he +said. "Oh, this young gentleman! Yes, I saw him yesterday, and the +Princess Margaret saw him yesterday, too. Does he go to visit her so +early this morning? He loses no time, i' faith! But he had better keep +out of the way of the Wasp, if the Princess gives him many of those +glances of hers, half over her shoulder--you know her way, Otto." + +At this the first officer reiterated his jest about his hand on Johann's +shoulder, being of that mighty faction which cannot originate the +smallest joke without immediately wearing it to the bone. + +The secretary began to be angry. His temper was not long at the longest. +He had not thought of having to submit to this when he became a +secretary. + +"I am quite willing, sir captain," he said, with haughty reserve, "that +your hand should be--where it ought to be--on your sword handle. For in +that case my hand will also be on mine, and very much at your service. +But in my country such liberties are not taken between strangers!" + +"What?" cried Otto the guardsman, "do men not embrace one another when +they meet, and kiss each other on either cheek at parting? How then, so +mighty particular about hands on shoulders? Answer me that, my young +secretary." + +"For me," said Johann, instantly losing his head in the hotness of his +indignation, "I would have you know that I only kiss ladies, or permit +them to kiss me!" + +The Courtlander and the Bor-Russian roared unanimously. + +"Is he not precious beyond words, this youngling, eh, Paul Strelitz?" +cried the first. "I would we had him at our table of mess. What would +our commander say to that? How he would gobble and glower? 'As for me, I +only kiss ladies!' Can you imagine it, Paul?" + +But just then there came a clatter of horse's hoofs across the wide +spaces of the palace front, into which the bright forenoon sun was now +beating, and a lady of tall figure and a head all a-ripple with sunny, +golden curls dashed up at a canter, the stones spraying forward and +outward as she reined her horse sharply with her hands low. + +"The Princess Margaret!" said the first officer. "Stand to it, Paul. Be +a man, secretary, and hold your tongue." + +The two officers saluted stiffly, and the lady looked about for some one +to help her to descend. She observed Johann standing, still haughtily +indignant, by the gate. + +"Come hither!" she said, beckoning with her finger. + +"Give me your hand!" she commanded. + +The secretary gave it awkwardly, and the Princess plumped rather sharply +to the ground. + +"What! Do they not teach you how to help ladies to alight in +Plassenburg?" queried the Princess. "You accompany the new ambassador, +do you not?" + +"You are the first I ever helped in my life," said Johann simply. +"Mostly----" + +"What! I am the first? You jest. It is not possible. There are many +ladies in Plassenburg, and I doubt not they have noted and distinguished +a handsome youth like you." + +The secretary shook his head. + +"Not so," he said, smiling; "I have never been so remarked by any lady +in Plassenburg in my life." + +The Courtlander, standing stiff at the salute, turned his head the +least fraction of an inch towards Paul Strelitz the Bor-Russian. + +"He sticks to it. Lord! I wish that I could lie like that! I would make +my fortune in a trice," he muttered. "'As for me, I only kiss ladies!' +Did you hear him, Paul?" + +"I hear him. He lies like an archbishop--a divine liar," muttered the +Bor-Russian under his breath. + +"Well, at any rate," said the Princess, never taking her eyes off the +young man's face, "you will be good enough to escort me to the Prince's +room." + +"I am going there myself," said the secretary curtly. + +"Certainly they do not teach you to say pretty things to ladies," +answered the Princess. "I know many that could have bettered that speech +without stressing themselves. Yet, after all, I know not but I like your +blunt way best!" she added, after a pause, again smiling upon him. + +As she took the young man's arm, a cavalier suddenly dashed up on a +smoking horse, which had evidently been ridden to his limit. He was of +middle size, of a figure exceedingly elegant, and dressed in the highest +fashion. He wore a suit of black velvet with yellow points and narrow +braidings also of yellow, a broad golden sash girt his waist, his face +was handsome, and his mustachios long, fierce, and curling. His eye +glittered like that of a snake, with a steady chill sheen, unpleasant to +linger upon. He swung from his horse, casting the reins to the nearest +soldier, who happened to be our Courtland officer Otto, and sprang up +the steps after the Princess and her young escort. + +"Princess," he said hastily, "Princess Margaret, I beg your pardon most +humbly that I have been so unfortunate as to be late in my attendance +upon you. The Prince sent for me at the critical moment, and I was bound +to obey. May I now have the honour of conducting you to the summer +parlour?" + +The Princess turned carelessly, or rather, to tell it exactly, she +turned her head a little back over her shoulder with a beautiful gesture +peculiar to herself. + +"I thank you," she said coldly, "I have already requested this gentleman +to escort me. I shall not need you, Prince Ivan." + +And she went in, bending graciously and even confidingly towards the +secretary, on whose arm her hand reposed. + +The cavalier in banded yellow stood a moment with an expression on his +face at once humorous and malevolent. + +He gazed after the pair till the door swung to and they disappeared. +Then he turned bitterly towards the nearest officer. + +"Tell me," he said, "who is the lout in black, that looks like a +priest-cub out for a holiday?" + +"He is the secretary of the embassy of Plassenburg," said Otto the +guardsman, restraining a desire to put his information in another form. +He did not love this imperious cavalier; he was a Courtlander and +holding a Muscovite's horse. The conjunction brought something into his +throat. + +"Ha," said the young man in black and yellow, still gazing at the closed +door, "I think I shall go into the rose-garden; I may have something +further to say to the most honourable the secretary of the embassy of +Plassenburg!" And summoning the officer with a curt monosyllable to +bring his horse, he mounted and rode off. + +"I wonder he did not give me a silver groat," said the Courtlander. "The +secretary sparrow may be dainty and kiss only ladies, but this Prince of +Muscovy has not pretty manners. I hope he does not marry the Princess +after all." + +"Not with her goodwill, I warrant," said Paul Strelitz; "either you or I +would have a better chance, unless our Prince Ludwig compel her to it +for the good of the State!" + +"Prince Wasp seemed somewhat disturbed in his mind," said the +Courtlander, chuckling. "I wish I were on guard in the rose-garden to +see the meeting of Master Prettyman and his Royal Highness the Hornet of +Muscovy!" + +[Illustration: "He gazed after the pair till the door swung to." +[_Page 46_]] + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +H.R.H. THE PRINCESS IMPETUOSITY + + +The Princess Margaret spoke low and confidentially to the secretary of +embassy as they paced along. Johann Pyrmont felt correspondingly +awkward. For one thing, the pressure of the Princess's hand upon his arm +distracted him. He longed to have her on his other side. + +"You are noble?" she said, with a look down at him. + +"Of course!" said the secretary quickly. The opposite had never occurred +to him. He had not considered the pedigree of travelling merchants or +Hamburg architects. + +The Princess thought it was not at all of course, but continued-- + +"I understand--you would learn diplomacy under a man so wise as the High +Councillor von Dessauer. I have heard of such sacrifices. My brother, +who is very learned, went to Italy, and they say (though he only laughs +when I ask him) worked with his hands in one of the places where they +print the new sort of books instead of writing them. Is it not +wonderful?" + +"And he is so brave," said the secretary, whose interest suddenly +increased; "he won the tournament yesterday, did he not? I saw you give +him the crown of bay. I had not thought so brave a man could be learned +also." + +"Oh, my brother has all the perfections, yet thinks more of every +shaveling monk and unfledged chorister than of himself. I will introduce +you to him now. I am a pet of his. You will love him, too--when you +know him, that is!" + +"Devoutly do I hope so!" said the secretary under his breath. + +But the Princess heard him. + +"Of course you will," she said gaily; "I love him, therefore so will +you!" + +"An agreeable princess--I shall get on well with her!" thought Johann +Pyrmont. Then the attention of his companion flagged and she was silent +and distrait for a little, as they paced through courts and colonnades +which to the secretary seemed interminable. The Princess silently +indicated the way by a pressure upon his arm which was almost more than +friendly. + +"We walk well together," she said presently, rousing herself from her +reverie. + +"Yes," answered the secretary, who was thinking that surely it was a +long way to the summer parlour, where he was to meet the Prince. + +"I fear," said the Princess Margaret quaintly, "that you are often in +the habit of walking with ladies! Your step agrees so well with mine!" + +"I never walk with any others," the secretary answered without thought. + +"What?" cried the Princess, quickly taking away her hand, "and you swore +to me even now that you never helped a lady from her horse in your +life!" + +It was an _impasse_, and the secretary, recalled to himself, blushed +deeply. + +"I see so few ladies," he stammered, in a tremor lest he should have +betrayed himself. "I live in the country--only my maid----" + +"Heaven's own sunshine!" cried the Princess. "Have the pretty young men +of Plassenburg maids and tirewomen? Small wonder that so few of them +ever visit us! No blame that you stay in that happy country!" + +The secretary recovered his presence of mind rapidly. + +"I mean," he explained, "the old woman Bette, my nurse, who, though now +I am grown up, comes every night to see that I have all I want and to +fold my clothes. I have no other women about me." + +"You are sure that Bette, who comes for your clothes and to see that you +have all you want, is old?" persisted the Princess, keeping her eyes +sharply upon her companion. + +"She is so old that I never remember her to have been any younger," +replied the secretary, with an air of engaging candour. + +"I believe you," cried the outspoken Princess; "no one can lie with such +eyes. Strange that I should have liked you from the first. Stranger that +in an hour I should tell you so. Your arm!" + +The secretary immediately put his hand within the arm of the Princess +Margaret, who turned upon him instantly in great astonishment. + +"Is that also a Plassenburg custom?" she said sharply. "Was it old Bette +who taught you thus to take a lady's arm? It is otherwise thought of in +our ignorant Courtland!" + +The young man blushed and looked down. + +"I am sorry," he said; "it is a common fashion with us. I crave your +pardon if in aught I have offended." + +The Princess Margaret looked quizzically at her companion. + +"I' faith," she said, "I have ever had a curiosity about foreign +customs. This one I find not amiss. Do it again!" + +And with her own princessly hand she took Johann's slender brown fingers +and placed them upon her arm. + +"These are fitter for the pen than for the sword!" she said, a saying +which pleased the owner of them but little. + +The Courtlander Otto, who had been on guard at the gate, had meantime +been relieved, and now followed the pair through the corridors to the +summer palace upon an errand which he had speciously invented. + +At this point he stood astonished. + +"I would that Prince Wasp were here. We should see his sting. He is +indeed a marvel, this fellow of Plassenburg. Glad am I that he does not +know little Lenchen up in the Kaiser Platz. No one of us would have a +maid to his name, if this gamester abode in Courtland long and made the +running in this style!" + +The Princess and her squire now went out into the open air. For she had +led him by devious ways almost round the entire square of the palace +buildings. They passed into a thick avenue of acacias and yews, through +the arcades of which they walked silently. + +For the Princess was content, and the secretary afraid of making any +more mistakes. So he let the foreign custom go at what it might be +worth, knowing that if he tried to better it, ten to one a worse thing +might befall. + +"I have changed my mind," said the Princess, suddenly stopping and +turning upon her companion; "I shall not introduce you to my brother. If +you come from the Ambassador, you must have matters of importance to +speak of. I will rest me here in an arbour and come in later. Then, if +you are good, you shall perhaps be permitted to reconduct me to my +lodging, and as we go, teach me any other pleasant foreign customs!" + +The secretary bowed, but kept his eyes on the ground. + +"You do not say that you are glad," cried the Princess, coming +impulsively a step nearer. "I tell you there is not one youth----but no +matter. I see that it is your innocence, and I am not sure that I do not +like you the better for it." + +Behind an evergreen, Otto the Courtlander nearly discovered himself at +this declaration. + +"His innocence--magnificent Karl the Great! His Plassenburger's +innocence--God wot! He will not die of it, but he may be the death of +me. Oh, for the opinion of Prince Wasp of Muscovy upon such innocence." + +"Come," said the Princess, holding out her hands, "bid me goodbye as you +do in your country. There is the Prince my brother's horse at the door. +You must hasten, or he will be gone ere you do your message." + +At this the heart of the youth gave a great leap. + +"The Prince!" he cried, "he will be gone!" And would have bolted off +without a word. + +"Never mind the Prince--think of me," commanded the Princess, stamping +her foot. "Give me your hand. I am not accustomed to ask twice. Bid me +goodbye." + +With his eyes on the white charger by the door the secretary hastily +took the Princess by both hands. Then, with his mind still upon the +departing Prince, he drew her impulsively towards him, kissed her +swiftly upon both cheeks, and finished by imprinting his lips heartily +upon her mouth! + +Then, still with swift impulse and an ardent glance upward at the palace +front, he ran in the direction of the steps of the summer palace. + +The Princess Margaret stood rooted to the ground. A flush of shame, +anger, or some other violent emotion rose to her brow and stayed there. + +Then she called to mind the straightforward unclouded eyes, the clear +innocence of the youth's brow, and the smile came back to her lips. + +"After all, it is doubtless only his foreign custom," she mused. Then, +after a pause, "I like foreign customs," she added, "they are +interesting to learn!" + +Behind his tree the Courtlander stood gasping with astonishment, as well +he might. + +"God never made such a fellow," he said to himself. "Well might he say +he never kissed any but ladies. Such abilities were lost upon mere men. +An hour's acquaintance--nay, less--and he hath kissed the Princess +Margaret upon the mouth. And she, instead of shrieking and calling the +guard to have the insulter thrust into the darkest dungeon, falls to +musing and smiling. A devil of a secretary this! Of a certainty I must +have little Lenchen out of town!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JOHANN IN THE SUMMER PALACE + + +At the door of the summer palace not a soul was on guard. A great quiet +surrounded it. The secretary could hear the gentle lapping of the river +over the parapet, for the little pavilion had been erected overhanging +the water, and the leaves of the linden-trees rustled above. These last +were still clamorous with the hum of bees, whose busy wings gave forth a +sort of dull booming roar, comparable only to the distant noise of +breakers when a roller curls slowly over and runs league-long down the +sandy beach. + +It was with a beating heart that Johann Pyrmont knocked. + +"Enter!" said a voice within, with startling suddenness. + +And opening the door and grasping his papers, the secretary suddenly +found himself in the presence of the hero of the tournament. + +The Prince was standing by a desk covered with books and papers. In his +hand he held a quill, wherewith he had been writing in a great book +which lay on a shelf at his elbow. For a moment the secretary could not +reconcile this monkish occupation with his idea of the gallant +white-plumed knight whom he had seen flash athwart the lists, driving a +clean furrow through the hostile ranks with his single spear. + +But he remembered his sister's description, and looked at him with the +reverence of the time for one to whom all knowledge was open. + +"You have business with me, young sir?" said the Prince courteously, +turning upon the youth a regard full of dignity and condescension. The +knees of Johann Pyrmont trembled. For a full score of moments his tongue +refused its office. + +"I come," he said at last, "to convey these documents to the noble +Prince of Courtland and Wilna." He gained courage as he spoke, for he +had carefully rehearsed this speech to Dessauer. "I am acting as +secretary to the Ambassador--in lieu of a better. These are the +proposals concerning alliance between the realms proposed by our late +master, the Prince Karl, before his death; and now, it is hoped, to be +ratified and carried out between Courtland and Plassenburg under his +successors, the Princess Helene and her husband." + +The tall fair-haired Prince listened carefully. His luminous and steady +eyes seemed to pierce through every disguise and to read the truth in +the heart of the young architect-secretary. He took the papers from the +hand of Johann Pyrmont, and laid them on a desk beside him, without, +however, breaking the seals. + +"I will gladly take charge of such proposals. They do as much credit, I +doubt not, to the sagacity of the late Prince, your great master, as to +the kindness and good-feeling of our present noble rulers. But where is +the Ambassador? I had hoped to see High Councillor von Dessauer for my +own sake, as well as because of the ancient kindliness and +correspondence that there was between him and my brother." + +"His brother," thought the secretary. "I did not know he had a +brother--a lad, I suppose, in whom Dessauer hath an interest. He is ever +considerate to the young!" But aloud he answered, "I grieve to tell you, +my lord, that the High Councillor von Dessauer is not able to leave his +bed this morning. He caught a chill yesterday, either riding hither or +at the tourney, and it hath induced an old trouble which no leech has +hitherto been skilful enough to heal entirely. He will, I fear, be kept +close in his room for several days." + +"I also am grieved," said the Prince, with grave regret, seeing the +youth's agitation, and liking him for it. "I am glad he keeps the art to +make himself so beloved. It is one as useful as it is unusual in a +diplomatist!" + +Then with a quick change of subject habitual to the man, he said, "How +found you your way hither? The corridors are both confusing and +intricate, and the guards ordinarily somewhat exacting." + +The tall youth smiled. + +"I was in the best hands," he said. "Your sister, the Princess Margaret, +was good enough to direct me, being on her way to her own apartment." + +"Ah!" muttered the Prince, smiling as if he knew his sister, "this is +the way to the Princess's apartments, is it? The Moscow road to Rome, I +wot!" + +He said no more, but stood regarding the youth, whose blushes came and +went as he stood irresolute before him. + +"A modest lad," said the Prince to himself; "this ingenuousness is +particularly charming in a secretary of legation. I must see more of +him." + +Suddenly a thought crossed his mind. + +"Why, did I not hear that you came to us by way of Kernsberg?" he said. + +The blushes ceased and a certain pallor showed under the tan which +overspread the young man's face as the Prince continued to gaze fixedly +at him. He could only bow in assent. + +"Then, doubtless, you would see the Duchess Joan?" he continued. "Is she +very beautiful? They say so." + +"I do not think so. I never thought about it at all!" answered the +secretary. Suddenly he found himself plunged into deep waters, just as +he had seen the port of safety before him. + +The Prince laughed, throwing back his head a little. + +"That is surely a strange story to bring here to Courtland," he said, +"whither the lady is to come as a bride ere long! Especially strange to +tell to me, who----" + +"I ask your pardon," said Johann Pyrmont; "your Highness must bear with +me. I have never done an errand of such moment before, having mostly +spent my life among soldiers and ("he was on his guard now") in a +fortress. For diplomacy and word-play I have no skill--no, nor any +liking!" + +"You have chosen your trade strangely, then," smiled the Prince, "to +proclaim such tastes. Wherefore are you not a soldier?" + +"I am! I am!" cried Johann eagerly; "at least, as much as it is allowed +to one of my--of my strength to be." + +"Can you fence?" asked the Prince, "or play with the broad blade?" + +"I can do both!" + +"Then," continued his inquisitor, "you must surely have tried yourself +against the Duchess Joan. They say she has wonderful skill. Joan of the +Sword Hand, I have heard her called. You have often fenced with her?" + +"No," said the secretary, truthfully, "I have never fenced with the +Duchess Joan." + +"So," said the Prince, evidently in considerable surprise; "then you +have certainly often seen her fence?" + +"I have never seen the Duchess fence, but I have often seen others fence +with her." + +"You practise casuistry, surely," cried the Prince. "I do not quite +follow the distinction." + +But, nevertheless, the secretary knew that the difference existed. He +would have given all the proceeds and emoluments of his office to escape +at this moment, but the eye of the Prince was too steady. + +"I doubt not, young sir," he continued, "that you were one of the army +of admirers which, they say, continually surrounds the Duchess of +Hohenstein!" + +"Indeed, you are in great error, my lord," said Johann Pyrmont, with +much earnestness and obvious sincerity; "I never said one single word of +love to the Lady Joan--no, nor to any other woman!" + +"No," said a new voice from the doorway, that of the Princess Margaret, +"but doubtless you took great pleasure in teaching them foreign customs. +And I am persuaded you did it very well, too!" + +The Prince left his desk for the first time and came smilingly towards +his sister. As he stooped to kiss her hand, Johann observed that his +hair seemed already to be thin upon the top of his head. + +"He is young to be growing bald," he said to himself; "but, after all" +(with a sigh), "that does not matter in a man so noble of mien and in +every way so great a prince." + +The impulsive Princess Margaret scarcely permitted her hand to be +kissed. She threw her arms warmly about her brother's neck, and then as +quickly releasing him, she turned to the secretary, who stood +deferentially looking out at the window, that he might not observe the +meeting of brother and sister. + +"I told you he was my favourite brother, and that you would love him, +too," she said. "You must leave your dull Plassenburg and come to +Courtland. I, the Princess, ask you. Do you promise?" + +"I think I shall come again to Courtland," answered the secretary very +gravely. + +"This young man knows the Duchess Joan of Hohenstein," said the Prince, +still smiling quietly; "but I do not think he admires her very +greatly--an opinion he had better keep to himself if he would have a +quiet life of it in Courtland!" + +"Indeed," said the Princess brusquely. "I wonder not at it. I hear she +is a forward minx, and at any rate she shall never lord it over me. I +will run away with a dog-whipper first." + +"Your husband would have occasion for the exercise of his art, sister +mine!" said the Prince. "But, indeed, you must not begin by misliking +the poor young maid that will find herself so far from home." + +"Oh," cried the Princess, laughing outright, "I mislike her not a whit. +But there is no reason in the world why, because you are all ready to +fall down and worship, this young man or any other should be compelled +to do likewise." + +And right princess-like she looked as she pouted her proud little lips +and with her foot patted the polished oak. + +"But," she went on again to her brother, "your poor beast out there hath +almost fretted himself into ribands by this time. If you have done with +this noble youth, I have a fancy to hear him tell of the countries +wherein he has sojourned. And, in addition, I have promised to show him +the carp in the ponds. You have surely given him a great enough dose of +diplomatics and canon law by this time. You have, it seems to me, spent +half the day in each other's society." + +"On the contrary," returned the Prince, smiling again, but going towards +the desk to put away the papers which Dessauer's secretary had +brought--"on the contrary, we talked almost solely about women--a +subject not uncommon when man meets man." + +"But somewhat out of keeping with the dignity of your calling, my +brother!" said the Princess pointedly. + +"And wherefore?" he said, turning quickly with the papers still in his +hand. "If to guide, to advise, to rule, are of my profession, surely to +speak of women, who are the more important half of the human race, +cannot be foreign to my calling!" + +"Come," she said, hearing the words without attending to the sense, "I +also like things foreign. The noble secretary has promised to teach me +some more of them!" + +The tolerant Prince laughed. He was evidently accustomed to his sister's +whims, and, knowing how perfectly harmless they were, he never +interfered with them. + +"A good day to you," he said to the young man, by way of dismissal. "If +I do not see you again before you leave, you must promise me to come +back to the wedding of the Duchess Johanna. In that event you must do +me the honour to be my guest on that occasion." + +The red flooded back to Johann's cheek. + +"I thank you," he said, bowing; "I _will_ come back to the wedding of +the Duchess Joan." + +"And you promise to be my guest? I insist upon it," continued the kindly +Prince, willing to gratify his sister, who was smiling approval, "I +insist that you shall let me be your host." + +"I hope to be your guest, most noble Prince," said the secretary, +looking up at him quickly as he went through the door. + +It was a singular look. For a moment it checked and astonished the +Prince so much that he stood still on the threshold. + +"Where have I seen a look like that before?" he mused, as he cast his +memory back into the past without success. "Surely never on any man's +face?" + +Which, after all, was likely enough. + +Then putting the matter aside as curious, but of no consequence, the +Prince rode away towards that part of the city from which the towers of +the minster loomed up. A couple of priests bowed low before him as he +passed, and the people standing still to watch his broad shoulders and +erect carriage, said one to the other, "Alas! alas! the truest Prince of +them all--to be thus thrown away!" + +And these were the words which the secretary heard from a couple of +guards who talked at the gate of the rose-garden, as they, too, stood +looking after the Prince. + +"Wait," said Johann Pyrmont to himself; "wait, I will yet show them +whether he is thrown away or not." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ROSE GARDEN + + +The rose garden of the summer palace of Courtland was a paradise made +for lovers' whisperings. Even now, when the chills of autumn had begun +to blow through its bowers, it was over-clambered with late-blooming +flowers. Its bowers were creeper-tangled. Trees met over paths bedded +with fallen petals, making a shade in sunshine, a shelter in rain, and +delightful in both. + +It was natural that so fair a Princess, taking such a sudden fancy to a +young man, should find her way where the shade was deepest and the +labyrinth most entangled. + +But this secretary Johann of ours, being creditably hard of heart, would +far rather have hied him straight back to old Dessauer with his news. +More than anything he desired to be alone, that he might think over the +events of the morning. + +But the Princess Margaret had quite other intentions. + +"Do you know," she began, "that I might well have lodged you in a +dungeon cell for that which in another had been dire insolence?" + +They were pacing a long dusky avenue of tall yew-trees. The secretary +turned towards her the blank look of one whose thoughts have been far +away. But the Princess rattled on, heedless of his mood. + +"Nevertheless, I forgive you," she said; "after all, I myself asked you +to teach me your foreign customs. If any one be to blame, it is I. But +one thing I would impress upon you, sir secretary: do not practise +these outland peculiarities before my brothers. Either of them might +look with prejudice upon such customs being observed generally +throughout the city. I came back chiefly to warn you. We do not want +that handsome head of yours (which I admit is well enough in its way, +as, being a man, you are doubtless aware) to be taken off and stuck on a +pole over the Strasburg Gate!" + +It was with an effort that the secretary detached himself sufficiently +from his reveries upon the interview in the summer palace to understand +what the Princess was driving at. + +"All this mighty pother, just because I kissed her on the cheek," he +thought. "A Princess of Courtland is no such mighty thing--and why +should I not?--Oh, of course, I had forgotten again. I am not now the +person I was." + +But how can we tell with what infinite condescension the Princess took +the young man's hand and read his fortune, dwelling frowningly on the +lines of love and life? + +"You have too pretty a hand for a man," she said; "why is it hard here +and here?" + +"That is from the sword grip," said the secretary, with no small pride. + +"Do you, then, fence well? I wish I could see you," she cried, clapping +her hands. "How splendid it would be to see a bout between you and +Prince Wasp--that is, the Prince Ivan of Muscovy, I mean. He is a great +fencer, and also desires to be a great friend of mine. He would give +something to be sitting here teaching me how they take hands and bid +each other goodbye in Bearland. They rub noses, I have heard say, a +custom which, to my thinking, would be more provocative than +satisfactory. I like your Plassenburg fashion better." + +Whereat, of course there was nothing for it but that the secretary +should arouse himself out of his reverie and do his part. If the +Princess of Courtland chose to amuse herself with him, well, it was +harmless on either side--even more so than she knew. Soon he would be +far away. Meanwhile he must not comport himself like a puking fool. + +"I think in somewise it were possible to improve upon the customs even +of Plassenburg," said the Princess Margaret, after certain experiments; +"but tell me, since you say that we are to be friends, and I have +admitted your plea, what is your fortune? Nay, do you know that I do not +even know your name--at least, not from your own lips." + +For, headlong as she had proved herself in making love, yet a vein of +Baltic practicality was hidden beneath the princess's impetuosity. + +"My father was the Count von Löen, and I am his heir!" said the +secretary carefully; "but I do not usually call myself so. There are +reasons why I should not." + +Which there were, indeed--grave reasons, too. + +"Then you are the Count von Löen?" said the Princess. "I seem to have +heard that name somewhere before. Tell me, are you the Count von Löen?" + +"I am certainly the heir to that title," said the secretary, grilling +within and wishing himself a thousand miles away. + +"I must go directly and tell my brother. He will be back from the +cathedral by this time. I am sure he did not know. And the estates--a +little involved, doubtless, like those of most well-born folk in these +ill days? Are they in your sole right?" + +"The estates are extensive. They are not encumbered so far as I know. +They are all in my own right," explained the newly styled Count with +perfect truth. But within he was saying, "God help me! I get deeper and +deeper. What a whirling chaos a single lie leads one into! Heaven give +me speedy succour out of this!" And as he thought of his troubles, the +noble count, the swordsman, the learned secretary, could scarce restrain +a desire to break out into hysterical sobbing. + +A new thought seemed to strike the Princess as he was speaking. + +"But so young, so handsome," she murmured, "so apt a pupil at love!" +Then aloud she said, "You are not deceiving me? You are not already +betrothed?" + +"Not to any woman!" said the deceitful Count, picking his words with +exactness. + +The gay laugh of the Princess rang out prompt as an echo. + +"I did not expect you to be engaged to a man!" she cried. "But now +conduct me to the entrance of my chambers" (here she reached him her +hand). "I like you," she added frankly, looking at him with unflinching +eyes. "I am of the house of Courtland, and we are accustomed to say what +we think--the women of us especially. And sooner than carry out this +wretched contract and marry the Prince Wasp, I will do even as I said to +my brother, I will run away and wed a dog-whipper! But perhaps I may do +better than either!" she said in her heart, nodding determinedly as she +looked at the handsome youth before her, who now stood with his eyes +downcast upon the ground. + +They were almost out of the yew-tree walk, and the voice of the Princess +carried far, like that of most very impulsive persons. It reached the +ears of a gay young fashionable, who had just dismounted at the gate +which led from the rose garden into the wing of the palace inhabited by +the Princess Margaret and her suite. + +"Now," said the Princess, "I will show you how apt a pupil I make. Tell +me whether this is according to the best traditions of Plassenburg!" And +taking his face between her hands she kissed him rapidly upon either +cheek and then upon the lips. + +"There!" she said, "I wonder what my noble brothers would say to that! I +will show them that Margaret of Courtland can choose both whom she will +kiss and whom she will marry!" + +And flashing away from him like a bright-winged bird she fled upward +into her chambers. Then, somewhat dazed by the rapid succession of +emotions, Johann the Secretary stepped out of the green gloom of the +yew-tree walk into the broad glare of the September sun and found +himself face to face with Prince Wasp. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PRINCE WASP + + +Now Ivan, Prince of Muscovy, had business in Courtland very clear and +distinct. He came to woo the Princess Margaret, which being done, he +wished to be gone. There was on his side the certainty of an excellent +fortune, a possible succession, and, in any case, a pretty and wilful +wife. But as he thought on that last the Wasp smiled to himself. In +Moscow there were many ways, once he had her there, of taming the most +wilful of wives. + +As to the inheritance--well, it was true there were two lives between; +but one of these, in Prince Ivan's mind, was as good as nought, and the +other----In addition, the marriage had been arranged by their several +fathers, though not under the same penalty as that which threatened the +Prince of Courtland and Joan Duchess of Hohenstein. + +Prince Wasp had not favourably impressed the family at the palace. His +manners had the strident edge and blatant self-assertion of one who, +unlicensed at home, has been flattered abroad, deferred to everywhere, +and accustomed to his own way in all things. Nevertheless, Ivan had +managed to make himself popular with the townsfolk, on account of the +largesse which he lavished and the custom which his numerous suite +brought to the city. Specially, he had been successful in attaching the +rabble of the place to his cause; and already he had headed off two +other wooers who had come from the south to solicit the smiles of the +Princess Margaret. + +"So," he said, as he faced the secretary, now somewhat compositely +styled--Johann, Count von Löen, "so, young springald, you think to court +a foolish princess. You play upon her with your pretty words and +graceful compliments. That is an agreeable relaxation enough. It passes +the time better than fumbling with papers in front of an escritoire. +Only--you have in addition to reckon with me, Ivan, hereditary Prince of +Muscovy." + +And with a sweep of his hand across his body he drew his sword from its +sheath. + +The sword of the young secretary came into his hand with equal +swiftness. But he answered nothing. A curious feeling of detachment +crept over him. He had held the bare sword before in presence of an +enemy, but never till now unsupported. + +"I do you the honour to suppose you noble," said Prince Wasp, "otherwise +I should have you flogged by my lacqueys and thrown into the town ditch. +I have informed you of my name and pretensions to the hand of the +Princess Margaret, whom you have insulted. I pray you give me yours in +return." + +"I am called Johann, Count von Löen," answered the secretary as curtly +as possible. + +"Pardon the doubt which is in my mind," said the Prince of Muscovy, with +a black sneering bitterness characteristic of him, "but though I am well +versed in all the noble families of the north, and especially in those +of Plassenburg, where I resided a full year in the late Prince's time, I +am not acquainted with any such title." + +"Nevertheless, it is mine by right and by birthright," retorted the +secretary, "as I am well prepared to maintain with my sword in the +meantime. And, after, you can assure yourself from the mouth of the High +State's Councillor Dessauer that the name and style are mine. Your +ignorance, however, need not defer your chastisement." + +"Follow me, Count von Löen," said the Prince; "I am too anxious to deal +with your insolence as it deserves to quarrel as to names or titles, +legal or illegitimate. My quarrel is with your fascinating body and +prettyish face, the beauty of which I will presently improve with some +good Northland steel." + +And with his lithe and springy walk the Prince of Muscovy passed again +along the alleys of the rose garden till he reached the first open +space, where he turned upon the secretary. + +"We are arrived," he said; "our business is so pressing, and will be so +quickly finished, that there is no need for the formality of seconds. +Though I honour you by crossing my sword with yours, it is a mere +formality. I have such skill of the weapon, as I daresay report has told +you, that you may consider yourself dead already. I look upon your +chastisement no more seriously than I might the killing of a fly that +has vexed me with its buzzing. Guard!" + +But Johann Pyrmont had been trained in a school which permitted no such +windy preludes, and with the fencer's smile on his face he kept his +silence. His sword would answer all such boastings, and that in good +time. + +And so it fell out. + +From the very first crossing of the swords Prince Wasp found himself +opposed by a quicker eye, a firmer wrist, a method and science +infinitely superior to his own. His most dashing attack was repelled +with apparent ease, yet with a subtlety which interposed nothing but the +most delicate of guards and parries between Prince Ivan and victory. +This gradually infuriated the Prince, till suddenly losing his temper he +stamped his foot in anger and rushed upon his foe with the true +Muscovite fire. + +Then, indeed, had Johann need of all his most constant practice with the +sword, for the sting of the Wasp flashed to kill as he struck straight +at the heart of his foe. + +[Illustration: "The Prince staggered." [_Page 67_]] + +But lo! the blade was turned aside, the long-delayed answering thrust +glittered out, and the secretary's sword stood a couple of handbreadths +in the boaster's shoulder. + +With an effort Johann recovered his blade and stood ready for the +ripost; but the wound was more than enough. The Prince staggered, cried +out some unintelligible words in the Muscovite language, and pitched +forward slowly on his face among the trampled leaves and blown rose +petals of the palace garden. + +The secretary grew paler than his wont, and ran to lift his fallen +enemy. But, all unseen, other eyes had watched the combat, and from the +door by which they had entered, and from behind the trees of the +surrounding glade, there came the noise of pounding footsteps and fierce +cries of "Seize him! Kill him! Tear him to pieces! He has slain the good +Prince, the friend of the people! The Prince Ivan is dead!" + +And ere the secretary could touch the body of his unconscious foe, or +assure himself concerning his wound, he found himself surrounded by a +yelling crowd of city loafers and gallows'-rats, many of them rag-clad, +others habited in heterogeneous scraps of cast-off clothing, or articles +snatched from clothes-lines and bleaching greens--long-mourned, +doubtless, by the good wives of Courtland. + +The secretary eyed this unkempt horde with haughty scorn, and his +fearless attitude, as he striped his stained sword through his +handkerchief and threw the linen away, had something to do with the fact +that the rabble halted at the distance of half-a-dozen yards and for +many minutes contented themselves with hurling oaths and imprecations at +him. Johann Pyrmont kept his sword in his hand and stood by the body of +his fallen foe in disdainful silence till the arrival of fresh +contingents through the gate aroused the halting spirit of the crowd. +Knives and sword-blades began to gleam here and there in grimy hands +where at first there had been only staves and chance-snatched gauds of +iron. + +"At him! Down with him! He can only strike once!" These and similar +cries inspirited the rabble of Courtland, great haters of the +Plassenburg and the Teutonic west, to rush in and make an end. + +At last they did come on, not all together, but in irregular +undisciplined rushes. Johann's sword streaked out this way and that. +There was an answering cry of pain, a turmoil among the assailants as a +wounded man whirled his way backward out of the press. But this could +not last for long. The odds were too great. The droning roar of hate +from the edges of the crowd grew louder as new and ever newer accretions +joined themselves to its changing fringes. + +Then suddenly came a voice. "Back, on your lives, dogs and traitors! +Germans to the rescue! Danes, Teuts, Northmen to the rescue!" + +Following the direction of the sound, Johann saw a young man drive +through the press, his sword bare in his hand, his eyes glittering with +excitement. It was the Danish prisoner of the guard-hall at Kernsberg, +that same Sparhawk who had fought with Werner von Orseln. + +The crowd stared back and forth betwixt him and that other whom he came +to succour. Far more than ever his extraordinary likeness to the +secretary appeared. Apparent enough at any time, it was accentuated now +by similarity of clothing. For, like Johann Pyrmont, the Sparhawk was +attired in a black doublet and trunk hose of scholastic cut, and as they +stood back to back, little difference could be noted between them, save +that the newcomer was a trifle the taller. + +"Saint Michael and all holy angels!" cried the leader of the crowd, "can +it be that there are scores of these Plassenburg black crows in +Courtland, slaying whom they will? Here be two of them as like as two +peas, or a couple of earthen pipkins from the same potter's wheel!" + +The Dane flung a word over his shoulder to his companion. + +"Pardon me, your grace," said the Sparhawk, "if I stand back to back +with you. They are dangerous. We must watch well for any chance of +escape." + +The secretary did not answer to this strange style of address, but +placed himself back to back with his ally, and their two bright blades +waved every way. Only that of Johann Pyrmont was already reddened +well-nigh half its length. + +A second time the courage of the crowd worked itself up, and they came +on. + +"Death to the Russ, to the lovers of Russians!" cried the Sparhawk, and +his blade dealt thrusts right and left. But the pressure increased every +moment. Those behind cried, "Kill them!" For they were out of reach of +those two shining streaks of steel. Those before would gladly have +fallen behind, but could not for the forward thrust of their friends. +Still the ring narrowed, and the pair of gallant fighters would +doubtlessly have been swept away had not a diversion come to alter the +face of things. + +Out of the gate which led to the wing of the palace occupied by the +Princess Margaret burst a little company of halberdiers, at sight of +whom the crowd gave suddenly back. The Princess herself was with them. + +"Take all prisoners, and bring them within," she cried. "Well you know +that my brother is from home, or you dare not thus brawl in the very +precincts of the palace!" + +And at her words the soldiers advanced rapidly. A further diversion was +caused by the Sparhawk suddenly cleaving a way through the crowd and +setting off at full speed in the direction of the river. Whereupon the +rabble, glad to combine personal safety with the pleasures of the chase, +took to their heels after him. But, light and unexpected in motion as +his namesake, the Sparhawk skimmed down the alleys, darted sideways +through gates which he shut behind him with a clash of iron, and finally +plunged into the green rush of the Alla, swimming safe and unhurt to the +further shore, whither, in the absence of boats at this particular spot, +none could pursue him. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE KISS OF THE PRINCESS MARGARET + + +The Princess and her guard were left alone with the secretary and the +unconscious body of the Prince of Muscovy. + +"Sirrah," she cried severely to the former, "is this the first use you +make of our hospitality, thus to brawl in the street underneath my very +windows with our noble guest the Prince Ivan? Take him to my brother's +room, and keep him safely there to await our lord's return. We shall see +what the Prince will say to this. And as for this wounded man, take him +to his own apartments, and let a surgeon be sent to him. Only not in too +great a hurry!" she added as an afterthought to the commander of her +little company of palace guards. + +So, merely detailing half a dozen to carry the Prince to his chambers, +the captain of the guard conducted the secretary to the very room in +which an hour before he had met the brother of the Princess. Here he was +confined, with a couple of guards at the door. Nor had he been long shut +up before he heard the quick step of the Princess coming along the +passage-way. He could distinguish it a long way off, for the summer +palace was built mostly of wood, and every sound was clearly audible. + +"So," she said, as soon as the door was shut, "you have killed Prince +Wasp!" + +"I trust not," said the secretary gravely; "I meant only to wound him. +But as he attacked me I could not do otherwise than defend myself." + +"Tut," cried the Princess, "I hope you have killed him. It will be good +riddance, and most like the Muscovites will send an army--which, with +your Plassenburg to help us, will make a pretty fight. It serves him +right, in any event, for Prince Wasp must always be thrusting his sting +into honest folk. He will be none the worse for some of his own poison +applied at a rapier's point to keep him quiet for some few days." + +But Johann was not in a mood to relish the jubilation of the Princess. +He grew markedly uneasy in his mind. Every moment he anticipated that +the Prince would return. A trial would take place, and he did not know +what might not be discovered. + +The Princess Margaret delivered him from his anxiety. + +"The laws are strict against duelling," she continued. "The Prince Ivan +is in high favour with my elder brother, and it will be well that you +should be seen no more in Courtland--for the present, that is. But in a +little the Prince Wasp will die or he will recover. In either case the +affair will blow over. Then you will come back to teach me more foreign +customs." + +She smiled and held out her hand. Johann kissed it, perhaps without the +fervour which might have been expected from a brisk young man thus +highly favoured by the fairest and sprightliest of princesses. + +"To-night," she went on, "there will be a boat beneath that window. It +will be manned by those whom I can trust. A ladder of rope will be +thrown to your casement. By it you will descend, and with a good horse +and a sufficient escort you can ride either to Plassenburg--or to +Kernsberg, which is nearer, and tell Joan of the Sword Hand that her +sister the Princess Margaret sends you to her. I will give you a letter +to the minx, though I am sure I shall not like her. She is so forward, +they say. But be ready at the hour of midnight. Who was that youth who +fled as we came up?" + +"A Danish knight who came hither in our train from Kernsberg," replied +Johann. "But for him I should have been lost indeed!" + +"I must have a horse also for him!" cried the Princess. "He will surely +be on the watch and join you, knowing that his danger is as great as +yours. Hearken--they are mourning for their precious Prince Wasp. +To-morrow they will howl louder if by good hap he goes home +to--purgatory!" + +And through the open windows came a sound of distant shoutings as they +carried the wounded Prince to his lodgings. + +"Now," said the Princess, "for the present fare you well--in the colder +fashion of Courtland this time, for the sake of the guards at the door. +But remember that you are more than ever plighted to me to be my +instructor, dear Count von Löen!" + +She went to the door, and with her fingers on the handle she turned her +about with a pretty vixenish expression. "I am so glad you stung the +Wasp. I love you for it!" she said. + +But after she had vanished with these words the secretary grew more and +more downcast in spirit. Even this naïve declaration of affection failed +to cheer him. He sat down and gave himself up to the most melancholy +anticipations. + +At six a servitor silently entered with a well-chosen and beautifully +cooked meal, of which the secretary partook sparingly. At seven it grew +dark, and at ten all was quiet in the city. The river rushed swiftly +beneath, and the noise of it, as the water lapped against the +foundations of the summer palace, helped to disguise the sound of oars, +as the boat, a dark shadow upon greyish water, detached itself from the +opposite shore and approached the window from whose open casement Johann +Pyrmont looked out. + +[Illustration: "The Secretary found himself swaying over the dark +water." [_Page 75_]] + +A low whistle came from underneath, and presently followed the soft +reeving _whisk_ of a coil of rope as it passed through the window and +fell at his feet. The secretary looked about for something to fasten +it to, and finally decided upon the iron uprights of the great desk at +which the Prince had stood earlier in the day. + +No sooner was this done than Johann set his foot on the top round and +began to descend. It was with a sudden emptiness at the pit of the +stomach and a great desire to cry out for some one to hold the ladder +steady that the secretary found himself swaying over the dark water. The +boat seemed very far away, a mere spot of blackness upon the river's +face. + +But presently, and while making up his mind to practise the gymnastic of +rope ladders quietly at home, he made out a man holding the ladder, +while two others with grappled boat-hooks kept the boat steady fore and +aft. + +A shrouded figure sat in the stern. The secretary seemed rather to find +himself in a boat which rose swiftly to meet him than to descend into +it. He was handed from one to the other of the rowers till he reached +the shrouded figure in the stern, out of the folds of whose enveloping +cloak a small warm hand shot forth and pulled him down upon the seat. + +"Draw this corner about you, Count," a low voice whispered; and in +another moment Johann found himself under the shelter of one cloak with +that daring slip of nobility, the Princess Margaret of Courtland. + +"I was obliged to come; there is no danger. These fellows are of my +household and devoted to me. I did not dare to risk anything going +wrong. Besides, I am a princess, and--why need not I say it?--I wanted +to come. I wanted to see you again, though, indeed, there is small +chance of that in such a night. And 'tis as well, for I am sure my hair +is blown every way about my face." + +"The horses are over there," she added after a pause; "we are almost at +the shore now--alas, too quickly! But I must not keep you. I want you to +come back the sooner. And remember, if Prince Wasp gets better and +worries me too much, or my brother is unkind and insists upon marrying +me to the Bear, I will take one or two of these fellows and come to seek +you at Plassenburg, so make your reckoning with that, Sir Count von +Löen. As I said, what is the use of being a princess if you cannot marry +whom you will? Most, I know, marry whom they are told; but then they +have not the spirit of a Baltic weevil, let alone that of Margaret of +Courtland." + +They touched the shore almost at the place where the Sparhawk had landed +in the morning when he escaped from the city rabble, and a stone's-throw +further up the bank they found the horses waiting, ready caparisoned for +the journey. + +Two men were, by the Princess's orders, to accompany Johann. + +But with great thoughtfulness she had provided a fourth horse for the +companion who, equally with himself, was under the ban of the law for +wounding the lieges of the Prince of Courtland within the precincts of +the palace. + +"He cannot have gone far," said the Princess. "He would certainly +conceal himself till nightfall in the first convenient hiding-place. He +will be on the look-out for any chance to release you." + +And the event proved the wisdom of her prophecy. For as soon as he had +distinguished the slim figure of the secretary landing from the boat the +Sparhawk appeared on the crest of the hill, though for the moment he was +still unseen by those below. + +"Goodbye! For the present, goodbye, dear Princess," said Johann, with +his heart in his voice. "God knows, I can never thank or repay you. My +heart is heavy for that. I am unworthy of all your goodness. It is not +as you think----" + +He paused for words which might warn without revealing his secret; but +the Princess, never long silent, struck in. + +"Let there be no talk of parting except for the moment," she said. "Go, +you are my knight. Perhaps one day, if you do not forget me, I may be +yet far kinder to you!" + +And with a most tender kiss and a little sob the Princess sent her +lover, more and more downcast and discouraged by reason of her very +kindness, upon his way. So much did his obvious depression affect +Margaret of Courtland, that after the secretary, with one of the +men-at-arms leading the spare horse, had reached the top of the river +bank, she suddenly bade the rowers wait a moment before casting loose +from the land. + +"Your sword! Your sword!" she called aloud, risking any listener in her +eagerness; "you have forgotten your sword." + +Now it chanced that the Sparhawk had already come up with the little +party of travellers. He kissed the hand of Johann Pyrmont, placed him on +his beast, and was preparing to mount his steed with a glad heart, when +the voice from beneath startled him. + +"Do not trouble, I will bring the sword," said the Sparhawk to Johann, +with his usual impetuosity, putting the reins into the secretary's +hands. And without a moment's hesitation he flung himself down the bank. +The Princess had leaped nimbly ashore, and was standing with the +sheathed sword in her hand. + +When she saw the figure came bounding towards her down the pebbly bank, +she gave a little cry, and dropping the scabbard, threw her arms +impulsively about the Sparhawk's neck. + +"I could not let you go like that--without ever telling you that I loved +you--really, I mean," she whispered, while the youth stood petrified +with astonishment, without sound or motion. "I will marry none but +you--neither Prince Ivan nor another. A woman should not tell a man +that, I know, lest he despise her; but a princess may, if the man dare +not tell her." + + * * * * * + +"And what answered you?" asked the secretary of his companion, as they +rode together through the night out on their road to Kernsberg. + +"Why, I said nothing--speech was not needed," quoth the Dane coolly. + +"She kissed you?" + +"Well," said the Sparhawk, "I could not help that, could I?" + +"But what said you to that?" + +"Why, of course, I kissed her back again, as a man ought!" he made +answer. + +"Poor Princess," mused the secretary; "it is more than I could ever have +done for her!" Aloud he said, "But you do not love her--you had not seen +her before! Why then did you kiss her?" + +For these things are hidden from women. + +The Dane shrugged his shoulders in the dark. + +"Well, I take what the gods send," he replied. "She was a pretty girl, +and her Princess-ship made no difference in her kissing so far as I +could see. I serve you to the death, my Lady Duchess; but if a princess +loves me by the way--why, I am ready to indulge her to the limit of her +desirings!" + +"You are indeed an accommodating youth," sighed the secretary, and +forthwith returned to his own melancholy thoughts. + +And ever as they rode westward they heard all around them the rustle of +corn in the night wind. Stacks of hay shed a sweet scent momently +athwart their path, and more than once fruit-laden branches swept across +their faces. For they were passing through the garden of the Baltic, and +its fresh beauty was never fresher than on that September night when +these four rode out of Courtland towards the distant blue hills on which +was perched Kernsberg, built like an eagle's nest on a crag overfrowning +the wealthier plain. + +At the first boundaries of the group of little hill principalities the +two soldiers were dismissed, suitably rewarded by Johann, to carry the +news of safety back to their wayward and impulsive mistress. And +thence-forward the Sparhawk and the secretary rode on alone. + +At the little châlet among the hills where the Duchess Joan had so +suddenly disappeared they found two of her tire-maidens and an aged +nurse impatiently awaiting their mistress. To them entered that +composite and puzzling youth the ex-architect and secretary of the +embassy of Plassenburg, Johann, Count von Löen. And wonder of wonders, +in an hour afterwards Joan of the Sword Hand was riding eagerly towards +her capital city with her due retinue, as if she had merely been taking +a little summer breathing space at a country seat. + +Her entrance created as little surprise as her exit. For as to her exits +and entrances alike the Duchess consulted no man, much less any woman. +Werner von Orseln saluted as impassively as if he had seen his mistress +an hour before, and the acclamations of the guard rang out as cheerfully +as ever. + +Joan felt her spirits rise to be once more in her own land and among her +own folk. Nevertheless, there was a new feeling in her heart as she +thought of the day of her marriage, when the long-planned bond of +brotherhood-heritage should at last be carried out, and she should +indeed become the mistress of that great land into which she had +ventured so strangely, and the bride of the Prince--her Prince, the most +noble man on whom her eyes had ever rested. + +Then her thoughts flew to the Princess who had delivered her out of +peril so deadly, and her soul grew sick and sad within her, not at all +lest her adventure should be known. She cared not so much about that +now. (Perhaps some day she would even tell him herself when--well, +_after_!) + +But since she had ridden to Courtland, Joan, all untouched before, had +grown suddenly very tender to the smarting of another woman's heart. + +"It is in no wise my fault," she told herself, which in a sense was +true. + +But conscience, being a thing not subject to reason, dealt not a whit +the more easily with her on that account. + +It was six months afterwards that the Sparhawk, who had been given the +command of a troop of good Hohenstein lancers, asked permission to go +on a journey. + +He had been palpably restless and uneasy ever since his return, and in +spite of immediate favour and the prospect of yet further promotion, he +could not settle to his work. + +"Whither would you go?" asked his mistress. + +"To Courtland," he confessed, somewhat reluctantly, looking down at the +peaked toe of his tanned leather riding-boot. + +"And what takes you to Courtland?" said Joan; "you are in danger there. +Besides, even if you could, would you leave my service and engage with +some other?" + +"Nay, my lady," he burst out, "that will not I, so long as life lasts. +But--but the truth is"--he hesitated as he spoke--"I cannot get out of +my mind the Princess who kissed me in the dark. The like never happened +before to any man. I cannot forget her, do what I will. No, nor rest +till I have looked upon her face." + +"Wait," said Joan. "Only wait till the spring and it is my hap to ride +to Courtland for my marriage day. Then I promise you you shall see +somewhat of her--the Lord send that it be not more than enough!" + +So through many bitter winter days the Sparhawk abode at the castle of +Kernsberg, ill content. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +JOAN FORSWEARS THE SWORD + + +It was not in accordance with etiquette that two such nobly born +betrothed persons, to be allied for reasons of high State policy, should +visit each other openly before the day of marriage; but many letters and +presents had at various times come to Kernsberg, all bearing witness to +the lover-like eagerness of the Prince of Courtland and of his desire to +possess so fair a bride, especially one who was to bring him so coveted +a possession as the hill provinces of Kernsberg and Hohenstein. + +Amongst other things he had forwarded portraits of himself, drawn with +such skill as the artists of the Baltic at that time possessed, of a man +in armour, with a countenance of such wooden severity that it might +stand (as the Duchess openly declared) just as well for Werner, her +chief captain, or any other man of war in full panoply. + +"But," said Joan within herself, "what care I for armour black or armour +white? Mine eyes have seen--and my heart does not forget." + +Then she smiled and for a while forgot the coming inevitable +disappointment of the Princess Margaret, which troubled her much at +other times. + +The winter was unusually long and fierce in the mountains of Kernsberg +that year, and even along the Baltic shores the ice packed thicker and +the snow lay longer by a full month than usual. + +It was the end of May, and the full bursting glory of a northern +spring, when at last the bridal cavalcade wound down from the towers of +the Castle of Kernsberg. Four hundred riders there were, every man +arrayed like a prince in the colours of Hohenstein--four fairest maids +to be bridesmaids to their Duchess, and as many matrons of rank and +years to bring their mistress with dignity and discretion to her new +home. But the people and the rough soldiers openly mourned for Joan of +the Sword Hand. "The Princess of Courtland will not be the same thing!" +they said. + +And they were right, for since the last time she rode out Joan had +thought many thoughts. Could it be that she was indeed that reckless +maid who once had vowed that she would go and look once at the man her +father had bidden her marry, and then, if she did not like him, would +carry him off and clap him into a dungeon till he had paid a swinging +ransom? But the knight of the white plume, and the interview she had had +with a certain Prince in the summer palace of Courtland, had changed all +that. + +Now she would be sober, grave--a fit mate for such a man. Almost she +blushed to recall her madcap feats of only a year ago. + +As they approached the city, and each night brought them closer to the +great day, Joan rode more by herself, or talked with the young Dane, +Maurice von Lynar, of the Princess Margaret--without, however, telling +him aught of the rose garden or the expositions of foreign customs which +had preceded the duel with the Wasp. + +The heart of the Duchess beat yet faster when at last the day of their +entry arrived. As they rode toward the gate of Courtland they were aware +of a splendid cavalcade which came out to receive them in the name of +the Prince, and to conduct them with honour to the palace prepared for +them. + +In the centre of a brilliant company rode the Princess Margaret, in a +well-fitting robe of pale blue broidered with crimson, while behind and +about her was such a galaxy of the fashion and beauty of a court, that +had not Joan remembered and thought on the summer parlour and the man +who was waiting for her in the city, she had almost bidden her four +hundred riders wheel to the right about, and gallop straight back to +Kernsberg and the heights of rustic Hohenstein. + +At sight of the Duchess's party the Princess alighted from off her steed +with the help of a cavalier. At the same moment Joan of the Sword Hand +leaped down of her own accord and came forward to meet her new sister. + +The two women kissed, and then held each other at arm's length for the +luxury of a long look. + +The face of the Princess showed a trace of emotion. She appeared to be +struggling with some recollection she was unable to locate with +precision. + +"I hope you will be very happy with my brother," she faltered; then +after a moment she added, "Have you not perchance a brother of your +own?" + +But before Joan could reply the representative of the Prince had come +forward to conduct the bride-elect to her rooms, and the Princess gave +place to him. + +But all the same she kept her eyes keenly about her, and presently they +rested with a sudden brightness upon the young Dane, Maurice von Lynar, +at the head of his troop of horse. He was near enough for her to see his +face, and it was with a curious sense of strangeness that she saw his +eyes fixed upon herself. + +"He is different--he is changed," she said to herself; "but how--wait +till we get to the palace, and I shall soon find out!" + +And immediately she caused it to be intimated that all the captains of +troops and the superior officers of the escort of the Duchess Joan were +to be entertained at the palace of the Princess Margaret. + +So that at the moment when Joan was taking a first survey of her +chambers, which occupied one entire wing of the Palace of the Princes of +Courtland, Margaret the impetuous had already commanded the presence of +the Count von Löen, one of the commanders of the bridal escort. + +The young officer entrusted with the message returned almost +immediately, to find his mistress impatiently pacing up and down. + +"Well?" she said, halting at the upper end of the reception-room and +looking at him. + +"Your Highness," he said, "there is no Count von Löen among the officers +of Kernsberg!" + +Margaret of Courtland stamped her foot. + +"I expected as much," she said. "He shall pay for this. Why, man, I saw +him with my own eyes an hour ago--a young man, slender, sits erect in +his saddle, of a dark allure, and with eyes like those of an eagle." + +A flush came over the youth's face. + +"Does he look like the brother of the Duchess Joan?" he said. + +"That is the man--Count von Löen or no. That is the man, I tell you. +Bring him immediately to me." + +The young officer smiled. + +"Methinks he will come readily enough. He started forward as if to +follow me when first I told my message. But when I mentioned the name of +the Count von Löen he stood aside in manifest disappointment." + +"At all events, bring him instantly!" commanded the Princess. + +The officer bowed low and retired. + +The Princess Margaret smiled to herself. + +"It is some more of their precious State secrets," she said. "Well--I +love secrets, and I can keep them too; but only my own, or those that +are told to me. And I will make my gentleman pay for playing off his +Counts von Löen on me!" + +Presently she heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. + +"Come in--come in straightway," she said in a loud, clear voice; "I have +a word to speak with you, Sir Count--who yet deny that you are a count. +And, prithee, to how many silly girls have you taught the foreign +fashions of linked arms, and all that most pleasant ceremony of +leave-taking in Kernsberg and Plassenburg?" + +Then the Sparhawk had his long-desired view in full daylight of the +woman whose lips, touched once under cloud of night, had dominated his +fancy and enslaved his will during all the weary months of winter. + +Also he had before him, though he knew it not, a somewhat difficult and +complicated explanation. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SPARHAWK IN THE TOILS + + +The Princess Margaret was standing by the window as the young man +entered. Her golden curls flashed in the late sunshine, which made a +kind of haze of light about her head as she turned the resentful +brilliance of her eyes upon Maurice von Lynar. + +"Is it a safe thing, think you, Sir Count, to jest with a princess in +her own land and then come back to flout her for it?" + +Maurice understood her to refer to the kiss given and returned in the +darkness of the night. He knew not of how many other indiscretions he +was now to bear the brunt, or he had turned on the spot and fled once +more across the river. + +"My lady," he said, "if I offended you once, it was not done +intentionally, but by mistake." + +"By mistake, sir! Have a care. I may have been indiscreet, but I am not +imbecile." + +"The darkness of the night----" faltered von Lynar, "let that be my +excuse." + +"Pshaw!" flashed the Princess, suddenly firing up; "do you not see, man, +that you cannot lie yourself out of this? And, indeed, what need? If _I_ +were a secretary of embassy, and a princess distinguished me with her +slightest favour, methinks when next I came I would not meanly deny her +acquaintance!" + +Von Lynar was distressed, and fortunately for himself his distress +showed in his face. + +"Princess," he said, standing humbly before her, "I did wrong. But +consider the sudden temptation, the darkness of the night----" + +"The darkness of the night," she said, stamping her foot, and in an +instinctively mocking tone; "you are indeed well inspired. You remind me +of what I ventured that you should be free. The darkness of the night, +indeed! I suppose that is all that sticks in your memory, because you +gained something tangible by it. You have forgotten the walk through the +corridors of the Palace, all you taught me in the rose garden, +and--and--how apt a pupil you said I was. Pray, good Master +Forgetfulness, who hath forgotten all these things, forgotten even his +own name, tell me what you did in Courtland eight months ago?" + +"I came--I came," faltered the Sparhawk, fearful of yet further +committing himself, "I came to find and save my dear mistress." + +"Your--dear--mistress?" The Princess spoke slowly, and the blue eyes +hardened till they overtopped and beat down the bold black ones of +Maurice von Lynar; "and you dare to tell me this--me, to whom you swore +that you had never loved woman in the world before, never spoken to them +word of wooing or compliment! Out of my sight, fellow! The Prince, my +brother, shall deal with you." + +Then all suddenly her pride utterly gave way. The disappointment was too +keen. She sank down on a silk-covered ottoman by the window side, +sobbing. + +"Oh, that I could kill you now, with my hands--so," she said in little +furious jerks, gripping at the pillow; "I hate you, thus to put a shame +upon me--me, Margaret of Courtland. Could it have been for such a thing +as you that I sent away the Prince of Muscovy--yes, and many +others--because I could not forget you? And after all----!" + +Now Maurice von Lynar was not quick in discernment where woman was +concerned, but on this occasion he recognised that he was blindly +playing the hand of another--a hand, moreover, of which he could not +hope to see the cards. He did the only thing which could have saved him +with the Princess. He came near and sank on one knee before her. + +"Madam," he said humbly and in a moving voice, "I beseech you not to be +angry--not to condemn me unheard. In the sense of being in love, I never +loved any but yourself. I would rather die than put the least slight +upon one so surpassingly fair, whose memory has never departed from me, +sleeping or waking, whose image, dimly seen, has never for a moment been +erased from my heart's tablets." + +The Princess paused and lifted her eyes till they dwelt searchingly upon +him. His obvious sincerity touched her willing heart. + +"But you said just now that you came to Courtland to see 'your dear +mistress?'" + +The young man put his hand to his head. + +"You must bear with me," he said, "if perchance for a little my words +are wild. I had, indeed, no right to speak of you as my dear mistress." + +"Oh, it was of me that you spoke," said the Princess, smiling a little; +"I begin to understand." + +"Of what other could I speak?" said the shameless Von Lynar, who now +began to feel his way a little clearer. "I have indeed been very ill, +and when I am in straits my head is still unsettled. Oftentimes I forget +my very name, so sharp a pang striking through my forehead that I dote +and stare and forget all else. It springs from a secret wound that at +the time I knew nothing of." + +"Yes--yes, I remember. In the duel with the Wasp--in the yew-tree walk +it happened. Tell me, is it dangerous? Did it well-nigh cost you your +life?" + +The youth modestly hung down his head. + +This sudden spate of falsehood had come upon him, as it were, from the +outside. + +"If the truth will not help me," he muttered, "why, I can lie with any +man. Else wherefore was I born a Dane? But, by my faith, my mistress +must have done some rare tall lying on her own account, and now I am +reaping that which she hath sown." + +As he kneeled thus the Princess bent over him with a quizzical +expression on her face. + +"You are sure that you speak the truth now? Your wound is not again +causing you to dote?" + +"Nay," said the Sparhawk; "indeed, 'tis almost healed." + +"Where was the wound?" queried the Princess anxiously. + +"There were two," answered Von Lynar diplomatically; "one in my shoulder +at the base of my neck, and the other, more dangerous because internal, +on the head itself." + +"Let me see." + +She came and stood above him as he put his hand to the collar of his +doublet, and, unfastening a tie, he slipped it down a little and showed +her at the spring of his neck Werner von Orseln's thrust. + +"And the other," she said, covering it up with a little shudder, "that +on the head, where is it?" + +The youth blushed, but answered valiantly enough. + +"It never was an open wound, and so is a little difficult to find. Here, +where my hand is, above my brow." + +"Hold up your head," said the Princess. "On which side was it? On the +right? Strange, I cannot find it. You are too far beneath me. The light +falls not aright. Ah, that is better!" + +She kneeled down in front of him and examined each side of his head with +interest, making as she did so, many little exclamations of pity and +remorse. + +"I think it must be nearer the brow," she said at last; "hold up your +head--look at me." + +Von Lynar looked at the Princess. Their position was one as charming as +it was dangerous. They were kneeling opposite to one another, their +faces, drawn together by the interest of the surgical examination, had +approached very close. The dark eyes looked squarely into the blue. With +stuff so inflammable, fire and tow in such immediate conjunction, who +knows what conflagration might have ensued had Von Lynar's eyes +continued thus to dwell on those of the Princess? + +But the young man's gaze passed over her shoulder. Behind Margaret of +Courtland he saw a man standing at the door with his hand still on the +latch. A dark frown overspread his face. The Princess, instantly +conscious that the interest had gone out of the situation, followed the +direction of Von Lynar's eyes. She rose to her feet as the young Dane +also had done a moment before. + +Maurice recognised the man who stood by the door as the same whom he had +seen on the ground in the yew-tree walk when he and Joan of the Sword +Hand had faced the howling mob of the city. For the second time Prince +Wasp had interfered with the amusements of the Princess Margaret. + +That lady looked haughtily at the intruder. + +"To what," she said, "am I so fortunate as to owe the unexpected honour +of this visit?" + +"I came to pay my respects to your Highness," said Prince Wasp, bowing +low. "I did not know that the Princess was amusing herself. It is my +ill-fortune, not my fault, that I interrupted at a point so full of +interest." + +It was the truth. The point was decidedly interesting, and therein lay +the sting of the situation, as probably the Wasp knew full well. + +"You are at liberty to leave me now," said the Princess, falling back on +a certain haughty dignity which she kept in reserve behind her headlong +impulsiveness. + +"I obey, madam," he replied; "but first I have a message from the Prince +your brother. He asks you to be good enough to accompany his bride to +the minster to-morrow. He has been ill all day with his old trouble, and +so cannot wait in person upon his betrothed. He must abide in solitude +for this day at least. Your Highness is apparently more fortunate!" + +The purpose of the insult was plain; but the Princess Margaret +restrained herself, not, however, hating the insulter less. + +[Illustration: "The lady looked haughtily at the intruder." [_Page 88_]] + +"I pray you, Prince Ivan," she said, "return to my brother and tell him +that his commands are ever an honour, and shall be obeyed to the +letter." + +She bowed in dignified dismissal. Prince Wasp swept his plumed hat along +the floor with the profundity of his retiring salutation, and in the +same moment he flashed out his sting. + +"I leave your Highness with less regret because I perceive that solitude +has its compensations!" he said. + +The pair were left alone, but all things seemed altered now. Margaret of +Courtland was silent and distrait. Von Lynar had a frown upon his brow, +and his eyes were very dark and angry. + +"Next time I must kill the fellow!" he muttered. He took the hand of the +Princess and respectfully kissed it. + +"I am your servant," he said; "I will do your bidding in all things, in +life or in death. If I have forgotten anything, in aught been remiss, +believe me that it was fate and not I. I will never presume, never count +on your friendship past your desire, never recall your ancient goodness. +I am but a poor soldier, yet at least I can faithfully keep my word." + +The Princess withdrew her hand as if she had been somewhat fatigued. + +"Do not be afraid," she said a little bitterly, "I shall not forget. _I_ +have not been wounded in the head! _Only in the heart!_" she added, as +she turned away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT THE HIGH ALTAR + + +When Maurice von Lynar reached the open air he stood for full five +minutes, light-headed in the rush of the city traffic. The loud +iteration of rejoicing sounded heartless and even impertinent in his +ear. The world had changed for the young Dane since the Count von Löen +had been summoned by the Princess Margaret. + +He cast his mind back over the interview, but failed to disentangle +anything definite. It was a maze of impressions out of which grew the +certainty that, safely to play his difficult part, he must obtain the +whole confidence of the Duchess Joan. + +He looked about for the Prince of Muscovy, but failed to see him. Though +not anxious about the result, he was rather glad, for he did not want +another quarrel on his hands till after the wedding. He would see the +Princess Margaret there. If he played his cards well with the bride, he +might even be sent for to escort her. + +So he made his way to the magnificent suite of apartments where the +Duchess was lodged. The Prince had ordered everything with great +consideration. Her own horsemen patrolled the front of the palace, and +the Courtland guards were for the time being wholly withdrawn. + +[Illustration: "Joan of Hohenstein stood, looking out upon the river." +[_Page 91_]] + +It seemed strange that Joan of the Sword Hand, who not so long ago had +led many a dashing foray and been the foremost in many a brisk +encounter, should be a bride! It could not be that once he had +imagined her the fairest woman under the sun, and himself, for her sake, +the most miserable of men. Thus do lovers deceive themselves when the +new has come to obliterate the old. Some can even persuade themselves +that the old never had any existence. + +The young Dane found the Duchess walking up and down on the noble +promenade which faces the river to the west. For the water curved in a +spacious elbow about the city of Courtland, and the summer palace was +placed in the angle. + +Maurice von Lynar stood awhile respectfully waiting for the Duchess to +recognise him. Werner, John of Thorn, or any of her Kernsberg captains +would have gone directly up to her. But this youth had been trained in +another school. + +Joan of Hohenstein stood a while without moving, looking out upon the +river. She thought with a kind of troubled shyness of the morrow, oft +dreamed of, long expected. She saw the man whom she was not known ever +to have seen--the noble young man of the tournament, the gracious Prince +of the summer parlour, courteous and dignified alike to the poor +secretary of embassy and to his sister the Princess Margaret of +Courtland. Surely there never was any one like him--proudly thought this +girl, as she looked across the river at the rich plain studded with +far-smiling farms and fields just waking to life after their long winter +sleep. + +"Ah, Von Lynar, my brave Dane, what good wind blows you here?" she +cried. "I declare I was longing for some one to talk to." A +consciousness of need which had only just come to her. + +"I have seen the Princess Margaret," said the youth slowly, "and I think +that she must mistake me for some other person. She spoke things most +strange to me to hear. But fearing I might meddle with affairs wherewith +I had no concern, I forebore to correct her." + +The eyes of the Duchess danced. A load seemed suddenly lifted off her +mind. + +"Was she very angry?" she queried. + +"Very!" returned Von Lynar, smiling in recognition of her smile. + +"What said the Princess?" + +"First she would have it that my name and style were those of the Count +Von Löen. Then she reproached me fiercely because I denied it. After +that she spoke of certain foreign customs she had been taught, recalled +walks through corridors and rose gardens with me, till my head swam and +I knew not what to answer." + +Joan of the Sword Hand laughed a merry peal. + +"The Count von Löen, did she say?" she meditated. "Well, so you are the +Count von Löen. I create you the Count von Löen now. I give you the +title. It is mine to give. By to-morrow I shall have done with all these +things. And since as the Count von Löen I drank the wine, it is fair +that you, who have to pay the reckoning, should be the Count von Löen +also." + +"My family is noble, and I am the sole heir--that is, alive," said +Maurice, a little drily. To his mind the grandson of Count von Lynar, of +the order of the Dannebrog, had no need of any other distinction. + +"But I give you also therewith the estates which pertain to the title. +They are situated on the borders of Reichenau. I am so happy to-night +that I would like to make all the world happy. I am sorry for all the +folk I have injured!" + +"Love changes all things," said the Dane sententiously. + +The Duchess looked at him quickly. + +"You are in love--with the Princess Margaret?" she said. + +The youth blushed a deep crimson, which flooded his neck and dyed his +dusky skin. + +"Poor Maurice!" she said, touching his bowed head with her hand, "your +troubles will not be to seek." + +"My lady," said the youth, "I fear not trouble. I have promised to serve +the Princess in all things. She has been very kind to me. She has +forgiven me all." + +"So--you are anxious to change your allegiance," said +the Duchess. "It is as well that I have already made you Count von Löen, +and so in a manner bound you to me, or you would be going off into +another's service with all my secrets in your keeping. Not that it will +matter very much--after to-morrow!" she added, with a glance at the wing +of the palace which held the summer parlour. "But how did you manage to +appease her? That is no mean feat. She is an imperious lady and quick of +understanding." + +Then Maurice von Lynar told his mistress of his most allowable +falsehoods, and begged her not to undeceive the Princess, for that he +would rather bear all that she might put upon him than that she should +know he had lied to her. + +"Do not be afraid," said the Duchess, laughing, "it was I who tangled +the skein. So far you have unravelled it very well. The least I can do +is to leave you to unwind it to the end, my brave Count von Löen." + +So they parted, the Duchess to her apartment, and the young man to pace +up and down the stone-flagged promenade all night, thinking of the +distracting whimsies of the Princess Margaret, of the hopelessness of +his love, and, most of all, of how daintily exquisite and altogether +desirable was her beauty of face, of figure, of temper, of everything! + +For the Sparhawk was not a lover to make reservations. + + * * * * * + +The morning of the great day dawned cool and grey. A sunshade of misty +cloud overspread the city and tempered the heat. It had come up with the +morning wind from the Baltic, and by eight the ships at the quays, and +the tall beflagged festal masts in the streets through which the +procession was to pass, ran clear up into it and were lost, so that the +standards and pennons on their tops could not be seen any more than if +they had been amongst the stars. + +The streets were completely lined with the folk of the city of +Courtland as the Princess Margaret, with the Sparhawk and his company of +lances clattering behind her, rode to the entrance of the palace where +abode the bride-elect. + +"Who is that youth?" asked Margaret of Courtland of Joan, as they came +out together; she looked at the Dane--"he at the head of your first +troops? He looks like your brother." + +"He has often been taken for such!" said the bride. "He is called the +Count von Löen!" + +The Princess did not reply, and as the two fair women came out arm in +arm, a sudden glint of sunlight broke through the leaden clouds and fell +upon them, glorifying the white dress of the one, and the blue and gold +apparel of the other. + +The bells of the minster clanged a changeful thunder of brazen acclaim +as the bride set out for the first time (so they told each other on the +streets) to see her promised husband. + +"'Twas well we did not so manage our affairs, Hans," said a fishmonger's +wife, touching her husband's arm archly. + +"Yea, wife," returned the seller of fish; "whatever thou beest, at least +I cannot deny that I took thee with my eyes open!" + +They reached the Rathhaus, and the clamour grew louder than ever. +Presently they were at the cathedral and making them ready to dismount. +The bells in the towers above burst forth into yet more frantic +jubilation. The cannons roared from the ramparts. + +The Princess Margaret had delayed a little, either taking longer to her +attiring, or, perhaps, gossiping with the bride. So that when the shouts +in the wide Minster Place announced their arrival, all was in readiness +within the crowded church, and the bridegroom had gone in well-nigh half +an hour before them. But that was in accord with the best traditions. + +Very like a Princess and a great lady looked Joan of Hohenstein as she +went up the aisle, with Margaret of Courtland by her side. She kept her +eyes on the ground, for she meant to look at no one and behold nothing +till she should see--that which she longed to look upon. + +Suddenly she was conscious that they had stopped in the middle of a vast +silence. The candles upon the great altar threw down a golden lustre. +Joan saw the irregular shining of them on her white bridal dress, and +wondered that it should be so bright. + +There was a hush over all the assembly, the silence of a great multitude +all intent upon one thing. + +"My brother, the Prince of Courtland!" said the voice of the Princess +Margaret. + +Slowly Joan raised her eyes--pride and happiness at war with a kind of +glorious shame upon her face. + +But that one look altered all things. + +She stood fixed, aghast, turned to stone as she gazed. She could neither +speak nor think. That which she saw almost struck her dead with horror. + +The man whom his sister introduced as the Prince of Courtland was not +the knight of the tournament. He was not the young prince of the summer +palace. He was a man much older, more meagre of body, grey-headed, with +an odd sidelong expression in his eyes. His shoulders were bent, and he +carried himself like a man prematurely old. + +And there, behind the altar-railing, clad in the scarlet of a prince of +the Church, and wearing the mitre of a bishop, stood the husband of her +heart's deepest thoughts, the man who had never been out of her mind all +these weary months. He held a service book in his hand, and stood ready +to marry Joan of Hohenstein to another. + +The man who was called Prince of Courtland came forward to take her +hand; but Joan stood with her arms firmly at her sides. The terrible +nature of her mistake flashed upon her and grew in horror with every +moment. Fate seemed to laugh suddenly and mockingly in her face. Destiny +shut her in. + +"Are you the Prince of Courtland?" she asked; and at the sound of her +voice, unwontedly clear in the great church, even the organ appeared to +still itself. All listened intently, though only a few heard the +conversation. + +"I have that honour," bowed the man with the bent shoulders. + +"Then, as God lives, I will never marry you!" cried Joan, all her soul +in the disgust of her voice. + +"Be not disdainful, my lady," said the bridegroom mildly; "I will be +your humble slave. You shall have a palace and an establishment of your +own, an it like you. The marriage was your father's desire, and hath the +sanction of the Emperor. It is as necessary for your State as for mine." + +Then, while the people waited in a kind of palpitating uncertainty, the +Princess Margaret whispered to the bride, who stood with a face ashen +pale as her own white dress. + +Sometimes she looked at the Prince of Courtland, and then immediately +averted her eyes. But never, after the first glance, did Joan permit +them to stray to the face of him who stood behind the altar railings +with his service book in his hand. + +"Well," she said finally, "I _will_ marry this man, since it is my fate. +Let the ceremony proceed!" + +"I thank you, gracious lady," said the Prince, taking her hand and +leading his bride to the altar. "You will never regret it." + +"No, but you will!" muttered his groomsman, the Prince Ivan of Muscovy. + +The full rich tones of the prince bishop rose and fell through the +crowded minster as Joan of Hohenstein was married to his elder brother, +and with the closing words of the episcopal benediction an awe fell upon +the multitude. They felt that they were in the presence of great unknown +forces, the action and interaction of which might lead no man knew +whither. + +At the close of the service, Joan, now Princess of Courtland, leaned +over and whispered a word to her chosen captain, Maurice von Lynar, an +action noticed by few. The young man started and gazed into her face; +but, immediately commanding his emotion, he nodded and disappeared by a +side door. + +The great organ swelled out. The marriage procession was re-formed. The +prince-bishop had retired to his sacristy to change his robes. The new +Princess of Courtland came down the aisle on the arm of her husband. + +Then the bells almost turned over in their fury of jubilation, and every +cannon in the city bellowed out. The people shouted themselves hoarse, +and the line of Courtland troops who kept the people back had great +difficulty in restraining the enthusiasm which threatened to break all +bounds and involve the married pair in a whirling tumult of acclaim. + +In the centre of the Minster Place the four hundred lances of the +Kernsberg escort had formed up, a serried mass of beautiful well-groomed +horses, stalwart men, and shining spears, from each of which the pennon +of their mistress fluttered in the light wind. + +"Ha! there they come at last! See them on the steps!" The shouts rang +out, and the people flung their headgear wildly into the air. The line +of Courtland foot saluted, but no cheer came from the array of Kernsberg +lances. + +"They are sorry to lose her--and small wonder. Well, she is ours now!" +the people cried, congratulating one another as they shook hands and the +wine gurgled out of the pigskins into innumerable thirsty mouths. + +On the steps of the minster, after they had descended more than +half-way, the new Princess of Courtland turned upon her lord. Her hand +slipped from his arm, which hung a moment crooked and empty before it +dropped to his side. His mouth was a little open with surprise. Prince +Louis knew that he was wedding a wilful dame, but he had not been +prepared for this. + +"Now, my lord," said the Princess Joan, loud and clear. "I have married +you. The bond of heritage-brotherhood is fulfilled. I have obeyed my +father to the letter. I have obeyed the Emperor. I have done all. Now be +it known to you and to all men that I will neither live with you nor yet +in your city. I am your wife in name. You shall never be my husband in +aught else. I bid you farewell, Prince of Courtland. Joan of Hohenstein +may marry where she is bidden, but she loves where she will." + +The horse upon which she had come to the minster stood waiting. There +was the Sparhawk ready to help her into the saddle. + +Ere one of the wedding guests could move to prevent her, before the +Prince of Courtland could cry an order or decide what to do, Joan of the +Sword Hand had placed herself at the head of her four hundred lances, +and was riding through the shouting streets towards the Plassenburg +gate. + +The people cheered as she went by, clearing the way that she might not +be annoyed. They thought it part of the day's show, and voted the +Kernsbergers a gallant band, well set up and right bravely arrayed. + +So they passed through the gate in safety. The noble portal was all +aflutter with colour, the arms of Hohenstein and Courtland being +quartered together on a great wooden plaque over the main entrance. + +As soon as they were clear the Princess Joan turned in her saddle and +spake to the four hundred behind her. + +"We ride back to Kernsberg," she cried. "Joan of the Sword Hand is wed, +but not yet won. If they would keep her they must first catch her. Are +you with me, lads of the hills?" + +Then came back a unanimous shout of "Aye--to the death!" from four +hundred throats. + +"Then give me a sword and put the horses to their speed. We ride for +home. Let them catch us who can!" + +And this was the true fashion of the marrying of Joan of the Sword Hand, +Duchess of Hohenstein, to the Prince Louis of Courtland, by his brother +Conrad, Cardinal and Prince of Holy Church. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +WHAT JOAN LEFT BEHIND + + +After the departure of his bride, the Prince of Courtland stood on the +steps of the minster, dazed and foundered by the shame which had so +suddenly befallen him. Beneath him the people seethed tumultuously, +their holiday ribands and maypole dresses making as gay a swirl of +colour as when one looks at the sun through the facets of a cut Venetian +glass. Prince Louis's weak and fretful face worked with emotion. His +bird-like hands clawed uncertainly at his sword-hilt, wandering off over +the golden pouches that tasselled his baldric till they rested on the +sheath of the poignard he wore. + +"Bid the gates be shut, Prince!" The whisper came over his shoulder from +a young man who had been standing all the time twisting his moustache. +"Bid your horsemen bit and bridle. The plain is fair before you. It is a +long way to Kernsberg. I have a hundred Muscovites at your service, all +well mounted--ten thousand behind them over the frontier if these are +not enough! Let no wench in the world put this shame upon a reigning +Prince of Courtland on his wedding-day!" + +Thus Ivan of Muscovy, attired in silk, banded of black and gold, +counselled the disdained Prince Louis, who stood pushing upward with two +fingers the point of his thin greyish beard and gnawing the straggling +ends between his teeth. + +"I say, 'To horse and ride, man!' Will you dare tell this folk of yours +that you are disdained, slighted at the very church door by your wedded +wife, cast off and trodden in the mire like a bursten glove? Can you +afford to proclaim yourself the scorn of Germany? How it will run, that +news! To Plassenburg first, where the Executioner's Son will smile +triumphantly to his witch woman, and straightway send off a messenger to +tickle the well-larded ribs of his friend the Margraf George with the +rare jest." + +The Prince Louis appeared to be moved by the Wasp's words. He turned +about to the nearest knight-in-waiting. + +"Let us to horse--every man of us!" he said. "Bid that the steeds be +brought instantly." + +The banded Wasp had further counsels to give. + +"Give out that you go to meet the Princess at a rendezvous. For a +pleasantry between yourselves, you have resolved to spend the honeymoon +at a distant hunting-lodge. Quick! Not half a dozen of all the company +caught the true import of her words. You will tame her yet. She will +founder her horses in a single day's ride, while you have relays along +the road at every castle, at every farm-house, and your borders are +fifty good miles away." + +Beneath, in the square, the court jesters leaped and laughed, turning +somersaults and making a flying skirt, like that of a morrice dancer, +out of the long, flapping points of their parti-coloured blouses. The +streets in front of the cathedral were alive with musicians, mostly in +little bands of three, a harper with his harp of fourteen strings, his +companion playing industriously upon a Flute-English, and with these two +their 'prentice or servitor, who accompanied them with shrill iterance +of whistle, while both his hands busied themselves with the merry tuck +of tabour. + +In this incessant merrymaking the people soon forgot their astonishment +at the sudden disappearance of the bride. There was, indeed, no +understanding these great folk. But it was a fine day for a feast--the +pretext a good one. And so the lasses and lads joked as they danced in +the lower vaults of the town house, from which the barrels had been +cleared for the occasion. + +"If thou and I were thus wedded, Grete, would you ride one way and I the +other? Nay, God wot, lass! I am but a tanner's 'prentice, but I'd abide +beside thee, as close as bark by hide that lies three years in the same +tan-pit--aye, an' that I would, lass!" + +Then Gretchen bridled. "I would not marry thee, nor yet lie near or far, +Hans; thou art but a boy, feckless and skill-less save to pole about thy +stinking skins--faugh!" + +"Nay, try me, Grete! Is not this kiss as sweet as any civet-scented fop +could give?" + +At the command of the Prince the trumpets rang out again the call of +"Boot-and-saddle!" from the steps of the cathedral. At the sound the +grooms, who were here and there in the press, hasted to find and +caparison the horses of their lords. Meanwhile, on the wide steps the +Prince Louis fretted, dinting his nails restlessly into his palms and +shaking with anger and disappointment till his deep sleeves vibrated +like scarlet flames in a veering wind. + +Suddenly there passed a wave over the people who crowded the spacious +Dom Platz of Courtland. The turmoil stilled itself unconsciously. The +many-headed parti-coloured throng of women's tall coifs, gay fluttering +ribands, men's velvet caps, gallants' white feathers that shifted like +the permutations of a kaleidoscope, all at once fixed itself into a sea +of white faces, from which presently arose a forest of arms flourishing +kerchiefs and tossing caps. To this succeeded a deep mouth-roar of +burgherish welcome such as the reigning Prince had never heard raised in +his own honour. + +"Conrad--Prince Conrad! God bless our Prince-Cardinal!" + +The legitimate ruler of Courtland, standing where Joan had left him, +with his slim-waisted Muscovite mentor behind him, half-turned to look. +And there on the highest place stood his brother in the scarlet of his +new dignity as it had come from the Pope himself, his red biretta held +in his hand, and his fair and noble head erect as he looked over the +folk to where on the slope above the city gates he could still see the +sun glint and sparkle on the cuirasses and lanceheads of the four +hundred riders of Kernsberg. + +But even as the Prince of Courtland looked back at his brother, the +whisper of the tempter smote his ear. + +"Had Prince Conrad been in your place, and you behind the altar rails, +think you that the Duchess Joan would have fled so cavalierly?" + +By this time the young Cardinal had descended till he stood on the other +side of the Prince from Ivan of Muscovy. + +"You take horse to follow your bride?" he queried, smiling. "Is it a +fashion of Kernsberg brides thus to steal away?" For he could see the +grooms bringing horses into the square, and the guards beating the +people back with the butts of their spears to make room for the mounting +of the Prince's cavalcade. + +"Hark--he flouts you!" came the whisper over the bridegroom's shoulder; +"I warrant he knew of this before." + +"You have done your priest's work, brother," said Louis coldly, "e'en +permit me to go about that of a prince and a husband in my own way." + +The Cardinal bowed low, but with great self-command held his peace, +whereat Louis of Courtland broke out in a sudden overboiling fury. + +"This is your doing!" he cried; "I know it well. From her first coming +my bride had set herself to scorn me. My sister knew it. You knew it. +You smile as at a jest. The Pope's favour has turned your head. You +would have all--the love of my wife, the rule of my folk, as well as the +acclaim of these city swine. Listen--'The good Prince Conrad! God save +the noble Prince!' It is worth while living for favour such as this." + +"Brother of mine," said the young man gently, "as you know well, I +never set eyes upon the noble Lady Joan before. Never spoke word to her, +held no communication by word or pen." + +"Von Dessauer--his secretary!" whispered Ivan, dropping the suggestion +carefully over his shoulder like poison distilled into a cup. + +"You were constantly with the old fox Dessauer, the envoy of +Plassenburg--who came from Kernsberg, bringing with him that slim +secretary. By my faith, now, when I think of it, Prince Ivan told me +last night he was as like this madcap girl as pea to pea--some fly-blown +base-born brother, doubtless!" + +Conrad shook his head. His brother had doubtless gone momentarily +distract with his troubles. + +"Nay, deny it not! And smile not either--lest I spoil the symmetry of +that face for your monkish mummery and processions. Aye, if I have to +lie under ten years' interdict for it from your friend the most Holy +Pope of Rome!" + +"Do not forget there is another Church in my country, which will lay no +interdict upon you, Prince Louis," laughed Ivan of Muscovy. "But to +horse--to horse--we lose time!" + +"Brother," said the Cardinal, laying his hand on Louis's arm, "on my +word as a knight--as a Prince of the Church--I knew nothing of the +matter. I cannot even guess what has led you thus to accuse me!" + +The Princess Margaret came at that moment out of the cathedral and ran +impetuously to her favourite brother. + +He put out his hand. She took it, and instead of kissing his bishop's +ring, as in strict etiquette she ought to have done, she cried out, +"Conrad, do you know what that glorious wench has done? Dared her +husband's authority at the church door, leaped into the saddle, whistled +up her men, cried to all these Courtland gallants, 'Catch me who can!' +And lo! at this moment she is riding straight for Kernsberg, and now our +Louis must catch her. A glorious wedding! I would I were by her side. +Brother Louis, you need not frown, I am nowise affrighted at your +glooms! This is a bride worth fighting for. No puling cloister-maid this +that dares not raise her eyes higher than her bridegroom's knee! Were I +a man, by my faith, I would never eat or drink, neither pray nor sain +me, till I had tamed the darling and brought her to my wrist like a +falcon to a lure!" + +"So, then, madam, you knew of this?" said her elder brother, glowering +upon her from beneath his heavy brows. + +"Nay!" trilled the gay Princess, "I only wish I had. Then I, too, would +have been riding with them--such a jest as never was, it would have +been. Goodbye, my poor forsaken brother! Joy be with you on this your +bridal journey. Take Prince Ivan with you, and Conrad and I will keep +the kingdom against your return, with your prize gentled on your wrist." + +So smiling and kissing her hand the Princess Margaret waved her brother +and Prince Ivan off. The Prince of Courtland neither looked at her nor +answered. But the Muscovite turned often in his saddle as if to carry +with him the picture she made of saucy countenance and dainty figure as +she stood looking up into the face of the Cardinal Prince Conrad. + +"What in Heaven's name is the meaning of all this--I do not understand +in the least?" he was saying. + +"Haste you and unrobe, Brother Con," she said; "this grandeur of yours +daunts me. Then, in the summer parlour, I will tell you all!" + +[Illustration: "They stood ... looking down at the rushing river." +[_Page 105_]] + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +PRINCE WASP'S COMPACT + + +"I cannot go back to Courtland dishonoured," said Prince Louis to Ivan +of Muscovy, as they stood on the green bank looking down on the rushing +river, broad and brown, which had so lately been the Fords of Alla. The +river had risen almost as it seemed upon the very heels of the four +hundred horsemen of Kernsberg, and the ironclad knights and men-at-arms +who followed the Prince of Courtland could not face the yeasty swirl of +the flood. + +Prince Ivan, left to himself, would have dared it. + +"What is a little brown water?" he cried. "Let the men leave their +armour on this side and swim their horses through. We do it fifty times +a month in Muscovy in the springtime. And what are your hill-fed brooks +to the full-bosomed rivers of the Great Plain?" + +"It is just because they are hill-fed that we know them and will not +risk our lives. The Alla has come down out of the mountains of +Hohenstein. For four-and-twenty hours nothing without wing may pass and +repass. Yet an hour earlier and our Duchess had been trapped on the +hither side even as we. But now she will sit and laugh up there in +Kernsberg. And--I cannot go back to Courtland without a bride!" + +Prince Ivan stood a moment silent. Then his eyes glanced over his +companion with a certain severe and amused curiosity. From foot to head +they scanned him, beginning at the shoes of red Cordovan leather, +following upwards to the great tassel he wore at his poignard; then came +the golden girdle about his waist, the flowered needlework at his wrists +and neck, and the scrutiny ended with the flat red cap on his head, from +which a white feather nodded over his left eye. + +Then the gaze of Prince Ivan returned again slowly to the pointed red +shoes of Cordovan leather. + +If there was anything so contemptuous as that eye-blink in the open +scorn of all the burghers of Courtland, Prince Louis was to be excused +for any hesitation he might show in facing his subjects. + +The matter of Prince Wasp's meditation ran somewhat thuswise: "Thou man, +fashioned from a scullion's nail-paring, and cocked upon a horse, what +can I make of thee? Thou, to have a country, a crown, a wife! Gudgeon +eats stickleback, jack-pike eats gudgeon and grows fat, till at last the +sturgeon in his armour eats him. I will fatten this jack. I will feed +him like the gudgeons of Kernsberg and Hohenstein, then take him with a +dainty lure indeed, black-tipped, with sleeves gay as cranes' wings, and +answering to the name of 'my lady Joan.' But wait--I must be wary, and +have a care lest I shadow his water." + +So saying within his heart, Prince Wasp became exceedingly thoughtful +and of a demure countenance. + +"My lord," he said, "this day's work will not go well down in Courtland, +I fear me!" + +Prince Louis moved uneasily, keeping his regard steadily upon the brown +turmoil of the Alla swirling beneath, whereas the eyes of Ivan were +never removed from his friend's meagre face. + +"Your true Courtlander is more than half a Muscovite," mused Prince +Wasp, as if thinking aloud; "he wishes not to be argued with. He wants a +master, and he will not love one who permits himself to be choused of a +wife upon his wedding-day!" + +Prince Louis started quickly as the Wasp's sting pricked him. + +"And pray, Prince Ivan," he said, "what could I have done that I left +undone? Speak plainly, since you are so prodigal of smiles suppressed, +so witty with covert words and shoulder-tappings!" + +"My Louis," said Prince Wasp, laying his hand upon the arm of his +companion with an affectation of tenderness. "I flout you not--I mock +you not. And if I speak harshly, it is only that I love not to see you +in your turn flouted, mocked, scorned, made light of before your own +people!" + +"I believe it, Ivan; pardon the heat of my hasty temper!" said the +Prince of Courtland. The watchful Muscovite pursued his advantage, +narrowing his eyes that he might the better note every change on the +face of the man whom he held in his toils. He went on, with a certain +resigned sadness in his voice-- + +"Ever since I came first to Courtland with the not dishonourable hope of +carrying back to my father a princess of your house, none have been so +amiable together as you and I. We have been even as David and Jonathan." + +The Prince Louis put out a hand, which apparently Ivan did not see, for +he continued without taking it. + +"Yet what have I gained either of solid good or even of the lighter but +not less agreeable matter of my lady's favour? So far as your sister is +concerned, I have wasted my time. If I consider the union of our +peoples, already one in heart, your brother works against us both; the +Princess Margaret despises me, Prince Conrad thwarts us. He would bind +us in chains and carry us tinkling to the feet of his pagan master in +Rome!" + +"I think not so," answered Prince Louis--"I cannot think so of my +brother, with all his faults. Conrad is a brave soldier, a good +knight--though, as is the custom of our house, it is his lot to be no +more than a prince-bishop!" + +The Wasp laughed a little hard laugh, clear and inhuman as the snap and +rattle of Spanish castanets. + +"Louis, my good friend, your simplicity, your lack of guile, do you +wrong most grievous! You judge others as you yourself are. Do you not +see that Conrad your brother must pay for his red hat? He must earn his +cardinalate. Papa Sixtus gives nothing for nothing. Courtland must pay +Peter's pence, must become monkish land. On every flake of stockfish, +every grain of sturgeon roe, every ounce of marled amber, your Holy +Father must levy his sacred dues. And the clear ambition of your brother +is to make you chief cat's-paw pontifical upon the Baltic shore. +Consider it, good Louis." + +And the Prince of Muscovy twirled his moustache and smiled +condescendingly between his fingers. Then, as if he thought suddenly of +something else and made a new calculation, he laughed a laugh, quick and +short as the barking of a dog. + +"Ha!" he cried, "truly we order things better in my country. I have +brothers, one, two, three. They are grand dukes, highnesses very serene. +One of them has this province, another this sinecure, yet another waits +on my father. My father dies--and I--well, I am in my father's place. +What will my brothers do with their serene highnesses then? They will +take each one the clearest road and the shortest for the frontier, or by +the Holy Icon of Moscow, there would very speedily be certain new +tablets in the funeral vault of my fathers." + +The Prince of Courtland started. + +"This thing I could never imagine of Conrad my brother. He loves me. At +heart he ever cared but for his books, and now that he is a priest he +hath forsworn knighthood, and tournaments, and wars." + +"Poor Louis," said Ivan sadly, "not to see that once a soldier always a +soldier. But 'tis a good fault, this generous blindness of the eyes. He +hath already the love of your people. He has won already the voice that +speaks from every altar and presbytery. The power to loose and bind +men's consciences is in his hand. In a little, when he has bartered away +your power for his cardinal's hat, he may be made a greater than +yourself, an elector of the empire, the right-hand man of Papa Sixtus, +as his uncle Adrian was before him. Then indeed your Courtland will +underlie the tinkle of Peter's keys!" + +"I am sure that Conrad would do nothing against his fatherland or to the +hurt of his prince and brother!" said Prince Louis, but he spoke in a +wavering voice, like one more than half convinced. + +"Again," continued Ivan, without heeding him, "there is your wife. I am +sure that if he had been the prince and you the priest--well, she had +not slept this night in the Castle of Kernsberg!" + +"Ivan, if you love me, be silent," cried the tortured Prince of +Courtland, setting his hand to his brow. "This is the mere idle dreaming +of a fool. How learned you these things? I mean how did the thoughts +enter into your mind?" + +"I learned the matter from the Princess Margaret, who in the brief space +of a day became your wife's confidante!" + +"Did Margaret tell it you?" + +The Prince Ivan laughed a short, self-depreciatory laugh. + +"Nay, truly," he said, smiling sadly, "you and I are in one despite, +Louis. Your wife scorns you--me, my sweetheart. Did Margaret tell me? +Nay, verily! Yet I learned it, nevertheless, even more certainly because +she denied it so vehemently. But, after all, I daresay all will end for +the best." + +"How so?" demanded Prince Louis haughtily. + +"Why, I have heard that your Papa at Rome will do aught for money. +Doubtless he will dissolve this marriage, which indeed is no more than +one in name. He has done more than that already for his own nephews. He +will absolve your brother from his vows. Then you can be the monk and he +the king. There will be a new marriage, at which doubtless you shall +hold the service book and he the lady's hand. Then we shall have no +ridings back to Kernsberg, with four hundred lances, at a word from a +girl's scornful mouth. And the Alla down there may rise or fall at its +pleasure, and neither hurt nor hinder any!" + +The Prince of Courtland turned an angry countenance upon his friend, but +the keen-witted Muscovite looked so kindly and yet so sadly upon him +that after awhile the severity of his face relaxed as it had been +against his will, and with a quick gesture he added, "I believe you love +me, Ivan, though indeed your words are no better than red-hot pincers in +my heart." + +"Love you, Louis?" cried Prince Ivan. "I love you better than any +brother I have, though they will never live to thwart me as yours +thwarts you--better even than my father, for you do not keep me out of +my inheritance!" + +Then in a gayer tone he went on. + +"I love you so much that I will pledge my father's whole army to help +you, first to win your wife, next to take Hohenstein, Kernsberg, and +Marienfeld. And after that, if you are still ambitious, why--to +Plassenburg and the Wolfmark, which now the Executioner's Son holds. +That would make a noble kingdom to offer a fair and wilful queen." + +"And for this you ask?" + +"Only your love, Louis--only your love! And, if it please you, the +alliance with that Princess of your honourable house, of whom we spoke +just now!" + +"My sister Margaret, you mean? I will do what I can, Ivan, but she also +is wilful. You know she is wilful! I cannot compel her love!" + +The Prince Ivan laughed. + +"I am not so complaisant as you, Louis, nor yet so modest. Give me my +bride on the day Joan of the Sword Hand sleeps in the palace of +Courtland as its princess, and I will take my chance of winning our +Margaret's love!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +WOMAN'S WILFULNESS + + +Joan rode on, silent, a furlong before her men. + +Behind her sulked Maurice von Lynar. Had any been there to note, their +faces were now strangely alike in feature, and yet more curiously unlike +in expression. Joan gazed forward into the distance like a soul dead and +about to be reborn, planning a new life. Maurice von Lynar looked more +like a naughty schoolboy whom some tyrant Fate, rod-wielding, has +compelled to obey against his will. + +Yet, in spite of expression, it was Maurice von Lynar who was planning +the future. Joan's heart was yet too sore. Her tree of life had, as it +were, been cut off close to the ground. She could not go back to the old +so soon after her blissful year of dreams. There was to be no new life +for her. She could not take up the old. But Maurice--his thoughts were +all for the Princess Margaret, of the ripple of her golden hair, of her +pretty wilful words and ways, of that dimple on her chin, and, above +all, of her threat to seek him out if--but it was not possible that she +could mean that. And yet she looked as though she might make good her +words. Was it possible? He posed himself with this question, and for +half an hour rode on oblivious of all else. + +"Eh?" he said at last, half conscious that some one had been speaking to +him from an infinite distance. "Eh? Did you speak, Captain von Orseln?" + +Von Orseln grunted out a little laugh, almost silently, indeed, and +expressed more by a heave of his shoulders than by any alteration of his +features. + +"Speak, indeed? As if I had not been speaking these five minutes. Well +nigh had I stuck my poignard in your ribs to teach you to mind your +superior officer. What think you of this business?" + +"Think?" the Sparhawk's disappointment burst out. "Think? Why, 'tis past +all thinking. Courtland is shut to us for twenty years." + +"Well," laughed Von Orseln, "who cares for that? Castle Kernsberg is +good enough for me, so we can hold it." + +"Hold it?" cried Maurice, with a kind of joy in his face; "do you think +they will come after us?" + +Von Orseln nodded approval of his spirit. + +"Yes, little man, yes," he said; "if you have been fretting to come to +blows with the Courtlanders you are in good case to be satisfied. I +would we had only these lumpish Baltic jacks to fear." + +Even as they talked Castle Kernsberg floated up like a cloud before them +above the blue and misty plain, long before they could distinguish the +walls and hundred gables of the town beneath. + +But no word spoke Joan till that purple shadow had taken shape as +stately stone and lime, and she could discern her own red lion flying +abreast of the banner of Louis of Courtland upon the topmost pinnacle of +the round tower. + +Then on a little mound without the town she halted and faced about. Von +Orseln halted the troop with a backward wave of the hand. + +"Men of Hohenstein," said the Duchess, in a clear, far-reaching alto, +"you have followed me, asking no word of why or wherefore. I have told +you nothing, yet is an explanation due to you." + +There came the sound as of a hoarse unanimous muttering among the +soldiers. Joan looked at Von Orseln as a sign for him to interpret it. + +"They say that they are Joan of the Sword Hand's men, and that they will +disembowl any man who wants to know what it may please you to keep +secret." + +"Aye, or question by so much as one lifted eyebrow aught that it may +please your Highness to do," added Captain Peter Balta, from the right +of the first troop. + +"I said that our Duchess could never live in such a dog's hole as their +Courtland," quoth George the Hussite, who, before he took service with +Henry the Lion, had been a heretic preacher. "In Bohemia, now, where the +pines grow----" + +"Hold your prate, all of you," growled Von Orseln, "or you will find +where hemp grows, and why! My lady," he added, altering his voice as he +turned to her, "be assured, no dog in Kernsberg will bark an +interrogative at you. Shall our young Duchess Joan be wived and bedded +like some little burgheress that sells laces and tape all day long on +the Axel-strasse? Shall the daughter of Henry the Lion be at the +commandment of any Bor-Russian boor, an it like her not? Shall she get a +burr in her throat with breathing the raw fogs of the Baltic? Not a +word, most gracious lady! Explain nothing. Extenuate nothing. It is the +will of Joan of the Sword Hand--that is enough; and, by the word of +Werner von Orseln, it shall be enough!" + +"It is the will of Joan of the Sword Hand! It is enough!" repeated the +four hundred lances, like a class that learns a lesson by rote. + +A lump rose in Joan's throat as she tried to shape into words the +thoughts that surged within. She felt strangely weak. Her pride was not +the same as of old, for the heart of a woman had grown up within her--a +heart of flesh. Surely that could not be a tear in her eye? No; the wind +blew shrewdly out of the west, to which they were riding. Von Orseln +noted the struggle and took up his parable once more. + +"The pact is carried out. The lands united--the will of Henry the Lion +done! What more? Shall the free Princess be the huswife of a yellow +Baltic dwarf? When we go into the town and they ask us, we will say but +this, 'Our Lady misliked the fashion of his beard!' That will be reason +good and broad and deep, sufficient alike for grey-haired carl and +prattling bairn!" + +"I thank you, noble gentlemen," said Joan. "Now, as you say, let us ride +into Kernsberg." + +"And pull down that flag!" cried Maurice, pointing to the black +Courtland Eagle which flew so steadily beside the coronated lion of +Kernsberg and Hohenstein. + +"And pray, sir, why?" quoth Joan of the Sword Hand. "Am I not also +Princess of Courtland?" + + * * * * * + +From woman's wilfulness all things somehow have their beginning. Yet of +herself she is content with few things (so that she have what she +wants), somewhat Spartan in fare if let alone, and no dinner-eating +animal. Wine, tobacco, caviare, Strasburg goose-liver--Epicurus's +choicest gifts to men of this world--are contemned by womankind. Left to +their own devices, they prefer a drench of sweet mead or hydromel laced +with water, or even of late the China brew that filters in black bricks +through the country of the Muscovite. Nevertheless, to woman's wantings +may be traced all restraints and judgments, from the sword flaming every +way about Eden-gate to the last merchant declared bankrupt and "dyvour" +upon the exchange flags of Hamburg town. Eve did not eat the apple when +she got it. She hasted to give it away. She only wanted it because it +had been forbidden. + +So also Joan of Hohenstein desired to go down with Dessauer that she +might look upon the man betrothed to her from birth. She went. She +looked, and, as the tale tells, within her there grew a heart of flesh. +Then, when the stroke fell, that heart uprose in quick, intemperate +revolt. And what might have issued in the dull compliance of a princess +whose life was settled for her, became the imperious revolt of a woman +against an intolerable and loathsome impossibility. + +So in her castle of Kernsberg Joan waited. But not idly. All day long +and every day Maurice von Lynar rode on her service. The hillmen +gathered to his word, and in the courtyard the stormy voices of George +the Hussite and Peter Balta were never hushed. The shepherds from the +hills went to and fro, marching and countermarching, wheeling and +charging, porting musket and thrusting pike, till all Kernsberg was +little better than a barracks, and the maidens sat wet-eyed at their +knitting by the fire and thought, "Well for Her to please herself whom +she shall marry--but how about us, with never a lad in the town to +whistle us out in the gloaming, or to thumb a pebble against the +window-lattice from the deep edges of the ripening corn?" + +But there were two, at least, within the realm of the Duchess Joan who +knew no drawbacks to their joy, who rubbed palm on palm and nudged each +other for pure gladness. These (it is sad to say) were the military +_attachés_ of the neighbouring peaceful State of Plassenburg. Yet they +had been specially cautioned by their Prince Hugo, in the presence of +his wife Helene, the hereditary Princess, that they were most carefully +to avoid all international complications. They were on no account to +take sides in any quarrel. Above all they must do nothing prejudicial to +the peace, neutrality, and universal amity of the State and Princedom of +Plassenburg. Such were these instructions. + +They promised faithfully. + +But, their names being Captains Boris and Jorian, they now rubbed their +hands and nudged each other. They ought to have been in their chamber in +the Castle of Kernsberg, busily concocting despatches to their master +and mistress, giving an account of these momentous events. + +Instead, how is it that we find them lying on that spur of the +Jägernbergen which overlooks the passes of Alla, watching the gathering +of the great storm which in the course of days must break over the +domains of the Duchess Joan--who had refused and slighted her wedded +husband, Louis, Prince of Courtland? + +Being both powerfully resourceful men, long lean Boris and rotund Jorian +had found a way out of the apparent difficulty. There had come with +them from Plassenburg a commission written upon an entire square of +sheepskin by a secretary and sealed with the seal of Leopold von +Dessauer, High Councillor of the United Princedom and Duchy, bearing +that "In the name of Hugo and Helene our well-loved lieges Captains +Boris and Jorian are empowered to act and treat," and so forth. This +momentous deed was tied about the middle with a red string, and +presented withal so courtly and respectable an appearance to the +uncritical eyes of the ex-men-at-arms themselves, that they felt almost +anything excusable which they might do in its name. + +Before leaving Kernsberg, therefore, Boris placed this great red-waisted +parchment roll in his bed, leaning it angle-wise against his pillow. +Jorian tossed a spare dagger with the arms of Plassenburg beside it. + +"There--let the civil power and the military for once lie down +together!" he said. "We delegate our authority to these two during our +absence!" + +To the silent Plassenburgers who had accompanied them, and who now kept +their door with unswerving attention, Boris explained himself briefly. + +"Remember," he said, "when you are asked, that the envoys of Plassenburg +are ill--ill of a dangerous and most contagious disease. Also, they are +asleep. They must on no account be waked. The windows must be kept +darkened. It is a great pity. You are desolated. You understand. The +first time I have more money than I can spend you shall have ten marks!" + +The men-at-arms understood, which was no wonder, for Boris generally +contrived to make himself very clear. But they thought within them that +their chances of financial benefit from their captain's conditional +generosity were worth about one sole stiver. + +So these two, being now free fighting-men, as it were, soldiers of +fortune, lay waiting on the slopes of the Jägernbergen, talking over the +situation. + +"A man surely has a right to his own wife!" said Jorian, taking for the +sake of argument the conventional side. + +"_Narren-possen_, Jorian!" cried Boris, raising his voice to the +indignation point. "Clotted nonsense! Who is going to keep a man's wife +for him if he cannot do it himself? And he a prince, and within his own +city and fortress, too. She boxed his ears, they say, and rode away, +telling him that if he wanted her he might come and take her! A pretty +spirit, i' faith! Too good for such a dried stockfish of the Baltic, +with not so much soul as a speckled flounder on his own mud-flats! +Faith! if I were a marrying man, I would run off with the lass myself. +She ought at least to be a soldier's wife." + +"The trouble is that so far she feels no necessity to be any one's +wife," said Jorian, shifting his ground. + +"That also is nonsense," said Boris, who, spite his defence of Joan, +held the usual masculine views. "Every woman wishes to marry, if she can +only have first choice." + +"There they come!" whispered Jorian, whose eyes had never wandered from +the long wavering lines of willow and alder which marked the courses of +the sluggish streams flowing east toward the Alla. + +Boris rose to his feet and looked long beneath his hand. Very far away +there was a sort of white tremulousness in the atmosphere which after a +while began to give off little luminous glints and sparkles, as the sea +does when a shaft of moonlight touches it through a dark canopy of +cloud. + +Then there arose from the level green plain first one tall column of +dense black smoke and then another, till as far as they could see to the +left the plain was full of them. + +"God's truth!" cried Jorian, "they are burning the farms and herds' +houses. I thought they had been Christians in Courtland. But these are +more like Duke Casimir's devil's tricks." + +Boris did not immediately answer. His eyes were busy seeing, his brain +setting in order. + +"I tell you what," he said at last, in a tone of intense interest, +"these are no fires lighted by Courtlanders. The heavy Baltic knights +could never ride so fast nor spread so wide. The Muscovite is out! These +are Cossack fires. Bravo, Jorian! we shall yet have our Hugo here with +his axe! He will never suffer the Bear so near his borders." + +"Let us go down," said Jorian, "or we shall miss some of the fun. In two +good hours they will be at the fords of the Alla!" + +So they looked to their arms and went down. + +"What do you here? Go back!" shouted Werner von Orseln, who with his men +lay waiting behind the floodbanks of the Alla. "This is not your +quarrel! Go back, Plassenburgers!" + +"We have for the time being demitted our office," Boris exclaimed. "The +envoys of Plassenburg are at home in bed, sick of a most sanguinary +fever. We offer you our swords as free fighting-men and good Teuts. The +Muscovites are over yonder. Lord, to think that I have lived to +forty-eight and never yet killed even one bearded Russ!" + +"You may mend that record shortly, to all appearance, if you have luck!" +said Von Orseln grimly. "And this gentleman here," he added, looking at +Jorian, "is he also in bed, sick?" + +"My sword is at your service," said the round one, "though I should +prefer a musketoon, if it is all the same to you. It will be something +to do till these firebrands come within arm's length of us." + +"I have here two which are very much at your service, if you know how to +use them!" said Werner. + +The men-at-arms laughed. + +"We know their tricks better than those of our sweethearts!" they said, +"and those we know well!" + +"Here they be, then," said Von Orseln. "I sent a couple of men spurring +to warn my Lady Joan, and I bade them leave their muskets and bandoliers +till they came back, that they might ride the lighter to and from +Kernsberg." + +Boris and Jorian took the spare pieces with a glow of gratitude, which +was, however, very considerably modified when they discovered the state +in which their former owners had kept them. + +"Dirty Wendish pigs," they said (which was their favourite malediction, +though they themselves were Wend of the Wends). "Were they but an hour +in our camp they should ride the wooden horse with these very muskets +tied to their soles to keep them firmly down. Faugh!" + +And Jorian withdrew his finger from the muzzle, black as soot with the +grease of uncleansed powder. + +Looking up, they saw that the priest with the little army of Kernsberg +was praying fervently (after the Hussite manner, without book) for the +safety of the State and person of their lady Duchess, and that the men +were listening bareheaded beneath the green slope of the water-dyke. + +"Go on cleaning," said Boris; "this is some heretic function, and might +sap our morality. We are volunteers, at any rate, as well as the best of +good Catholics. We do not need unlicensed prayers. If you have quite +done with that rag stick, lend it to me, Jorian!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CAPTAINS BORIS AND JORIAN PROMOTE PEACE + + +Now this is the report which Captains Boris and Jorian, envoys (very) +extraordinary from the Prince and Princess of Plassenburg to the +reigning Duchess of Hohenstein, made to their home government upon their +return from the fords of the Alla. + +They wrote it in collaboration, on the usual plan of one working and the +other assisting him with advice. + +Jorian, being of the rotund and complaisant faction, acquiesced in the +proposal that he should do the writing. But as he never got beyond "To +our honoured Lord and Lady, Hugo and Helene, these----" there needs not +to be any particularity as to his manner of acting the scribe. He mended +at a pen till it looked like a brush worn to the straggling point. He +squared his elbows suddenly and overset the inkhorn. He daubed an entire +folio of paper with a completeness which left nothing to the +imagination. + +Then he remembered that he knew where a secretary was in waiting. He +would go and borrow him. Jorian re-entered their bedroom with a beaming +smile, and the secretary held by the sleeve to prevent his escape. Both +felt that already the report was as good as written. It began thus:-- + +"With great assiduity (a word suggested by the secretary) your envoys +remembered your Highnesses' princely advice and command that we should +involve ourselves in no warfare or other local disagreement. So when we +heard that Hohenstein was to be invaded by the troops of the Prince of +Courtland we were deeply grieved. + +"Nevertheless, judging it to be for the good of our country that we +should have a near view of the fighting, we left worthy and assured +substitutes in our place and room----" + +"The parchment commission with a string round his belly!" explained +Jorian, in answer to the young secretary's lifted eyebrow; "there he is, +hiding behind the faggot-chest." + +"Get on, Boris," quoth Jorian, from the settee on which he had thrown +himself; "it is your turn to lie." + +"Good!" says Boris. And did it as followeth:-- + +"We left our arms behind us----" + +"Such as we could not carry," added Jorian under his breath. The +secretary, a wise youth--full of the new learning and of talk concerning +certain books printed on paper and bound all with one _druck_ of a great +machine like a cheese-press--held his pen suspended over the paper in +doubt what to write. + +"Do not mind him," said Boris. "_I_ am dictating this report." + +"Yes, my lord!" replied the secretary from behind his hand. + +"We left our arms and armour behind us, and went out to make +observations in the interest of your Highnesses' armies. Going down +through the woods we saw many wild swine, exceeding fierce. But having +no means of hunting these, we evaded them, all save one, which +misfortunately met its death by falling against a spear in the hands of +Captain Boris, and another, also of the male sex, shot dead by Jorian's +pistol, which went off by accident as it was passing." + +"I have already written that your arms were left at home, according to +your direction," said the secretary, who was accustomed to criticise the +composition of diplomatic reports. + +"Pshaw!" growled Boris, bending his brow upon such superfluity of +virtue; "a little thing like that will never be noticed. Besides, a man +must carry something. We had no cannon or battering rams with us, +therefore we were unarmed--to all intents and purposes, that is." + +The secretary sighed. Verily life (as Von Orseln averred) must be easy +in Plassenburg, if such stories would pass with the Prince. And now it +seemed as if they would. + +"We found the soldiers of the Duchess Joan waiting at the fords of the +Alla, which is the eastern border of their province. There were not many +of them, but all good soldiers. The Courtlanders came on in myriads, +with Muscovites without number. These last burned and slew all in their +path. Now the men of Hohenstein are good to attack, but their fault is +that they are not patient to defend. So it came to pass that not long +after we arrived at the fords of the Alla, one Werner von Orseln, +commander of the soldiers of the Duchess, ordered that his men should +attack the Courtlanders in front. Whereupon they crossed the ford, when +they should have stayed behind their shelter. It was bravely done, but +had better have been left undone. + +"Remembering, however, your orders and our duty, we advanced with him, +hoping that by some means we might be able to promote peace. + +"This we did. For (wonderful as it may appear) we convinced no fewer +than ten Muscovites whom we found sacking a farm, and their companions, +four sutlers of Courtland, that it was wrong to slay and ravish in a +peaceful country. In the heat of the argument Captain Boris received a +bullet through his shoulder which caused us for the time being to cease +our appeal and fall back. The Muscovites, however, made no attempt to +follow us. Our arguments had been sufficient to convince them of the +wickedness of their deed. We hope to receive your princely approval of +this our action--peace being, in our opinion, the greatest blessing +which any nation can enjoy. For without flattery we may say that if +others had argued with equal persuasiveness, the end would have been +happier. + +"Then, being once more behind the flood-dykes of the Alla, Captain +Jorian examined the hurt of Captain Boris which he had received in the +peace negotiations with the Muscovites. It was but a flesh wound, +happily, and was soon bound up. But the pain of it acted upon both your +envoys as an additional incentive to put a stop to the horrors of war. + +"So when a company of the infantry of Courtland, with whom we had +hitherto had no opportunity of wrestling persuasively, attacked the +fords, wading as deep as mid-thigh, we took upon us to rebuke them for +their forwardness. And accordingly they desisted, some retreating to the +further shore, while others, finding the water pleasant, remained, and +floated peacefully down with the current. + +"This also, in some measure, made for peace, and we humbly hope for the +further approval of your Highnesses, when you have remarked our careful +observance of all your instructions. + +"If only we had had with us our several companies of the Regiment of +Karl the Miller's Son to aid us in the discussion, more Cossacks and +Strelits might have been convinced, and the final result have been +different. Nevertheless, we did what we could, and were successful with +many beyond our hopes. + +"But the men of Hohenstein being so few, and those of Courtland with +their allies so many, the river was overpassed both above and below the +fords. Whereupon I pressed it upon Werner von Orseln that he should +retreat to a place of greater hope and safety, being thus in danger on +both flanks. + +"For your envoys have a respect for Werner von Orseln, though we grieve +to report that, being a man of war from his youth up, he does not +display that desire for peace which your good counsels have so deeply +implanted in our breasts, and which alone animates the hearts of Boris +and Jorian, captains in the princely guard of Plassenburg." + +"Put that in, till I have time to think what is to come next!" said +Boris, waving his hand to the secretary. "We are doing pretty well, I +think!" he added, turning to his companion with all the self-conscious +pride of an amateur in words. + +"Let us now tell more about Von Orseln, and how he would in no wise +listen to us!" suggested Jorian. "But let us not mix the mead too +strong! Our Hugo is shrewd!" + +"This Werner von Orseln (be it known to your High Graciousnesses) was +the chief obstacle in the way of our making peace--except, perhaps, +those Muscovites with whom we were unable to argue, having no +opportunity. This Werner had fought all the day, and, though most +recklessly exposing himself, was still unhurt. His armour was covered +with blood and black with powder after the fashion of these wild +hot-bloods. His face also was stained, and when he spoke it was in a +hoarse whisper. The matter of his discourse to us was this:-- + +"'I can do no more. My people are dead, my powder spent. They are more +numerous than the sea-sands. They are behind us and before, also +outflanking us on either side.' + +"Then we advised him to set his face to Hohenstein and with those who +were left to him to retreat in that direction. We accompanied him, +bearing in mind your royal commands, and eager to do all that in us lay +to advance the interests of amity. The enemy fetched a compass to close +us in on every side. + +"Whereupon we argued with them again to the best of our ability. There +ensued some slight noise and confusion, so that Captain Boris forgot his +wound, and Captain Jorian admits that in his haste he may have spoken +uncivilly to several Bor-Russian gentry who thrust themselves in his +way. And for this unseemly conduct he craves the pardon of their +Highnesses Hugo and Helene, his beloved master and mistress. However, as +no complaint has been received from the enemy's headquarters, no breach +of friendly relations may be apprehended. Captain Boris is of opinion +that the Muscovite boors did not understand Captain Jorian's Teuton +language. At least they were not observed to resent his words. + +"In this manner were the invaders of Hohenstein broken through, and the +remnant of the soldiers of the Duchess Joan reached Kernsberg in +safety--a result which, we flatter ourselves, was as much due to the +zeal and amicable persuasiveness of your envoys as to the skill and +bravery of Werner von Orseln and the soldiers of the Duchess. + +"And your humble servants will ever pray for the speedy triumph of peace +and concord, and also for an undisturbed reign to your Highnesses +through countless years. In token whereof we append our signatures and +seals. + + "BORIS + "JORIAN." + +"Is not that last somewhat overstrained about peace and concord and so +forth?" asked Jorian anxiously. + +"Not a whit--not a whit!" cried Boris, who, having finished his +composition, was wholly satisfied with himself, after the manner of the +beginner in letters. "Our desire to promote peace needs to be put +strongly, in order to carry persuasion to their Highnesses in +Plassenburg. In fact, I am not sure that it has been put strongly +enough!" + +"I am troubled with some few doubts myself!" said Jorian, under his +breath. + +And as the secretary jerked the ink from his pen he smiled. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +JOAN STANDS WITHIN HER DANGER + + +So soon as Werner von Orseln returned to Castle Kernsberg with news of +the forcing of the Alla and the overwhelming numbers of the Muscovite +hordes, the sad-eyed Duchess of Hohenstein became once more Joan of the +Sword Hand. + +Hitherto she had doubted and feared. But now the thought of Prince Wasp +and his Muscovite savages steadied her, and she was here and there, in +every bastion of the Castle, looking especially to the gates which +commanded the roads to Courtland and Plassenburg. + +Her one thought was, "Will _he_ be here?" + +And again she saw the knight of the white plume storm through the lists +of Courtland, and the enemy go down before him. Ah, if only----! + +[Illustration: "Captain Boris was telling a story." [_Page 127_]] + +The invading army must have numbered thirty thousand, at least. There +were, all told, about two thousand spears in Kernsberg. Von Orseln, +indeed, could easily have raised more. Nay, they would have come in of +themselves by hundreds to fight for their Duchess, but the little hill +town could not feed more. Yet Joan was not discouraged. She joked with +Peter Balta upon the louts of Courtlanders taking the Castle which Henry +the Lion had fortified. The Courtlanders, indeed! Had not Duke Casimir +assaulted Kernsberg in vain, and even the great Margraf George +threatened it? Yet still it remained a virgin fortress, looking out over +the fertile and populous plain. But now what were left of the +shepherds had fled to the deep-bosomed mountains with their flocks. The +cattle were hidden in the thickest woods; only the white farm-houses +remained tenantless, silently waiting the coming of the spoiler. And, +stripped for combat, Castle Kernsberg looked out towards the invader, +the rolling plain in front of it, and behind the grim intricate hill +country of Hohenstein. + +When Werner von Orseln and Peter Balta met the invader at the fords of +the Alla, Maurice von Lynar and Alt Pikker had remained with Joan, +nominally to assist her dispositions, but really to form a check upon +the impetuosity of her temper. + +Now Von Orseln was back again. The fords of the Alla were forced, and +the fighting strength of Kernsberg united itself in the Eagle's Nest to +make its final stand. + +Aloft on the highest ramparts there was a terrace walk which the +Sparhawk much affected, especially when he was on guard at night. It +looked towards the east, and from it the first glimpse of the +Courtlanders would be obtained. + +In the great hall of the guard they were drinking their nightly toast. +The shouting might have been heard in the town, where at street corners +were groups of youths exercising late with wooden spears and mimic +armour, crying "Hurrah, Kernsberg!" + +They changed it, however, in imitation of their betters in the Castle +above. + +"_Joan of the Sword Hand! Hoch!_" + +The shout went far into the night. Again and yet again it was repeated +from about the crowded board in the hall of the men-at-arms and from the +gloomy streets beneath. + +When all was over, the Sparhawk rose, belted his sword a hole or two +tighter, set a steel cap without a visor upon his head, glanced at +Werner von Orseln, and withdrew, leaving the other captains to their +free-running jest and laughter. Captain Boris of Plassenburg was telling +a story with a countenance more than ordinarily grave and earnest, +while the table round rang with contagious mirth. + +The Sparhawk found the high terrace of the Lion Tower guarded by a +sentry. Him he removed to the foot of the turret-stair, with orders to +permit no one save Werner von Orseln to pass on any pretext. + +Presently the chief captain's step was heard on the stone turnpike. + +"Ha, Sparhawk," he cried, "this is cold cheer! Why could we not have +talked comfortably in hall, with a beaker of mead at one's elbow?" + +"The enemy are not in sight," said the Sparhawk gloomily. + +"Well, that is bad luck," said Werner; "but do not be afraid, you will +have your chance yet--indeed, all you want and a little over--in the way +of killing of Muscovites." + +"I wanted to speak with you on a matter we cannot mention elsewhere," +said Maurice von Lynar. + +The chief captain stopped in his stride, drew his cloak about him, +rested his thigh on a square battlement, and resigned himself. + +"Well," he said, "youth has ever yeasty brains. Go on." + +"I would speak of my lady!" said the youth. + +"So would most mooncalves of your age!" growled Werner; "but they do not +usually bring their commanding officers up to the housetops to do it!" + +"I mean our lady, the Duchess Joan!" + +"Ah," said Werner, with the persiflage gone out of his tone, "that is +altogether another matter!" + +And the two men were silent for a minute, both looking out into the +blackness where no stars shone or any light twinkled beyond the walls of +the little fortified hill town. + +At last Maurice von Lynar spoke. + +"How long can we hold out if they besiege us?" + +"Two months, certainly--with luck, three!" + +"And then?" + +Werner von Orseln shrugged his shoulders, but only said, "A soldier +never anticipates disaster!" + +"And what of the Duchess Joan?" persisted the young man. + +"Why, in the same space of time she will be dead or wed!" said Von +Orseln, with an affectation of carelessness easily seen through. + +The young man burst out, "Dead she may be! I know she will never be wife +to that Courtland Death's-head. I saw it in her eyes that day in their +cathedral, when she bade me slip out and bring up our four hundred +lances of Kernsberg." + +"Like enough," said Werner shortly. "I, for one, set no bounds to any +woman's likings or mislikings!" + +"We must get her away to a place of safety," said the young man. + +Von Orseln laughed. + +"Get her? Who would persuade or compel our lady? Whither would she go? +Would she be safer there than here? Would the Courtlander not find out +in twenty-four hours that there was no Joan of the Sword Hand in +Kernsberg, and follow on her trail? And lastly--question most pertinent +of all--what had you to drink down there in hall, young fellow?" + +The Sparhawk did not notice the last question, nor did he reply in a +similarly jeering tone. + +"We must persuade her--capture her, compel her, if necessary. Kernsberg +cannot for long hold out against both the Muscovite and the Courtlander. +Save good Jorian and Boris, who will lie manfully about their fighting, +there is no help for us in mortal man. So this is what we must do to +save our lady!" + +"What? Capture Joan of the Sword Hand and carry her off? The mead buzzes +in the boy's head. He grows dotty with anxiety and too much hard ale. +'Ware, Maurice--these battlements are not over high. I will relieve you, +lad! Go to bed and sleep it off!" + +"Von Orseln," said the youth, with simple earnestness, not heeding his +taunts, "I have thought deeply. I see no way out of it but this. Our +lady will eagerly go on reconnaissance if you represent it as necessary. +You must take ten good men and ride north, far north, even to the edges +of the Baltic, to a place I know of, which none but I and one other can +find. There, with a few trusty fellows to guard her, she will be safe +till the push of the times is over." + +The chief captain was silent. He had wholly dropped his jeering mood. + +"There is nothing else that I can see for it," the young Dane went on, +finding that Werner did not speak. "Our Joan will never go to Courtland +alive. She will not be carried off on Prince Louis' saddle-bow, as a +Cossack might carry off a Circassian slave!" + +"But how," said Von Orseln, meditating, "will you prevent her absence +being known? The passage of so large a party may easily be traced and +remembered. Though our folk are true enough and loyal enough, sooner or +later what is known in the Castle is known in the town, and what is +known in the town becomes known to the enemy!" + +Maurice von Lynar leaned forward towards his chief captain and whispered +a few words in his ear. + +"Ah!" he said, and nodded. Then, after a pause for thought, he added, +"That is none so ill thought on for a beardless younker! I will think it +over, sleep on it, and tell you my opinion to-morrow!" + +The youth tramped to and fro on the terrace, muttering to himself. + +"Good-night, Sparhawk!" said Von Orseln, from the top of the corkscrew +stair, as he prepared to descend; "go to bed. I will send Alt Pikker to +command the house-guard to-night. Do you get straightway between the +sheets as soon as maybe. If this mad scheme comes off you will need your +beauty-sleep with a vengeance! So take it now!" + +"At any rate," the chief captain growled to himself, "you have set a +pretty part for me. I may forthwith order my shroud. I shall never be +able to face my lady again!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE CHIEF CAPTAIN'S TREACHERY + + +The Duchess Joan was in high spirits. It had been judged necessary, in +consultation with her chief officers, to ride a reconnaissance in person +in order to ascertain whether the advancing enemy had cut Kernsberg off +towards the north. On this matter Von Orseln thought that her Highness +had better judge for herself. Here at last was something definite to be +done. It was almost like the old foraying days, but now in a more +desperate cause. + +Ten days before, Joan's maidens and her aged nurse had been sent for +safety into Plassenburg, under escort of Captains Boris and Jorian as +far as the frontier--who had, however, returned in time to accompany the +party of observation on their ride northward. + +No one in all Castle Kernsberg was to know of the departure of this +cavalcade. Shortly before midnight the horses were to be ready under the +Castle wall. The Sparhawk was appointed to command the town during Von +Orseln's absence. Ten men only were to go, and these picked and sifted +riders--chosen because of their powers of silence--and because, being +unmarried, they had no wives to worm secrets out of them. Sweethearts +they might have, but then, in Kernsberg at least, that is a very +different thing. + +Finally, having written to their princely master in Plassenburg, that +they were leaving on account of the war--in which, as envoys +extraordinary, they did not desire to be further mixed up--Captains +Boris and Jorian made them ready to accompany the reconnaissance. It +proved to be a dark and desperate night of storm and rain. The stars +were ever and anon concealed by the thick pall of cloud which the wind +from the south drove hurtling athwart them. Joan herself was in the +highest spirits. She wore a long blue cloak, which completely concealed +the firmly knit slender figure, clad in forester's dress, from prying +eyes. + +As for Werner von Orseln, that high captain was calm and grave as usual, +but the rest of the ten men were plainly nervous, as they fingered their +bridle-reins and avoided looking at each other while they waited in +readiness to mount. + +With a clatter of hoofs they were off, none in the Castle knowing more +than that Werner the chief captain rode out on his occasions. A townsman +or two huddled closer among his blankets as the clatter and jingle of +the horses mingled with the sharp volleying of the rain upon his +wind-beaten lattice, while the long _whoo_ of the wind sang of troublous +times in the twisted chimneys overhead. + +Joan, as the historian has already said, was in high spirits. + +"Werner," she cried, as soon as they were clear of the town, "if we +strike the enemy to-night, I declare we will draw sword and ride through +them." + +"_If_ we strike them to-night, right so, my lady!" returned Werner +promptly. + +But he had the best of reasons for knowing that they would not strike +any enemy that night. His last spy from the north had arrived not half +an hour before they started, having ridden completely round the enemy's +host. + +Joan and her chief captain rode on ahead, Von Orseln glancing keenly +about him, and Joan riding free and careless, as in the old days when +she overpassed the hills to drive a prey from the lands of her father's +enemies. + +It was grey morning when they came to a goatherd's hut at the top of the +green valley. Already they had passed the bounds of Hohenstein by half a +dozen miles. The goatherd had led his light-skipping train to the hills +for the day, and the rude and chaotic remains of his breakfast were +still on the table. Boris and Jorian cleared these away, and, with the +trained alacrity of seasoned men-at-arms, they placed before the party a +breakfast prepared with speed out of what they had brought with them and +those things which they had found to their hand by foraging in the +larder of the goatherd--to wit, sliced neat's-tongue dried in the smoke, +and bread of fine wheat which Jorian had carried all the way in a net at +his saddle-bow. Boris had charge of the wine-skins, and upon a shelf +above the door they found a great butter-pot full of freshly made curded +goats' milk, very delicious both to taste and smell. + +Of these things they ate and drank largely, Joan and Von Orseln being +together at the upper end of the table. Boris and Jorian had to sit with +them, though much against their wills, being (spite of their +sweethearts) more accustomed to the company of honest men-at-arms than +to the practice of dainty eating in ladies' society. + +Joan undertook to rally them upon their loves, for whose fair fingers, +as it has been related in an earlier chapter, she had given them rings. + +"And how took your Katrin the ring, Boris?" she said, looking at him +past the side of her glass. For Jorian had bethought him to bring one +for the Duchess, the which he cleansed and cooled at the spring without. +As for the others, they all drank out of one wooden whey-cog, as was +most fitting. + +"Why, she took it rarely," said honest Boris, "and swore to love me more +than ever for it. We are to be married upon my first return to +Plassenburg." + +"Which, perhaps, is the reason why you are in no hurry to return +thither, seeing that you stopped short at the frontier last week?" said +the Duchess shrewdly. + +"Nay, my lady, that grieved me sore--for, indeed, we love each other +dearly, Katrin and I," persisted Captain Boris, thinking, as was his +custom, to lie himself out of it by dint of the mere avoirdupois of +asseveration. + +"That is the greater marvel," returned the lady, smiling upon him, +"because when last I spoke with you concerning the matter, her name was +not Katrin, but Gretchen!" + +Boris was silent, as well he might be, for even as he lied he had had +some lurking suspicion of this himself. He felt that he could hope to +get no further by this avenue. + +The lady now turned to Jorian, who, having digested the defeat and shame +of Boris, was ready to be very indignant at his companion for having +claimed his sweetheart. + +"And you, Captain Jorian," she said, "how went it with you? Was your +ring well received?" + +"Aye, marry," said that gallant captain, "better than well. Much better! +Never did I see woman so grateful. Katrin, whom this long, wire-drawn, +splenetic fool hath lyingly claimed as his (by some trick of tongue born +of his carrying the malmsey at his saddle-bow)--Katrin, I say, did kiss +and clip me so that my very soul fainted within me. She could not make +enough of the giver of such a precious thing as your Highness's ring?" + +Jorian in his own estimation was doing very well. He thought he could +yet better it. + +"Her eyes sparkled with joy. Her hands twitched--she could not keep them +from turning the pretty jewel about upon her finger. She swore never to +part with it while life lasted----" + +"Then," said Joan, smiling, "have no more to do with her. She is a false +wench and mansworn. For do not I see it upon the little finger of your +left hand at this moment? Nay, do not turn the stone within. I know my +gift, and will own it even if your Katrin (was it not?) hath despised +it. What say you now to that, Jorian?" + +"My lady," faltered Jorian, striving manfully to recover himself, "when +I came again in the honourable guise of an ambassador to Kernsberg, +Katrin gave it back again to me, saying, 'You have no signet ring. Take +this, so that you be not ashamed among those others. Keep it for me. I +myself will place it on your finger with a loving kiss.'" + +"Well done, Captain Jorian, you are a somewhat better liar than your +friend. But still your excuses should accord better. The ring I gave you +is not a signet ring. That Katrin of yours must have been ignorant +indeed." + +With these words Joan of the Sword Hand rose to her feet, for the +ex-men-at-arms had not so much as a word to say. + +"Let us now mount and ride homeward," she said; "there are no enemy to +be found on this northerly road. We shall be more fortunate upon another +occasion." + +Then Werner Von Orseln nerved himself for a battle more serious than any +he had ever fought at the elbow of Henry the Lion of Hohenstein. + +"My lady," he said, standing up and bowing gravely before her, "you see +here eleven men who love you far above their lives, of whom I am the +chief. Two others also there are, who, though not of our nation, are in +heart joined to us, especially in this thing that we have done. With all +respect, your Highness cannot go back. We have come out, not to make a +reconnaissance, but to put your Grace in a place of safety till the +storm blows over." + +The Duchess had slowly risen to her feet, with her hand on the sword +which swung at her belt. + +"You have suddenly gone mad, Werner!" she said; "let us have no more of +this. I bid you mount and ride. Back to Kernsberg, I say! Ye are not +such fools and traitors as to deliver the maiden castle, the Eagle's +Nest of Hohenstein, into the hands of our enemies?" + +"Nay," said Von Orseln, looking steadily upon the ground, "that will we +not do. Kernsberg is in good hands, and will fight bravely. But we +cannot hold out with our few folk and scanty provender against the +leaguer of thirty thousand. Nevertheless we will not permit you to +sacrifice yourself for our sakes or for the sake of the women and +children of the city." + +Joan drew her sword. + +"Werner von Orseln, will you obey me, or must I slay you with my hand?" +she cried. + +The chief captain yet further bowed his head and abased his eyes. + +"We have thought also of this," he made answer. "Me you may kill, but +these that are with me will defend themselves, though they will not +strike one they love more than their lives. But man by man we have sworn +to do this thing. At all hazards you must abide in our hands till the +danger is overpast. For me (this he added in a deeper tone), I am your +immediate officer. There is none to come between us. It is your right to +slay me if you will. Mine is the responsibility for this deed, though +the design was not mine. Here is my sword. Slay your chief captain with +it if you will. He has faithfully served your house for five-and-thirty +years. 'Tis perhaps time he rested now." + +And with these words Werner von Orseln took his sword by the point and +offered the hilt to his mistress. + +Joan of the Sword Hand shook with mingled passion and helplessness, and +her eyes were dark and troublous. + +"Put up your blade," she said, striking aside the hilt with her hand; +"if you have not deserved death, no more have I deserved this! But you +said that the design was not yours. Who, then, has dared to plot against +the liberty of Joan of Hohenstein?" + +"I would I could claim the honour," said Werner the chief captain; "but +truly the matter came from Maurice von Lynar the Dane. It is to his +mother, who after the death of her brother, the Count von Lynar, +continued to dwell in a secret strength on the Baltic shore, that we are +conducting your Grace!" + +"Maurice von Lynar?" exclaimed Joan, astonished. "He remains in Castle +Kernsberg, then?" + +"Aye," said Werner, relieved by her tone, "he will take your place when +danger comes. In morning twilight or at dusk he makes none so ill a +Lady Duchess, and, i' faith, his 'sword hand' is brisk enough. If the +town be taken, better that he than you be found in Castle Kernsberg. Is +the thing not well invented, my lady?" + +Werner looked up hopefully. He thought he had pleaded his cause well. + +"Traitor! Supplanter!" cried Joan indignantly; "this Dane in my place! I +will hang him from the highest window in the Castle of Kernsberg if ever +I win back to mine own again!" + +"My lady," said Werner, gently and respectfully, "your servant Von Lynar +bade me tell you that he would as faithfully and loyally take your place +now as he did on a former occasion!" + +"Ah," said Joan, smiling wanly with a quick change of mood, "I hope he +will be more ready to give up his privileges on this occasion than on +that!" + +She was thinking of the Princess Margaret and the heritage of trouble +upon which, as the Count von Löen, she had caused the Sparhawk to enter. + +Then a new thought seemed to strike her. + +"But my nurse and my women--how can he keep the imposture secret? He may +pass before the stupid eyes of men. But they----" + +"If your Highness will recollect, they have been sent out of harm's way +into Plassenburg. There is not a woman born of woman in all the Castle +of Kernsberg!" + +"Yes," mused Joan, "I have indeed been fairly cozened. I gave that order +also by the Dane's advice. Well, let him have his run. We will reeve him +a firm collar of hemp at the end of it, and maybe for Werner von Orseln +also, as a traitor alike to his bread and his mistress. Till then I hope +you will both enjoy playing your parts." + +The chief captain bowed. + +"I am content, my lady," he said respectfully. + +"Now, good jailers all," cried Joan, "lead on. I will follow. Or would +you prefer to carry me with you handcuffed and chained? I will go with +you in whatsoever fashion seemeth good to my masters!" + +She paused and looked round the little goatherd's hut. + +"Only," she said, nodding her head, "I warn you I will take my own time +and manner of coming back!" + +There was a deep silence as the men drew their belts tighter and +prepared to mount and depart. + +"About that time, Jorian," whispered Boris as they went out, "you and I +will be better in Plassenburg than within the bounds of Kernsberg--for +our health's sake and our sweethearts', that is!" + +"Good!" said Jorian, dropping the bars of his visor; "but for all that +she is a glorious wench, and looks her bravest when she is angry!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ISLE RUGEN + + +They had travelled for six hours through high arched pines, their fallen +needles making a carpet green and springy underfoot. Then succeeded +oaks, stricken a little at top with the frosts of years. Alternating +with these came marshy tracts where alder and white birch gleamed from +the banks of shallow runnels and the margins of black peaty lakes. Anon +the broom and the gorse began to flourish sparsely above wide +sand-hills, heaved this way and that like the waves of a mountainous +sea. + +The party was approaching that no-man's-land which stretches for upwards +of a hundred miles along the southern shores of the Baltic. It is a land +of vast brackish backwaters connected with the outer sea by devious +channels often half silted up, but still feeling the pulse of the outer +green water in the winds which blow over the sandy "bills," bars, and +spits, and bring with them sweet scents of heather and wild thyme, and, +most of all, of the southernwood which grows wild on the scantily +pastured braes. + +It was at that time a beautiful but lonely country--the 'batable land of +half a dozen princedoms, its only inhabitant a stray hunter setting up +his gipsy booth of wattled boughs, heaping with stones a rude fireplace, +or fixing a tripod over it whereon a pottinger was presently a-swing, in +some sunny curve of the shore. + +At eventide of the third day of their journeying the party came to a +great morass. Black decaying trunks of trees stood up at various +angles, often bristling with dead branches like _chevaux-de-frise_. The +horses picked their path warily through this tangle, the rotten sticks +yielding as readily and silently as wet mud beneath their hoofs. Finally +all dismounted except Joan, while Werner von Orseln, with a rough map in +his hand, traced out the way. Pools of stagnant black water had to be +evaded, treacherous yellow sands tested, bridges constructed of the +firmer logs, till all suddenly they came out upon a fairylike little +half-moon of sand and tiny shells. + +Here was a large flat-bottomed boat, drawn up against the shore. In the +stern a strange figure was seated, a man, tall and angular, clad in +jerkin and trunks of brown tanned leather, cross-gartered hose of grey +cloth, and home-made shoon of hide with the hair outside. He wore a +black skull cap, and his head had the strange, uncanny look of a wild +animal. It was not at the first glance nor yet at the second that Boris +and Jorian found out the cause of this curious appearance. + +Meanwhile Werner von Orseln was putting into his hand some pledge or +sign which he scrutinised carefully, when Jorian suddenly gripped his +companion's arm. + +"Look," he whispered, "he's got no ears!" + +"Nor any tongue!" responded Boris, staring with all his eyes at the +prodigy. + +And, indeed, the strange man was pointing to his mouth with the index +finger of his right hand and signing that they were to follow him into +the boat which had been waiting for them. + +Joan of the Sword Hand had never spoken since she knew that her men were +taking her to a place of safety. Nor did her face show any trace of +emotion now that Werner von Orseln, approaching cap in hand, humbly +begged her to permit him to conduct her to the boat. + +But the Duchess leapt from her horse, and without accepting his hand she +stepped from the little pier of stone beside which the boat lay. Then +walking firmly from seat to seat she reached the stern, where she sat +down without seeming to have glanced at any of the company. + +Werner von Orseln then motioned Captains Boris and Jorian to take their +places in the bow, and having bared his head he seated himself beside +his mistress. The wordless earless man took the oars and pushed off. The +boat slid over a little belt of still water through a wilderness of tall +reeds. Then all suddenly the wavelets lapped crisp and clean beneath her +bottom, and the wide levels of a lake opened out before them. The ten +men left on the shore set about building a fire and making shelters of +brushwood, as if they expected to stay here some time. + +The tiny harbour was fenced in on every side with an unbroken wall of +lofty green pines. The lower part of their trunks shot up tall and +straight and opened long vistas into the black depths of the forest. The +sun was setting and threw slant rays far underneath, touching with gold +the rank marish growths, and reddening the mouldering boles of the +fallen pines. + +The boat passed almost noiselessly along, the strange man rowing +strongly and the boat drawing steadily away across the widest part of +the still inland sea. As they thus coasted along the gloomy shores the +sun went down and darkness came upon them at a bound. Then at the far +end of the long tunnel, which an hour agone had been sunny glades, they +saw strange flickering lights dancing and vanishing, waving and leaping +upward--will-o'-the-wisps kindled doubtless from the stagnant boglands +and the rotting vegetation of that ancient northern forest. + +The breeze freshened. The water clappered louder under the boat's +quarter. Breaths born of the wide sea unfiltered through forest dankness +visited more keenly the nostrils of the voyagers. They heard ahead of +them the distant roar of breakers. Now and then there came a long and +gradual roll underneath their quarter, quite distinct from the little +chopping waves of the fresh-water _haff_, as the surface of the mere +heaved itself in a great slope of water upon which the boat swung +sideways. + +After a space tall trees again shot up overhead, and with a quick turn +the boat passed between walls of trembling reeds that rustled against +the oars like silk, emerged on a black circle of water, and then, +gliding smoothly forward, took ground in the blank dark. + +As the broad keel grated on the sand, the Wordless Man leapt out, and, +standing on the shore, put his hands to his mouth and emitted a long +shout like a blast blown on a conch shell. Again and again that +melancholy ululation, with never a consonantal sound to break it, went +forth into the night. Yet it was so modulated that it had obviously a +meaning for some one, and to put the matter beyond a doubt it was +answered by three shrill whistles from behind the rampart of trees. + +Joan sat still in the boat where she had placed herself. She asked no +question, and even these strange experiences did not alter her +resolution. + +Presently a light gleamed uncertainly through the trees, now lost behind +brushwood and again breaking waveringly out. + +A tall figure moved forward with a step quick and firm. It was that of a +woman who carried a swinging lantern in her hand, from which wheeling +lights gleamed through a score of variously coloured little plates of +horn. She wore about her shoulders a great crimson cloak which masked +her shape. A hood of the same material, attached at the back of the neck +to the cloak, concealed her head and dropped about her face, partially +hiding her features. + +Standing still on a little wooden pier she held the lantern high, so +that the light fell directly on those in the boat, and their faces +looked strangely white in that illumined circle, surrounded as it was by +a pent-house of tense blackness--black pines, black water, black sky. + +"Follow me!" said the woman, in a deep rich voice--a voice whose tones +thrilled those who heard them to their hearts, so full and low were some +of the notes. + +Joan of the Sword Hand rose to her feet. + +"I am the Duchess of Hohenstein, and I do not leave this boat till I +know in what place I am, and who this may be that cries 'Follow!' to the +daughter of Henry the Lion!" + +The tall woman turned without bowing and looked at the girl. + +"I am the mother of Maurice von Lynar, and this is the Isle Rugen!" she +said simply, as if the answer were all sufficient. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HOUSE ON THE DUNES + + +The woman in the crimson cloak waited for Joan to be assisted from the +boat, and then, without a word of greeting, led the way up a little +sanded path to a gate which opened in a high stone wall. Through this +she admitted her guests, whereupon they found themselves in an enclosure +with towers and battlements rising dimly all round. It was planted with +fragrant bushes and fruit trees whose leaves brushed pleasantly against +their faces as they walked in single file following their guide. + +Then came a long grey building, another door, small and creaking heavily +on unaccustomed hinges, a sudden burst of light, and lo! the wanderers +found themselves within a lighted hall, wherein were many stands of arms +and armour, mingled with skins of wild animals, wide-spreading +many-tined antlers, and other records of the chase. + +The woman who had been their guide now set down her lantern and allowed +the hood of her cloak to slide from her head. Werner and his two male +companions the captains of Plassenburg, fell back a little at the +apparition. They had expected to see some hag or crone, fit companion of +their wordless guide. + +Instead, a woman stood before them, not girlish certainly, nor yet in +the first bloom of her youth, but glorious even among fair women by +reason of the very ripeness of her beauty. Her hair shone full auburn +with shadows of heavy burnt-gold upon its coils. It clustered about the +broad low brow in a few simple locks, then, sweeping back round her head +in loose natural waves, it was caught in a broad flat coil at the back, +giving a certain statuesque and classic dignity to her head. + +The mother of that young paladin, their Sparhawk? It seemed impossible. +This woman was too youthful, too fair, too bountiful in her gracious +beauty to be the mother of such a tense young yew-bow as Maurice von +Lynar. + +Yet she had said it, and women do not lie (affirmatively) about such a +matter. So, indeed, at heart thought Werner von Orseln. + +"My lady Joan," she said, in the same thrilling voice, "my son has sent +me word that till a certain great danger is overpast you are to abide +with me here on the Isle Rugen. I live alone, save for this one man, +dumb Max Ulrich, long since cruelly maimed at the hands of his enemies. +I can offer you no suite of attendants beyond those you bring with you. +Our safety depends on the secrecy of our abode, as for many years my own +life has done. I ask you, therefore, to respect our privacy, as also to +impose the same upon your soldiers." + +The Duchess Joan bowed slightly. + +"As you doubtless know, I have not come hither of my own free will," she +answered haughtily; "but I thank you, madam, for your hospitality. Rest +assured that the amenity of your dwelling shall not be endangered by +me!" + +The two looked at each other with that unyielding "at-arm's-length" +eyeshot which signifies instinctive antipathy between women of strong +wills. + +Then with a large gesture the elder indicated the way up the broad +staircase, and throwing her own cloak completely off she caught it +across her arm as it dropped, and so followed Joan out of sight. + +Werner von Orseln stood looking after them a little bewildered. But the +more experienced Boris and Jorian exchanged significant glances with +each other. + +Then Boris shook his head at Jorian, and Jorian shook his head at Boris. +And for once they did not designate the outlook by their favourite +adjective. + + * * * * * + +Nevertheless, instinct was so strong that, as soon as the women had +withdrawn themselves upstairs, the three captains seized the lantern and +started towards the door to make the round of the defences. The Wordless +Man accompanied them unasked. The square enclosure in which they found +themselves seemed liker an old fortified farmhouse or grange than a +regular castle, though the walls were thick as those of any fortress, +being loopholed for musketry, and (in those days of bombards few and +heavy) capable of standing a siege in good earnest against a small army. + +The doors were of thick oak crossed in all directions with strengthening +iron. The three captains examined every barred window with keen +professional curiosity, and, coming to another staircase in a distant +part of the house, Von Orseln intimated to the dumb man that they wished +to examine it. In rapid pantomime he indicated to them that there was an +ascending flight of steps leading round and round a tower till a +platform was reached, from which (gazing out under his hand and making +with his finger the shape of battlements) he gave them to understand +that an extensive prospect was to be enjoyed. + +With an inward resolve to ascend that stair and look upon that prospect +at an early hour on the morrow, the three captains returned through the +hall into a long dining-room vaulted above with beams of solid oak. +Curtains were drawn close all about the walls. In the recesses were many +stands of arms of good and recent construction, and opening a cupboard +with the freedom of a man-at-arms, Boris saw ramrods, powder and shot +horns arranged in order, as neatly as though he had done it himself, +than which no better could be said. + +In a little while the sound of footsteps descending the nearer staircase +was heard. The Wordless Man moved to the door and held it open as Joan +came in with a proud high look on her face. She was still pale, partly +with travel and partly from the seething indignant angers of her heart. +Von Lynar's mother entered immediately after her guest, and it needed +nothing more subtle than Werner von Orseln's masculine acumen to discern +that no word had been spoken between them while they were alone. + +With a queenly gesture the hostess motioned her guest to the place of +honour at her right hand, and indicated that the three soldiers were to +take their places at the other side of the table. Werner von Orseln +moved automatically to obey, but Jorian and Boris were already at the +sideboard, dusting platters and making them ready to serve the meal. + +"I thank you, madam," said Jorian. "Were we here as envoys of our +master, Prince Hugo of Plassenburg, we would gladly and proudly sit at +meat with you. But we are volunteers, and have all our lives been +men-at-arms. We will therefore assist this good gentleman to serve, an +it please you to permit us!" + +The lady bowed slightly and for the first time smiled. + +"You have, then, accompanied the Lady Duchess hither for pleasure, +gentlemen? I fear Isle Rugen is a poor place for that!" she said, +looking across at them. + +"Aye and no!" said Jorian; "Kernsberg is, indeed, no fit dwelling-place +for great ladies just now. The Duchess Joan will indeed be safer here +than elsewhere till the Muscovites have gone home, and the hill-folk of +Hohenstein have only the Courtlanders to deal with. All the same, we +could have wished to have been permitted to speak with the Muscovite in +the gate!" + +"My son remains in Castle Kernsberg?" she asked, with an upward +inflection, an indescribable softness at the same time overspreading her +face, and a warmth coming into the grey eyes which showed what this +woman might be to those whom she really loved. + +"He keeps the Castle, indeed--in his mistress's absence and mine," said +Werner. "He will make a good soldier. Our lady has already made him +Count von Löen, that he may be the equal of those who care for such +titles." + +A strange flash as of remembrance and emotion passed over the face of +their hostess. + +"And your own title, my lord?" she asked after a little pause. + +"I am plain Werner von Orseln, free ritter and faithful servant of my +mistress the Duchess Joan, as I was also of her father, Henry the Lion +of Hohenstein!" + +He bowed as he spoke and continued, "I do not love titles, and, indeed, +they would be wasted on an ancient grizzle-pate like me. But your son is +young, and deserves this fortune, madam. He will doubtless do great +honour to my lady's favour." + +The eyes of the elder lady turned inquiringly to those of Joan. + +"I have now no faithful servants," said the young Duchess at last, +breaking her cold silence; "I have only traitors and jailers about me." + +With that she became once more silent. A painful restraint fell upon the +three who sat at table, and though their hostess and Werner von Orseln +partook of the fish and brawn and fruit which their three servitors set +before them in silver platters, it was but sparingly and without +appetite. + +All were glad when the meal was over and they could rise from the table. +As soon as possible Boris and Jorian got outside into the long passage +which led to the kitchen. + +"Ha!" cried Boris, "I declare I would have burst if I had stayed in +there another quarter hour! It was solemn as serving Karl the Great and +his longbeards in their cellar under the Hartz. I wonder if they are +going to keep it up all the time after this fashion!" + +"And this is pleasure," rejoined Jorian gloomily; "not even a good +rousing fight on the way. And then--why, prayers for the dead are +cheerful as dance-gardens in July to that festal board. Good Lord! give +me the Lady Ysolinde and the gnomes we fought so long ago at Erdberg. +This stiff sword-handed Joan of theirs freezes a man's internals like +Baltic ice." + +"Jorian," said Boris, solemnly lowering his voice to a whisper, "if that +Courtland fellow had known what we know, he would have been none so +eager to get her home to bed and board!" + +"Ice will melt--even Baltic ice!" said Jorian sententiously. + +"Yes, but greybeard Louis of Courtland is not the man to do the +melting!" retorted Boris. + +"But I know who could!" said Jorian, nodding his head with an air of +immense sagacity. + +Boris went on cutting brawn upon a wooden platter with a swift and +careful hand. The old servitor moved noiselessly about behind them, with +feet that made no more noise than those of a cat walking on velvet. + +"Who?" said Boris, shortly. + +The door of the kitchen opened slightly and the tall woman stood a +moment with the latch in her hand, ready to enter. + +"Our Sparhawk could melt the Baltic ice!" said Jorian, and winked at +Boris with his left eye in a sly manner. + +Whereupon Boris dropped his knife and, seizing Jorian by the shoulders, +he thrust him down upon a broad stool. + +Then he dragged the platter of brawn before him and dumped the mustard +pot beside it upon the deal table with a resounding clap. + +"There!" he cried, "fill your silly mouth with that, Fatsides! 'Tis all +you are good for. I have stood a deal of fine larded ignorance from you +in my time, but nothing like this. You will be saying next that my Lady +Duchess is taking a fancy to you!" + +"She might do worse!" said Jorian philosophically, as he stirred the +mustard with his knife and looked about for the ale tankard. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE FACE THAT LOOKED INTO JOAN'S + + +The chamber to which the Duchess Joan was conducted by her hostess had +evidently been carefully prepared for her reception. It was a large low +room, with a vaulted roof of carven wood. The work was of great merit +and evidently old. The devices upon it were mostly coats-of-arms, which +originally had been gilded and painted in heraldic colours, though +neglect through long generations had tarnished the gold leaf and caused +the colours to peel off in places. Here and there, however, were shields +of more recent design, but in every case the motto and scutcheon of +these had been defaced. At both ends of the room were windows, through +whose stained glass Joan peered without result into blank darkness. Then +she opened a little square of panes just large enough to put her head +through and saw a walk of lofty poplars silhouetted against the sky, +dark towers of leaves all a-rustle and a-shiver from the zenith to the +ground, as a moaning and sobbing wind drew inward and whispered to them +of the coming storm. + +Then Joan shut the window and looked about her. A table with a little +_prie-Dieu_ stood in the corner, screened by a curtain which ran on a +brazen rod. A Roman Breviary lay open on a velvet-covered table before +the crucifix. Joan lifted it up and her eyes fell on the words: "_By a +woman he overcame. By a woman he was overcome. A woman was once his +weapon. A woman is now become the instrument of his defeat. He findeth +that the weak vessel cannot be broken._" + +"Nor shall it!" said Joan, looking at the cross before her; "by the +strength of Mary the Mother, the weak vessel shall not be broken!" + +She turned her about and examined with interest the rest of the room +which for many days was to be her own. The bed was low and wide, with +sheets of fine linen folded back, and over all a richly embroidered +coverlet. At the further end of the chamber was a fireplace, with a +projecting hood of enamelled brick, looking fresh and new amid so much +that was centuries old. Oaken panels covered the walls, opening mostly +into deep cupboards. The girl tried one or two of these. They proved to +be unlocked and were filled with ancient parchments, giving forth a +faintly aromatic smell, but without a particle of dust upon their +leaves. The cleanliness of everything within the chamber had been +scrupulously attended to. + +For a full hour Joan walked the chamber with her hands clasped behind +her back, thinking how she was to return to her well-beloved Kernsberg. +Her pride was slowly abating, and with it her anger against those +faithful servants who had risked her favour to convey her beyond the +reach of danger. But none the less she was resolved to go back. This +conflict must not take place without her. If Kernsberg were captured, +and Maurice von Lynar found personating his mistress, he would surely be +put to death. If he fell into Muscovite hands that death would be by +torture. + +At all hazards she would return. And to this problem she turned her +thoughts, knitting her brows and working her fingers nervously through +each other. + +She had it. There was a way. She would wait till the morrow and in the +meantime--sleep. + +As she stooped to blow out the last candle, a motto on the stem caught +her eye. It ran round the massive silver base of the candelabra in the +thick Gothic characters of a hundred years before. Joan took the candle +out of its socket and read the inscription word by word-- + + "DA PACEM, DOMINE, IN DIEBUS NOSTRIS." + +It was her own scroll, the motto of the reigning dukes of Hohenstein--a +strange one, doubtless, to be that of a fighting race, but, +nevertheless, her father's and her own. + +Joan held the candle in her hand a long time, looking at it, heedless of +the wax that dripped on the floor. + +What did her father's motto, the device of her house, upon this Baltic +island, far from the highlands of Kernsberg? Had these wastes once +belonged to men of her race? And this woman, who so regally played the +mistress of this strange heritage, who was she? And what was the secret +of the residence of one in this wilderness who, by her manner, might in +her time have queened it in royal courts? + +And as Joan of Hohenstein blew out the candle she mused in her heart +concerning these things. + + * * * * * + +The Duchess Joan slept soundly, her dark boyish head pillowed on the +full rounded curves of an arm thrown behind her. On the little +velvet-covered table beside the bed lay her belt and its dependent +sword, a faithful companion in its sheath of plain black leather. Under +the pillow, and within instant reach of her right hand, was her father's +dagger. With it, they said, Henry the Lion had more than once removed an +enemy who stood in his way, or more honourably given the _coup de grâce_ +to a would-be assassin. + +Without, the mood of the night had changed. The sky, which had hitherto +been of favourable aspect, save for the green light in the north as they +rowed across the waters of the Haff, was now overflowed by thin wisps of +cloud tacking up against the wind. Towards the sea a steely blue smother +had settled down along the horizon, while the thunder growled nearer +like a roll of drums beaten continuously. The wind, however, was not +regular, but came in little puffs and bursts, now warm, now cold, from +every point of the compass. + +But still Joan slept on, being tired with her journey. + +In their chamber in the wing which looks towards the north the three +captains lay wrapped in their several mantles, Jorian and Boris +answering each other nasally, in alternate trumpet blasts, like Alp +calling to Alp. Werner von Orseln alone could not sleep, and after he +had sworn and kicked his noisy companions in the ribs till he was weary +of the task, he rose and went to the window to cast open the lattice. +The air within felt thick and hot. He fumbled long at the catch, and in +the unwholesome silence of the strange house the chief captain seemed to +hear muffled feet going to and fro on the floor above him. But of this +he thought little. For strange places were familiar to him, and any +sense of danger made but an added spice in his cup of life. + +At last he worried the catch loose, the lattice pane fell sagging +inwards on its double hinge of skin. As Werner set his face to the +opening quick flashes of summer lightning flamed alternately white and +lilac across the horizon, and he felt the keen spit of hailstones in his +face, driving level like so many musket balls when the infantry fires by +platoons. + + * * * * * + +Above, in the vaulted chamber, Joan turned over on her bed, murmuring +uneasily in her sleep. A white face, which for a quarter of an hour had +been bent down to her dark head as it lay on the pillow, was suddenly +retracted into the blackness at the girl's slight movement. + +Again, apparently reassured, the shadowy visage approached as the young +Duchess lay without further motion. Without the storm broke in a burst +of appalling fury. The pale blue forks of the lightning flamed just +outside the casement in flash on continuous flash. The thunder shook the +house like an earthquake. + +Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, Joan's eyes opened, and she found +herself looking with bewilderment into a face that bent down upon her, +a white face which somehow seemed to hang suspended in the dark above +her. The features were lit up by the pulsing lightning which shone in +the wild eyes and glittered on a knife-blade about the handle of which +were clenched the tense white fingers of a hand equally detached. + +A quick icy thrill chilled the girl's marrow, darting like a spear +through her body. But Joan of Hohenstein was the true seed of Henry the +Lion. In a moment her right hand had grasped the sword beside her +pillow. Her left, shooting upward, closed on the arm which held the +threatening steel. At the same time she flung herself forward, and with +the roaring turmoils of the storm dinning in her ears she grappled +something that withstood her in the interspace of darkness that had +followed the flashes. Joan's spring had been that of the couchant young +wild cat. Almost without rising from her bed she had projected herself +upon her enemy. Her left hand grasped the wrist so tightly that the +blade fell to the ground, whereupon Joan of the Sword Hand shifted her +grasp upwards fiercely till she felt her fingers sink deep in the soft +curves of a woman's throat. + +Then a shriek, long and terrible, inhuman and threatening, rang through +the house. A light began to burn yellow and steady through the cracks of +the chamber door, not pulsing and blue like the lightning without. +Presently, as Joan overbore her assailant upon the floor, the door +opened, and glancing upwards she saw the Wordless Man stand on the +threshold, a candle in one hand and a naked sword in the other. + +The terrible cry which had rung in her ears had been his. At sight of +him Joan unclasped her fingers from the throat of the woman and rose +slowly to her feet. The old man rushed forward and knelt beside the +prostrate body of his mistress. + +At the same moment there came the sound of quick footsteps running up +the stairway. The door flew open and Werner von Orseln burst in, also +sword in hand. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he shouted. "Who has dared to harm my +lady?" + +Joan did not answer, but remained standing tall and straight by the +hooded mantel of the fireplace. As was her custom, before lying down she +had clad herself in a loose gown of white silk which on all her journeys +she carried in a roll at her saddle-bow. + +She pointed to the mother of Maurice von Lynar, who lay on the floor, +still unconscious, with the dumb man kneeling over her, chafing her +hands and murmuring unintelligible tendernesses, like a mother crooning +over a sick child. + +But the face of the chief captain grew stern and terrible as he saw on +the floor a knife of curious design. He stooped and lifted it. It was a +Danish _tolle knife_, the edge a little curved outward and keen as a +razor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE SECRET OF THERESA VON LYNAR + + +"Go down and bring a cup of wine!" commanded Joan as soon as he +appeared. And Werner von Orseln, having glanced once at his mistress +where she stood with the point of her sword to the ground and her elbow +on the corner of the mantel, turned on his heel and departed without a +word to do her bidding. + +Meanwhile the Wordless Man had raised his mistress up from the ground. +Her eyes slowly opened and began to wander vaguely round the room, +taking in the objects one by one. When they fell on Joan, standing erect +by the fireplace, a spasm seemed to pass across her face and she strove +fiercely but ineffectually to rise. + +"Carry your mistress to that couch!" said the young Duchess, pointing to +the tumbled bed from which a few minutes before she had so hastily +launched herself. + +The dumb man understood either the words or the significant action of +Joan's hand, for he stooped and lifted Von Lynar's mother in his arms. +Whilst he was thus engaged Werner came in quickly with a silver cup in +his hand. + +Joan took it instantly and going forward she put it to the lips of the +woman on the bed. Her hair had escaped from its gathered coils and now +flowed in luxuriant masses of red-gold over her shoulders and showered +itself on either side of the pillow before falling in a shining cataract +to the floor. + +Putting out her hands the woman took the cup and drank of it slowly, +pausing between the draughts to draw long breaths. + +"I must have strength," she said. "I have much to say. Then, Joan of +Hohenstein, yourself shall judge between thee and me!" + +The fluttering of the lightning at the window seemed to disturb her, for +as Joan bowed her assent slightly and sternly, the tall woman kept +looking towards the lattice as if the pulsing flame fretted her. Joan +moved her hand slightly without taking her eyes away, and the chief +captain, used to such silent orders from his mistress, strode over to +the window and pulled the curtains close. The storm had by this time +subsided to a rumble, and only round the edges of the arras could a +faint occasional glow be seen, telling of the turmoil without. But a +certain faint tremulousness pervaded all the house, which was the Baltic +thundering on the pebbly beaches and shaking the walls to their sandy +foundations. + +The colour came slowly back to the woman's pale face, and, after a +little, she raised herself on the pillows. Joan stood motionless and +uncompromising by the great iron dogs of the chimney. + +"You are waiting for me to speak, and I will speak," said the woman. +"You have a double right to know all. Shall it be told to yourself alone +or in the presence of this man?" + +She looked at Von Orseln as she spoke. + +"I have no secrets in my life," said Joan; "there is nothing that I +would hide from him. _Save one thing!_" She added the last words in her +heart. + +"I warn you that the matter concerns yourself very closely," answered +the woman somewhat urgently. + +"Werner von Orseln is my chief captain!" answered Joan. + +"It concerns also your father's honour!" + +"He was my father's chief captain before he was mine, and had charge of +his honour on twenty fields." + +Gratefully and silently Von Orseln lifted his mistress's hand to his +lips. The tall woman on the bed smiled faintly. + +"It is well that your Highness is so happy in her servants. I also have +one who can hold his peace." + +She pointed to the Wordless Man, who now stood with the candelabra in +his hand, mute and immutable by his mistress's bedhead, as if watching +that none should do her harm. + +There was an interval of silence in the room, filled up by the hoarse +persistent booming of the storm without and the shuddering shocks of the +wind on the lonely house. Then the woman spoke again in a low, distinct +voice. + +"Since it is your right to know my name, I am Theresa von Lynar--who +have also a right to call myself 'of Hohenstein'--and your dead father's +widow!" + +In an instant the reserve of Joan's sternly equal mind was broken up. +She dropped her sword clattering on the floor and started angrily +forward towards the bed. + +"It is a lie most foul," she cried; "my father lived unwed for many +years--nay, ever since my mother's death, who died in giving me life, he +never so much as looked on woman. It is a thing well known in the +Duchy!" + +The woman did not answer directly. + +"Max Ulrich, bring the silver casket," she said, taking from her neck a +little silver key. + +The Wordless Man, seeing her action, came forward and took the key. He +went out of the room, and after an interval which seemed interminable he +returned with a peculiarly shaped casket. It was formed like a heart, +and upon it, curiously worked in gold and precious stones, Joan saw her +father's motto and the armorial bearings of Hohenstein. + +The woman touched a spring with well-practised hand, the silver heart +divided, and a roll of parchment fell upon the bed. With a strange smile +she gave it to Joan, beckoning her with an upward nod to approach. + +"I give this precious document without fear into your hands. It is my +very soul. But it is safe with the daughter of Henry the Lion." + +Joan took the crackling parchment. It had three seals attached to it and +the first part was in her father's own handwriting. + + "_I declare by these presents that I have married, according to + the customs of Hohenstein and the laws of the Empire, Theresa + von Lynar, daughter of the Count von Lynar of Jutland. But this + marriage shall not, by any of its occasions or consequents, + affect the succession of my daughter Joanna to the Duchy of + Hohenstein and the Principalities of Kernsberg and Marienfeld. + To which we subscribe our names as conjointly agreeing thereto + in the presence of his High Eminence the Cardinal Adrian, + Archbishop of Cologne and Elector of the Holy Roman Empire._" + +Then followed the three signatures, and beneath, in another handwriting, +Joan read the following:-- + + "_These persons, Henry Duke of Hohenstein and Theresa von Lynar, + were married by me subject to the above conditions mutually + agreed upon in the Church of Olsen near to the Kurische Haff, in + the presence of Julius Count von Lynar and his sons Wolf and + Mark, in the year 14--, the day being the eve of St. + John.--Adrian, Archiepiscop. et Elector._" + +After her first shock of surprise was over Joan noted carefully the +date. It was one year after her own birth, and therefore the like period +after the death of her mother, the openly acknowledged Duchess of +Hohenstein. + +The quick eyes of the woman on the bed had followed hers as they read +carefully down the parchment, eagerly and also apprehensively, like +those of a mother who for some weighty reason has placed her child in +peril. + +Joan folded the parchment and handed it back. Then she stood silent +waiting for an explanation. + +The woman took up her parable calmly, like one who has long comprehended +that such a crisis must one day arrive, and who knows her part +thoroughly. + +"I, who speak to you, am Theresa von Lynar. Your father saw me first at +the coronation of our late sovereign, Christian, King of Denmark. And we +loved one another. For this cause I moved my brother and his sons to +build Castle Lynar on the shores of the Northern Sea. For this cause I +accompanied him thither. For many years at Castle Lynar, and also at +this place, called the Hermitage of the Dunes, Henry of Kernsberg and I +dwelt in such happiness as mortals seldom know. I loved your father, +obeyed him, adored him, lived only for him. But there came a spring when +my brother, being like your father a hot and passionate man, quarrelled +with Duke Henry, threatening to go before the Diet of the Empire if I +were not immediately acknowledged Duchess and my son Maurice von Lynar +made the heir of Hohenstein. But I, being true to my oath and promise, +left my brother and abode here alone with my husband when he could +escape from his Dukedom, living like a simple squire and his dame. Those +were happy days and made up for much. Then in an evil day I sent my son +to my brother to train as his own son in arms and the arts of war. But +he, being at enmity with my husband, made ready to carry the lad before +the Diet of the Empire, that he might be declared heir to his father. +Then, in his anger, Henry the Lion rose and swept Castle Lynar with fire +and sword, leaving none alive but this boy only, whom he meant to take +back and train with his captains. But on the way home, even as he rode +southward through the forest towards Kernsberg, he reeled in the saddle +and passed ere he could speak a word, even the name of those he loved. +So the boy remained a captive at Kernsberg, called by my brother's name, +and knowing even to this day nothing of his father." + +[Illustration: "I bid you slay me for the evil deed my heart was +willing to do." [_Page 161_]] + +And as the woman ceased speaking Werner von Orseln nodded gravely and +sadly. + +"This thing concerning my lord's death is true," he said; "I was +present. These arms received him as he fell. He was dead ere we laid him +on the ground!" + +Theresa von Lynar raised herself. She had spoken thus far reclining on +the bed from which Joan had risen. Now she sat up and for a little space +rested her hands on her lap ere she went on. + +"Then my son, whom, not knowing, you had taken pity upon and raised to +honour, and who is now your faithful servant, sent a secret messenger +that you would come to abide secretly with me till a certain dark day +had overpassed in Kernsberg. And then there sprang up in my heart a +dreadful conceit that he loved you, knowing young blood and hearing the +fame of your beauty, and I was afraid for the greatness of the sin--that +one should love his sister." + +Joan made a quick gesture of dissent, but the woman went on. + +"I thought, being a woman alone, and one also, who had given all freely +up for love's sake, that he would certainly love you even as I had +loved. And when I saw you in my house, so cold and so proud, and when I +thought within me that but for you my son would have been a mighty +prince, a strange terrible anger and madness came over me, darkening my +soul. For a moment I would have slain you. But I could not, because you +were asleep. And, even as you stirred, I heard you speak the name of a +man, as only one who loves can speak it. I know right well how that is, +having listened to it with a glad heart in the night. The name was----" + +"Hold!" cried Joan of the Sword Hand. "I believe you--I forgive you!" + +"The name," continued Theresa von Lynar, "was _not that of my son_! And +now," she went on, slowly rising from the couch to her height, "I am +ready. I bid you slay me for the evil deed my heart was willing for a +moment to do!" + +Joan looked at her full in the eyes for the space of a breath. Then +suddenly she held out her hand and answered like her father's daughter. + +"Nay," she said, "I only marvel that you did not strike me to the heart, +because of your son's loss and my father's sin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +BORNE ON THE GREAT WAVE + + +It chanced that in the chamber from which Werner von Orseln had come so +swiftly at the cry of the Wordless Man, Boris and Jorian, after sleeping +through the disturbances above them and the first burst of the storm, +were waked by the blowing open of the lattice as the wind reached its +height. Jorian lay still on his pallet and slily kicked Boris, hoping +that he would rise and take upon him the task of shutting it. + +Then to Boris, struggling upward to the surface of the ocean of sleep, +came the same charitable thought with regard to Jorian. So, both kicking +out at the same time, their feet encountered with clash of iron +footgear, and then with surly snarls they hent them on their feet, +abusing each other in voices which could be heard above the humming of +the storm without. + +It was tall Boris who, having cursed himself empty, first made his way +to the window. The lattice hung by one leathern thong. The other had +been torn away, and indeed it was a wonder that the whole framework had +not been blown bodily into the room. For the tempest pressed against it +straight from the north, and the sticky spray from the waves which broke +on the shingle drove stingingly into the eyes of the man-at-arms. + +Nevertheless he thrust his head out, looked a moment through half-closed +eyelids, and then cried, "Jorian, we are surely lost! The sea is +breaking in upon us. It has passed the beach of shingle out there!" + +And seizing Jorian by the arm Boris made his way to the door by which +they had entered, and, undoing the bolts, they reached the walled +courtyard, where, however, they found themselves in the open air, but +sheltered from the utmost violence of the tempest. There was a momentary +difficulty here, because neither could find the key of the heavy door in +the boundary wall. But Boris, ever fertile in expedient, discovered a +ladder under a kind of shed, and setting it against the northern wall he +climbed to the top. While he remained under the shelter of the wall his +body was comfortably warm; only an occasional veering flaw sent a purl +downwards of what he was to meet. But the instant his head was above the +copestone, and the ice-cold northerly blast met him like a wall, he +fairly gasped, for the furious onslaught of the storm seemed to blow +every particle of breath clean out of his body. + +The spindrift flew smoking past, momentarily white in the constant +lightning flashes, and before him, and apparently almost at the foot of +the wall, Boris saw a wonderful sight. The sea appeared to be climbing, +climbing, climbing upwards over a narrow belt of sand and shingle which +separated the scarcely fretted Haff from the tumbling milk of the outer +Baltic. + +In another moment Jorian was beside him, crouching on the top of the +wall to save himself from being carried away. And there, in the steamy +smother of the sea, backed by the blue electric flame of the lightning, +they saw the slant masts of a vessel labouring to beat against the wind. + +"Poor souls, they are gone!" said Boris, trying to shield his eyes with +his palm, as the black hull disappeared bodily, and the masts seemed to +lurch forward into the milky turmoil. "We shall never see her again." + +For one moment all was dark as pitch, and the next a dozen flashes of +lightning burst every way, as many appearing to rise upwards as could be +seen to fall downwards. A black speck poised itself on the crest of a +wave. "It is a boat! It can never live!" cried the two men together, and +dropping from the top of the wall they ran down to the shore, going as +near as they dared to the surf which arched and fell with ponderous roar +on the narrow strip of shingle. + +Here Jorian and Boris ran this way and that, trying to pierce the +blackness of the sky with their spray-blinded eyes, but nothing more, +either of the ship or of the boat which had put out from it, did they +see. The mountainous roll and ceaseless iterance of the oncoming +breakers hid the surface of the sea from their sight, while the sky, +changing with each pulse of the lightning from densest black to green +shot with violet, told nothing of the men's lives which were being riven +from their bodies beneath it. + +"Back, Boris, back!" cried Jorian suddenly, as after a succession of +smaller waves a gigantic and majestic roller arched along the whole +seaward front, stood for a moment black and imminent above them, and +then fell like a whole mountain-range in a snowy avalanche of troubled +water which rushed savagely up the beach. The two soldiers, who would +have faced unblanched any line of living enemies in the world, fled +terror-stricken at that clutching onrush of that sea of milk. The wet +sand seemed to catch and hold their feet as they ran, so that they felt +in their hearts the terrible sensation of one who flees in dreams from +some hideous imagined terror and who finds his powers fail him as his +pursuer approaches. + +Upward and still upward the wave swept with a soft universal hiss which +drowned and dominated the rataplan of the thunder-peals above and the +sonorous diapason of the surf around them. It rushed in a creaming +smother about their ankles, plucked at their knees, but could rise no +higher. Yet so fierce was the back draught, that when the water +retreated, dragging the pebbles with it down the shingly shore with the +rattle of a million castanets, the two stout captains of Plassenburg +were thrown on their faces and lay as dead on the wet and sticky stones, +each clutching a double handful of broken shells and oozy sand which +streamed through his numbed fingers. + +Boris was the first to rise, and finding Jorian still on his face he +caught the collar of his doublet and pulled him with little ceremony up +the sloping bank out of tide-reach, throwing him down on the shingly +summit with as little tenderness or compunction as if he had been a bag +of wet salt. + +By this time the morning was advancing and the storm growing somewhat +less continuous. Instead of the wind bearing a dead weight upon the +face, it came now in furious gusts. Instead of one grand roar, +multitudinous in voice yet uniform in tone, it hooted and piped overhead +as if a whole brood of evil spirits were riding headlong down the +tempest-track. Instead of coming on in one solid bank of blackness, the +clouds were broken into a wrack of wild and fantastic fragments, the +interspaces of which showed alternately paly green and pearly grey. The +thunder retreated growling behind the horizon. The violet lightning grew +less continuous, and only occasionally rose and fell in vague distant +flickerings towards the north, as if some one were lifting a lantern +almost to the sea-line and dropping it again before reaching it. + +Looking back from the summit of the mound, Boris saw something dark +lying high up on the beach amid a wrack of seaweed and broken timber +which marked where the great wave had stopped. Something odd about the +shape took his eye. + +A moment later he was leaping down again towards the shore, taking his +longest strides, and sending the pebbles spraying out in front and on +all sides of him. He stooped and found the body of a man, tall, well +formed, and of manly figure. He was bareheaded and stripped to his +breeches and underwear. + +Boris stooped and laid his hand upon his heart. Yes, so much was +certain. He was not dead. Whereupon the ex-man-at-arms lifted him as +well as he could and dragged him by the elbows out of reach of the +waves. Then he went back to Jorian and kicked him in the ribs. The +rotund man sat up with an execration. + +"Come!" cried Boris, "don't lie there like Reynard the Fox waiting for +Kayward the Hare. We want no malingering here. There's a man at death's +door down on the shingle. Come and help me to carry him to the house." + +It was a heavy task, and Jorian's head spun with the shock of the wave +and the weight of their burden long before they reached the point where +the boundary wall approached nearest to the house. + +"We can never hope to get him up that ladder and down the other side," +said Boris, shaking his head. + +"Even if we had the ladder!" answered Jorian, glad of a chance to +grumble; "but, thanks to your stupidity, it is on the other side of the +wall." + +Without noticing his companion's words, Boris took a handful of small +pebbles and threw them up at a lighted window. The head of Werner von +Orseln immediately appeared, his grizzled hair blown out like a misty +aureole about his temples. + +"Come down!" shouted Boris, making a trumpet of his hands to fight the +wind withal. "We have found a drowned man on the beach!" + +And indeed it seemed literally so, as they carried their burden round +the walls to the wicket door and waited. It seemed an interminable time +before Werner von Orseln arrived with the dumb man's lantern in his +hand. + +They carried the body into the great hall, where the Duchess and the old +servitor met them. There they laid him on a table. Joan herself lifted +the lantern and held it to his face. His fair hair clustered about his +head in wet knots and shining twists. The features of his face were +white as death and carven like those of a statue. But at the sight the +heart of the Duchess leaped wildly within her. + +"Conrad!" she cried--that word and no more. And the lantern fell to the +floor from her nerveless hand. + +There was no doubt in her mind. She could make no mistake. The regular +features, the pillar-like neck, the massive shoulders, the strong +clean-cut mouth, the broad white brow--and--yes, the slight tonsure of +the priest. It was the White Knight of the Courtland lists, the noble +Prince of the summer parlour, the red-robed prelate of her marriage-day, +Conrad of Courtland, Prince and Cardinal, but to her--"_he_"--the only +"he." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE GIRL BENEATH THE LAMP + + +When Conrad, Cardinal-designate of the Holy Roman Church and Archbishop +of Courtland, opened his eyes, it seemed to him that he had passed +through warring waters into the serenity of the Life Beyond. His hand, +on which still glittered his episcopal ring, lay on a counterpane of +faded rose silk, soft as down. Did he dream that another hand had been +holding it, that gentlest fingers had rested caressingly on his brow? + +A girl, sweet and stately, sat by his bedside. By the door, to which +alone he could raise his eyes, stood a tall gaunt man, clad in grey from +head to foot, his hands clasped in front of him, and his chin sunk upon +his breast. + +The Prince-Bishop's eyes rested languidly on the girl's face, on which +fell the light of a shaded silver lamp. There was a book in her lap, +written upon sheets of thin parchment, bound in gold-embossed leather. +But she did not read it. Instead she breathed softly and regularly. She +was asleep, with her hand on the coverlet of rosy silk. + +Strange fancies passed through the humming brain of the rescued man--as +it had been, hunting each other across a stage--visions of perilous +endeavour, of fights with wild beasts in shut-in places from which there +was no escape, of brutal fisticuffs with savage men. All these again +merged into the sense of falling from immense heights only to find that +the air upheld him and that, instead of breaking himself to pieces at +the bottom, he alighted soft as thistledown on couches of flowers. +Strange rich heady scents seemed to rise about him like something +palpable. His brain wavered behind his brow like a summer landscape when +the sun is hot after a shower. Perfumes, strange and haunting, dwelt in +his nostrils. The scent, at once sour and sweet, of bee-hives at night, +the richness of honey in the comb, the delicacy of wet banks of violets, +full-odoured musk, and the luxury of sun-warmed afternoon beanfields +dreamily sweet--these made his very soul swoon within him. Then followed +odours of rose gardens, of cool walks drenched in shadow and random +scents blown in at open windows. Yes, he knew now; surely he was again +in his own chamber in the summer pavilion of the palace in Courtland. He +could hear the cool wash of the Alla under its walls, and with the +assurance there came somehow a memory of a slim lad with clear-cut +features who brought him a message from--was it his sister Margaret, or +Louis his brother? He could not remember which. + +Of what had he been dreaming? In the endeavour to recall something he +harked back on the terrors of the night in which, of all on board the +ship, his soul alone had remained serene. He remembered the fury of the +storm, the helpless impotence and blank cowardice of the sailor folk, +the desertion of the officers in the only seaworthy boat. + +Slowly the drifting mists steadied themselves athwart his brain. The +actual recomposed itself out of the shreds of dreams. Conrad found +himself in a long low room such as he had seen many times in the houses +of well-to-do ritters along the Baltic shores. The beams of the +roof-tree above were carven and ancient. Arras went everywhere about the +halls. Silver candlesticks, with princely crests graven upon them, stood +by his bedhead. After each survey his eyes settled on the sleeping girl. +She was very young and very beautiful. It was--yet it could not be--the +Duchess Joan, whom he himself had married to his brother Louis in the +cathedral church of his own archiepiscopal city. + +Conrad of Courtland had not been trained a priest, yet, as was common at +that age, birth and circumstance had made him early a Prince of the +Roman Church. He had been thrust into the hierarchy solely because of +his name, for he had succeeded his uncle Adrian in his ecclesiastical +posts and emoluments as a legal heir succeeds to an undisputed property. +In due time he received his red hat from a pontiff who distributed these +among his favourites (or those whom he thought might aggrandise his +temporal power) as freely as a groomsman distributes favours at a +wedding. + +Nevertheless, Conrad of Courtland had all the warm life and imperious +impulses of a young man within his breast. Yet he was no Borgia or Della +Rovere, cloaking scarlet sins with scarlet vestments. For with the high +dignities of his position and the solemn work which lay to his hand in +his northern province there had come the resolve to be not less, but +more faithful than those martyrs and confessors of whom he read daily in +his Breviary. And while, in Rome herself, vice-proud princes, consorting +in the foulest alliance with pagan popes, blasphemed the sanctuary and +openly scoffed at religion, this finest and most chivalrous of young +northern knights had laid down the weapons of his warfare to take up the +crucifix, and now had set out joyfully for Rome to receive his +cardinal's hat on his knees as the last and greatest gift of the Vicar +of Christ. + +He had begun his pilgrimage by express command of the Holy Father, who +desired to make the youthful Archbishop his Papal assessor among the +Electors of the Empire. But scarcely was he clear of the Courtland +shores when there had come the storm, the shipwreck, the wild struggle +among the white and foaming breakers--and then, wondrously emergent, +like heaven after purgatory, the quiet of this sheltered room and this +sleeping girl, with her white hand lying lax and delicate on the rosy +silk. + +The book slipped suddenly from her fingers, falling on the polished wood +of the floor with a startling sound. The eyes of the gaunt man by the +door were lifted from the ground, glittered beadily for a moment, and +again dropped as before. + +The girl did not start, but rather passed immediately into full +consciousness with a little shudder and a quick gesture of the hand, as +if she pushed something or some one from her. Then, from the pillow on +which his head lay, Joan of Hohenstein saw the eyes of the Prince Conrad +gazing at her, dark and solemn, from within the purplish rings of recent +peril. + +"You are my brother's wife!" he said softly, but yet in the same rich +and thrilling voice she had listened to with so many heart-stirrings in +the summer palace, and had last heard ring through the cathedral church +of Courtland on that day when her life had ended. + +A chill came over the girl's face at his words. + +"I am indeed the Duchess Joan of Hohenstein," she answered. "My father +willed that I should wed Prince Louis of Courtland. Well, I married him +and rode away. In so much I am your brother's wife." + +It was a strange awaking for a man who had passed from death to life, +but at least her very impetuosity convinced him that the girl was flesh +and blood. + +He smiled wanly. The light of the lamp seemed to waver again before his +eyes. He saw his companion as it had been transformed and glorified. He +heard the rolling of drums in his ears, and merry pipes played sweetly +far away. Then came the hush of many waters flowing softly, and last, +thrumming on the parched earth, and drunk down gladly by tired flowers, +the sound of abundance of rain. The world grew full of sleep and rest +and refreshment. There was no longer need to care about anything. + +His eyes closed. He seemed about to sink back into unconsciousness, when +Joan rose, and with a few drops from Dessauer's phial, which she kept by +her in case of need, she called him back from the misty verges of the +Things which are Without. + +As he struggled painfully upward he seemed to hear Joan's last words +repeated and re-repeated to the music of a chime of fairy bells, "_In so +much--in so much--I am your brother's wife--your brother's wife!_" He +came to himself with a start. + +"Will you tell me how I came here, and to whom I am indebted for my +life?" he said, as Joan stood up beside him, her shapely head dim and +retired in the misty dusk above the lamp, only her chin and the shapely +curves of her throat being illumined by the warm lamplight. + +"You were picked up for dead on the beach in the midst of the storm," +she answered, "and were brought hither by two captains in the service of +the Prince of Plassenburg!" + +"And where is this place, and when can I leave it to proceed upon my +journey?" + +The girl's head was turned away from him a trifle more haughtily than +before, and she answered coldly, "You are in a certain fortified grange +somewhere on the Baltic shore. As to when you can proceed on your +journey, that depends neither on you nor on me. I am a prisoner here. +And so I fear must you also consider yourself!" + +"A prisoner! Then has my brother----?" cried the Prince-Bishop, starting +up on his elbow and instantly dropping back again upon the pillow with a +groan of mingled pain and weakness. Joan looked at him a moment and +then, compressing her lips with quick resolution, went to the bedside +and with one hand under his head rearranged the pillow and laid him back +in an easier posture. + +"You must lie still," she said in a commanding tone, and yet softly; +"you are too weak to move. Also you must obey me. I have some skill in +leechcraft." + +"I am content to be your prisoner," said the Prince-Bishop +smiling--"that is, till I am well enough to proceed on my journey to +Rome, whither the Holy Father Pope Sixtus hath summoned me by a special +messenger." + +"I fear me much," answered Joan, "that, spite of the Holy Father, we may +be fellow-prisoners of long standing. Those of my own folk who hold me +here against my will are hardly likely to let the brother of Prince +Louis of Courtland escape with news of my hiding-place and present +hermitage!" + +The young man seemed as if he would again have started up, but with a +gesture smilingly imperious Joan forbade him. + +"To-morrow," she said, "perhaps if you are patient I will tell you more. +Here comes our hostess. It is time that I should leave you." + +Theresa von Lynar came softly to the side of the bed and stood beside +Joan. The young Cardinal thought that he had never seen a more queenly +pair--Joan resplendent in her girlish strength and beauty, Theresa still +in the ripest glory of womanhood. There was a gentler light than before +in the elder woman's eyes, and she cast an almost deprecating glance +upon Joan. For at the first sound of her approach the girl had stiffened +visibly, and now, with only a formal word as to the sick man's +condition, and a cold bow to Conrad, she moved away. + +Theresa watched her a little sadly as she passed behind the deep +curtain. Then she sighed, and turning again to the bedside she looked +long at the young man without speaking. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +WIFE AND PRIEST + + +"I have a right to call myself the widow of the Duke Henry of Kernsberg +and Hohenstein," said Theresa von Lynar, in reply to Conrad's question +as to whom he might thank for rescue and shelter. + +"And therefore the mother of the Duchess Joan?" he continued. + +Theresa shook her head. + +"No," she said sadly; "I am not her mother, but--and even that only in a +sense--her stepmother. A promise to a dead man has kept me from claiming +any privileges save that of living unknown on this desolate isle of sand +and mist. My son is an officer in the service of the Duchess Joan." + +The face of the Prince-Bishop lighted up instantaneously. + +"Most surely, then, I know him. Did he not come to Courtland with my +Lord Dessauer, the Ambassador of Plassenburg?" + +The lady of Isle Rugen nodded indifferently. + +"Yes," she said; "I believe he went to Courtland with the embassy from +Plassenburg." + +"Indeed, I was much drawn to him," said the Prince eagerly; "I remember +him most vividly. He was of an olive complexion, his features without +colour, but graven even as the Greeks cut those of a young god on a +gem." + +"Yes," said Theresa von Lynar serenely, "he has his father's face and +carriage, which are those also of the Duchess Joan." + +"And why," said the young man, "if I may ask without offence, is your +son not the heir to the Dukedom?" + +There was a downcast sadness in the woman's voice and eye as she +replied, "Because when I wedded Duke Henry it was agreed between us that +aught which might be thereafter should never stand between his daughter +and her heritage; and, in spite of deadly wrong done to those of my +house, I have kept my word." + +The Prince-Cardinal thought long with knitted brow. + +"The Duchess is my brother Louis's wife," he said slowly. + +"In name!" retorted Theresa, quickly and breathlessly, like one called +on unexpectedly to defend an absent friend. + +"She is his wife--I married them. I am a priest," he made answer. + +A gleam, sharp and quick as lightning jetted from a thunder cloud, +sprang into the woman's eye. + +"In this matter I, Theresa von Lynar, am wiser than all the priests in +the world. Joan of Hohenstein is no more his wife than I am!" + +"Holy Church, the mother of us all, made them one!" said the Cardinal +sententiously. For such words come easily to dignitaries even when they +are young. + +She bent towards him and looked long into his eyes. + +"No," she said; "you do not know. How indeed is it possible? You are too +young to have learned the deep things--too certain of your own +righteousness. But you will learn some day. I, Theresa von Lynar, +know--aye, though I bear the name of my father and not that of my +husband!" And at this imperious word the Prince was silent and thought +with gravity upon these things. + +Theresa sat motionless and silent by his bed till the day rose cool and +untroubled out of the east, softly aglow with the sheen of clouded silk, +pearl-grey and delicate. Prince Conrad, being greatly wearied and +bruised inwardly with the buffeting of the waves and the stones of the +shore, slumbered restlessly, with many tossings and turnings. But as oft +as he moved, the hands of the woman who had been a wife were upon him, +ordering his bruised limbs with swift knowledgeable tenderness, so that +he did not wake, but gradually fell back again into dreamless and +refreshing sleep. This was easy to her, because the secret of pain was +not hid from Theresa, the widow of the Duke of Hohenstein--though Henry +the Lion's daughter, as yet, knew it not. + +In the morning Joan came to bid the patient good-morrow, while Werner +von Orseln stood in the doorway with his steel cap doffed in his hand, +and Boris and Jorian bent the knee for a priestly blessing. But Theresa +did not again appear till night and darkness had wrapped the earth. So +being all alone he listened to the heavy plunge of the breakers on the +beach among which his life had been so nearly sped. The sound grew +slower and slower after the storm, until at last only the wavelets of +the sheltered sea lapsed on the shingle in a sort of breathing whisper. + +"Peace! Peace! Great peace!" they seemed to say hour after hour as they +fell on his ear. + +And so day passed and came again. Long nights, too, at first with hourly +tendance and then presently without. But Joan sat no more with the young +man after that first watch, though his soul longed for her, that he +might again tell the girl that she was his brother's wife, and urge her +to do her duty by him who was her wedded husband. So in her absence +Conrad contented himself and salved his conscience by thinking austere +thoughts of his mission and high place in the hierarchy of the only +Catholic and Apostolic Church. So that presently he would rise up and +seek Werner von Orseln in order to persuade him to let him go, that he +might proceed to Rome at the command of the Holy Father, whose servant +he was. + +But Werner only laughed and put him off. + +"When we have sure word of what your brother does at Kernsberg, then we +will talk of this matter. Till then it cannot be hid from you that no +hostage half so valuable can we keep in hold. For if your brother loves +my Lord Cardinal, then he will desire to ransom him. On the other hand, +if he fear him, then we will keep your Highness alive to threaten him, +as the Pope did with Djem, the Sultan's brother!" + +So after many days it was permitted to the Prince to walk abroad within +the narrow bounds of the Isle Rugen, the Wordless Man guarding him at +fifty paces distance, impassive and inevitable as an ambulant rock of +the seaboard. + +As he went Prince Conrad's eyes glanced this way and that, looking for a +means of escape. Yet they saw none, for Werner von Orseln with his ten +men of Kernsberg and the two Captains of Plassenburg were not soldiers +to make mistakes. There was but one boat on the island, and that was +locked in a strong house by the inner shore, and over against it a +sentry paced night and day. It chanced, however, upon a warm and +gracious afternoon, when the breezes played wanderingly among the garden +trees before losing themselves in the solemn aisles of the pines as in a +pillared temple, that Conrad, stepping painfully westwards along the +beach, arrived at the place of his rescue, and, descending the steep +bank of shingle to look for any traces of the disaster, came suddenly +upon the Duchess Joan gazing thoughtfully out to sea. + +She turned quickly, hearing the sound of footsteps, and at sight of the +Prince-Bishop glanced east and west along the shore as if meditating +retreat. + +But the proximity of Max Ulrich and the encompassing banks of water-worn +pebbles convinced her of the awkwardness, if not the impossibility, of +escape. + +[Illustration: "Joan looked steadily across the steel-grey sea." +[_Page 179_]] + +Conrad the prisoner greeted Joan with the sweet gravity which had been +characteristic of him as Conrad the prince, and his eyes shone upon her +with the same affectionate kindliness that had dwelt in them in the +pavilion of the rose garden. But after one glance Joan looked steadily +away across the steel-grey sea. Her feet turned instinctively to walk +back towards the house, and the Prince turned with her. + +"If we are two fellow-prisoners," said Conrad, "we ought to see more of +each other. Is it not so?" + +"That we may concert plans of escape?" said Joan. "You desire to +continue your pilgrimage--I to return to my people, who, alas, think +themselves better off without me!" + +"I do, indeed, greatly desire to see Rome," replied the Prince. "The +Holy Father Sixtus has sent me the red biretta, and has commanded me to +come to Rome within a year to exchange it for the Cardinal's hat, and +also to visit the tombs of the Apostles." + +But Joan was not listening. She went on to speak of the matters which +occupied her own mind. + +"If you were a priest, why did you ride in the great tournament of the +Blacks and the Whites at Courtland not a year ago?" + +The Prince-Cardinal smiled indulgently. + +"I was not then fledged full priest; hardly am I one now, though they +have made me a Prince of Holy Church. Yet the tournaying was in a +manner, perhaps, what her bridal dress is to a nun ere she takes the +veil. But, my Lady Joan, what know you of the strife of Blacks and +Whites at Courtland?" + +"Your sister, the Princess Margaret, spoke of it, and also the Count von +Löen, an officer of mine," answered Joan disingenuously. + +"I am indeed a soldier by training and desire," continued the young man. +"In Italy I have played at stratagem and countermarch with the Orsini +and Colonna. But in this matter the younger son of the house of +Courtland has no choice. We are the bulwark of the Church alike against +heretic Muscovite to the north and furious Hussite to the south. We of +Courtland must stand for the Holy See along all the Baltic edges; and +for this reason the Pope has always chosen from amongst us his +representative upon the Diet of the Empire, till the office has become +almost hereditary." + +"Then you are not really a priest?" said Joan, woman-like fixing upon +that part of the young man's reply, which somehow had the greatest +interest for her. + +"In a sense, yes--in truth, no. They say that the Pope, in order to +forward the Church's polity, makes and unmakes cardinals every day, some +even for money payments; but these are doubtless Hussite lies. Yet +though by prescript right and the command of the head of the Church I am +both priest and bishop, in my heart I am but Prince Conrad of Courtland +and a simple knight, even as I was before." + +They paced along together with their eyes on the ground, the Wordless +Man keeping a uniform distance behind them. Then the Prince laughed a +strange grating laugh, like one who mocks at himself. + +"By this time I ought to have been well on my way to the tombs of the +Apostles; yet in my heart I cannot be sorry, for--God forgive me!--I had +liefer be walking this northern shore, a young man along with a fair +maiden." + +"A priest walking with his brother's wife!" said Joan, turning quickly +upon him and flashing a look into the eyes that regarded her with some +wonder at her imperiousness. + +"That is true, in a sense," he answered; "yet I am a priest with no +consent of my desire--you a wife without love. We are, at least, alike +in this--that we are wife and priest chiefly in name." + +"Save that you are on your way to take on you the duties of your office, +while I am more concerned in evading mine." + +The Cardinal meditated deeply. + +"The world is ill arranged," he said slowly; "my brother Louis would +have made a far better Churchman than I. And strange it is to think that +but a year ago the knights and chief councillors of Courtland came to +me to propose that, because of his bodily weakness, my brother should be +deposed and that I should take over the government and direction of +affairs." + +He went on without noticing the colour rising in Joan's cheek, smiling a +little to himself and talking with more animation. + +"Then, had I assented, my brother might have been walking here with +tonsured head by your side, while I would doubtless have been knocking +at the gates of Kernsberg, seeking at the spear's point for a runaway +bride." + +"Nay!" cried Joan, with sudden vehemence; "that would you not----" + +And as suddenly she stopped, stricken dumb by the sound of her own +words. + +The Prince turned his head full upon her. He saw a face all suffused +with hot blushes, haughtiest pride struggling with angry tears in eyes +that fairly blazed upon him, and a slender figure drawn up into an +attitude of defiance--at sight of all which something took him instantly +by the throat. + +"You mean--you mean----" he stammered, and for a moment was silent. "For +God's sake, tell me what you mean!" + +"I mean nothing at all!" said Joan, stamping her foot in anger. + +And turning upon her heel she left him standing fixed in wonder and +doubt upon the margin of the sea. + +Then the wife of Louis, Prince of Courtland, walked eastward to the +house upon the Isle Rugen with her face set as sternly as for battle, +but her nether lip quivering--while Conrad, Cardinal and Prince of Holy +Church, paced slowly to the west with a bitter and downcast look upon +his ordinarily so sunny countenance. + +For Fate had been exceeding cruel to these two. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE RED LION FLIES AT KERNSBERG + + +And meanwhile right haughtily flew the red lion upon the citadel of +Kernsberg. Never had the Lady Duchess, Joan of the Sword Hand, approven +herself so brave and determined. In her forester's dress of green +velvet, with the links of chain body-armour glinting beneath its frogs +and taches, she went everywhere on foot. At all times of the day she was +to be seen at the half-moons wherein the cannon were fixed, or on +horseback scouring the defenced posts along the city wall. She seemed to +know neither fear nor fatigue, and the noise of cheering followed her +about the little hill city like her shadow. + +Three only there were who knew the truth--Peter Balta, Alt Pikker, and +George the Hussite. And when the guards were set, the lamps lit, and the +bars drawn, a stupid faithful Hohensteiner set on watch at the turnpike +foot with command to let none pass upon his life--then at last the lithe +young Sparhawk would undo his belt with huge refreshful gusting of air +into his lungs, amid the scarcely subdued laughter of the captains of +the host. + +"Lord Peter of the Keys!" Von Lynar would cry, "what it is to unbutton +and untruss! 'Tis very well to admire it in our pretty Joan, but 'fore +the Lord, I would give a thousand crowns if she were not so slender. It +cuts a man in two to get within such a girdle. Only Prince Wasp could +make a shift to fit it. Give me a goblet of ale, fellows." + +"Nay, lad--mead! Mead of ten years alone must thou have, and little +enough of that! Ale will make thee fat as mast-fed pigs." + +"Or stay," amended George the Hussite; "mead is not comely drink for a +maid--I will get thee a little canary and water, scented with +millefleurs and rosemary." + +"Check your fooling and help to unlace me, all of you," quoth the +Sparhawk. "Now there is but a silken cord betwixt me and Paradise. But +it prisons me like iron bars. Ah, there"--he blew a great breath, +filling and emptying his lungs with huge content--"I wonder why we men +breathe with our stomachs and women with their chests?" + +"Know you not that much?" cried Alt Pikker. "'Tis because a man's life +is in his stomach; and as for women, most part have neither heart, +stomach, nor bowels of mercy--and so breathe with whatever it liketh +them!" + +"No ribaldry in a lady's presence, or in a trice thou shalt have none of +these, either!" quoth the false Joan; "help me off with this +thrice-accursed chain-mail. I am pocked from head to heel like a Swiss +mercenary late come from Venice. Every ring in this foul devil's jerkin +is imprinted an inch deep on my hide, and itches worse than a hundred +beggars at a church door. Ah! better, better. Yet not well! I had +thought our Joan of the Sword Hand a strapping wench, but now a hop-pole +is an abbot to her when one comes to wear her _carapace_ and +_justaucorps_!" + +"How went matters to-day on your side?" he went on, speaking to Balta, +all the while chafing the calves of his legs and rubbing his pinched +feet, having first enwrapped himself in a great loose mantle of red and +gold which erstwhile had belonged to Henry the Lion. + +"On the whole, not ill," said Peter Balta. "The Muscovites, indeed, +drove in our outposts, but could not come nearer than a bowshot from the +northern gate, we galled them so with our culverins and bombardels." + +"Duke George's famous Fat Peg herself could not have done better than +our little leathern vixens," said Alt Pikker, rubbing his grey badger's +brush contentedly. "Gott, if we had only provender and water we might +keep them out of the city for ever! But in a week they will certainly +have cut off our river and sent it down the new channel, and the wells +are not enough for half the citizens, to say nothing of the cattle and +horses. This is a great fuss to make about a graceless young jackanapes +of a Jutlander like you, Master Maurice von Lynar, Count von +Löen--wedded wife of his Highness Prince Louis of Courtland. Ha! ha! +ha!" + +"I would have you know, sirrah," cried the Sparhawk, "that if you do not +treat me as your liege lady ought to be treated, I will order you to the +deepest dungeon beneath the castle moat! Come and kiss my hand this +instant, both of you!" + +"Promise not to box our ears, and we will," said Alt Pikker and George +the Hussite together. + +"Well, I will let you off this time," said Maurice royally, stretching +his limbs luxuriously and putting one hosened foot on the mantel-shelf +as high as his head. "Heigh-ho! I wonder how long it will last, and when +we must surrender." + +"Prince Louis must send his Muscovites back beyond the Alla first, and +then we will speak with him concerning giving him up his wife!" quoth +Peter Balta. + +"I wonder what the craven loon will do with her when he gets her," said +Alt Pikker. "You must not surrender in your girdle-brace and ring-mail, +my liege lady, or you will have to sleep with them on. It would not be +seemly to have to call up half a dozen lusty men-at-arms to help untruss +her ladyship the Princess of Courtland!" + +"Perhaps your goodman will kiss you upon the threshold of the palace as +a token of reconciliation!" cackled Hussite George. + +"If he does, I will rip him up!" growled Maurice, aghast at the +suggestion. "But there is no doubt that at the best I shall be between +the thills when they get me once safe in Courtland. To ride the wooden +horse all day were a pleasure to it!" + +But presently his face lighted up and he murmured some words to +himself-- + +"Yet, after all, there is always the Princess Margaret there. I can +confide in her when the worst comes. She will help me in my need--and, +what is better still, she may even kiss me!" + +And, spite of gloomy anticipations, his ears tingled with happy +expectancy, when he thought of opportunities of intimate speech with the +lady of his heart. + + * * * * * + +Nevertheless, in the face of brave words and braver deeds, provisions +waxed scarce and dear in Castle Kernsberg, and in the town below women +grew gaunt and hollow-cheeked. Then the children acquired eyes that +seemed to stand out of hollow purple sockets. Last of all, the stout +burghers grew thin. And all three began to dream of the days when the +good farm-folk of the blackened country down below them, where now stood +the leafy lodges of the Muscovites and the white tents of the +Courtlanders, used to come into Kernsberg to market, the great +solemn-eyed oxen drawing carts full of country sausages, and brown meal +fresh ground from the mill to bake the wholesome bread--or better still +when the stout market women brought in the lappered milk and the butter +and curds. So the starving folk dreamed and dreamed and woke, and cried +out curses on them that had waked them, saying, "Plague take the hands +that pulled me back to this gutter-dog's life! For I was just a-sitting +down to dinner with a haunch of venison for company, and such a lordly +trout, buttered, with green sauce all over him, a loaf of white bread, +crisp and crusty, at my elbow, and--Holy Saint Matthew!--such a noble +flagon of Rhenish, holding ten pints at the least." + +About this time the Sparhawk began to take counsel with himself, and the +issue of his meditations the historian must now relate. + +It was in the outer chamber of the Duchess Joan, which looks to the +north, that the three captains usually sat--burly Peter Balta, +stiff-haired, dry-faced, keen-eyed--Alt Pikker, lean and leathery, the +life humour within him all gone to fighting juice, his limbs mere bone +and muscle, a certain acrid and caustic wit keeping the corners of his +lips on the wicker, and, a little back from these two, George the +Hussite, a smaller man, very solemn even when he was making others +laugh, but nevertheless with a proud high look, a stiff upper lip, and a +moustache so huge that he could tie the ends behind his head on a windy +day. + +These three had been speaking together at the wide, low window from +which one can see the tight little red-roofed town of Kernsberg and the +green Kernswater lying like a bright many-looped ribbon at the foot of +the hills. + +To them entered the Sparhawk, a settled frown of gloom upon his brow, +and the hunger which he shared equally with the others already +sharpening the falcon hook of his nose and whitening his thin nostrils. + +At sight of him the three heads drew apart, and Alt Pikker began to +speak of the stars that were rising in the eastern dusk. + +"The dog-star is white," he said didactically. "In my schooldays I used +to read in the Latin tongue that it was red!" + +But by their interest in such a matter the Sparhawk knew that they had +been speaking of far other things than stars before he burst open the +door. For little George the Hussite pulled his pandour moustaches and +muttered, "A plague on the dog-star and the foul Latin tongue. They are +only fit for the gabble of fat-fed monks. Moreover, you do not see it +now, at any rate. For me, I would I were back under the Bohemian +pinetrees, where the very wine smacks of resin, and where there is a +sheep (your own or another's, it matters not greatly) tied at every true +Hussite's door." + +[Illustration: "These three had been speaking together." [_Page 186_]] + +"What is this?" cried the Sparhawk. "Do not deceive me. You were none of +you talking of stars when I came up the stairs. For I heard Peter +Balta's voice say, 'By Heaven! it must come to it, and soon!' And you +Hussite George, answered him, 'Six days will settle it.' What do you +keep from me? Out with it? Speak up, like three good little men!" + +It was Alt Pikker who first found words to answer. + +"We spoke indeed of the stars, and said it was six days till the moon +should be gone, and that the time would then be ripe for a sally by +the--by the--Plassenburg Gate!" + +"Pshaw!" cried the Sparhawk. "Lie to your father confessor, not to me. I +am not a purblind fool. I have ears, long enough, it is true, but at +least they answer to hear withal. You spoke of the wells, I tell you; I +saw your heads move apart as I entered; and then, forsooth, that dotard +Alt Pikker (who ran away in his youth from a monk's cloister-school with +the nun that taught them stocking-mending) must needs furbish up some +scraps of Latin and begin to prate about dog-stars red and dog-stars +white. Faugh! Open your mouths like men, set truthful hearts behind +them, and let me hear the worst!" + +Nevertheless the three captains of Kernsberg were silent awhile, for +heaviness was upon their souls. Then Peter Balta blurted out, "God help +us! There is but ten days more provender in the city, the river is +turned, and the wells are almost dried up!" + +After this the Sparhawk sat awhile on the low window seat, watching the +twinkling fires of the Muscovites and listening to the hum of the town +beneath the Castle--all now sullen and subdued, no merry hucksters +chaffering about the church porches, no loitering lads and lasses +linking arms and bartering kisses in the dusky corners of the linen +market, no clattering of hammers in the armourers' bazaar--a muffled +buzzing only, as of men talking low to themselves of bitter memories and +yet dismaller expectations. + +"I have it!" said the Sparhawk at last, his eyes on the misty plain of +night, with its twinkling pin-points of fire which were the watch-fires +of the enemy. + +The three men stirred a little to indicate attention, but did not speak. + +"Listen," he said, "and do not interrupt. You must deliver me up. I am +the cause of war--I, the Duchess Joan. Hear you? I have a husband who +makes war upon me because I contemn his bed and board. He has summoned +the Muscovite to help him to woo me. Well, if I am to be given up, it is +for us to stipulate that the armies be withdrawn, first beyond the Alla, +and then as far as Courtland. I will go with them; they will not find me +out--at least, not till they are back in their own land." + +"What matter?" cried Balta. "They would return as soon as they +discovered the cheat." + +"Let us sink or swim together," said Hussite George. "We want no talk of +surrender!" + +But grey dry Alt Pikker said nothing, weighing all with a judicial mind. + +"No, they would not come back," said the Sparhawk; "or, at worst, we +would have time--that is, you would have time--to revictual Kernsberg, +to fill the tanks and reservoirs, to summon in the hillmen. They would +soon learn that there had been no Joan within the city but the one they +had carried back with them to Courtland. Plassenburg, slow to move, +would have time to bring up its men to protect its borders from the +Muscovite. All good chances are possible if only I am out of the way. +Surrender me--but by private treaty, and not till you have seen them +safe across the fords of the Alla!" + +"Nay, God's truth;" cried the three, "that we will not do! They would +kill you by slow torture as soon as they found out that they had been +tricked." + +"Well," said the Sparhawk slowly, "but by that time they _would_ have +been tricked." + +Then Alt Pikker spoke in his turn. + +"Men," he said, "this Dane is a man--a better than any of us. There is +wisdom in what he says. Ye have heard in church how priests preach +concerning One who died for the people. Here is one ready to die--if no +better may be--for the people!" + +"And for our Duchess Joan!" said the Sparhawk, taking his hat from his +head at the name of his mistress. + +"Our Lady Joan! Aye, that is it!" said the old man. "We would all gladly +die in battle for our lady. We have done more--we have risked our own +honour and her favour in order to convey her away from these dangers. +Let the boy be given up; and that he go not alone without fit +attendance, I will go with him as his chamberlain." + +The other two men, Peter Balta and George the Hussite, did not answer +for a space, but sat pondering Alt Pikker's counsel. It was George the +Hussite who took up the parable. + +"I do not see why you, Alt Pikker, and you, Maurice the Dane, should +hold such a pother about what you are ready to do for our Lady Joan. So +are we all every whit as ready and willing as you can be; and I think, +if any are to be given up, we ought to draw lots for who it shall be. +You fancy yourselves overmuch, both of you!" + +The Sparhawk laughed. + +"Great tun-barrelled dolt," he said, clapping Peter on the back, "how +sweet and convincing it would be to see you, or that canting ale-faced +knave George there, dressed up in the girdle-brace and steel corset of +Joan of the Sword Hand! And how would you do as to your beard? Are you +smooth as an egg on both cheeks as I am? It would be rare to have a +Duchess Joan with an inch of blue-black stubble on her chin by the time +she neared the gates of Courtland! Nay, lads, whoever stays--I must go. +In this matter of brides I have qualities (how I got them I know not) +that the best of you cannot lay claim to. Do you draw lots with Alt +Pikker there, an you will, as to who shall accompany me, but leave this +present Joan of the Sword Hand to settle her own little differences with +him who is her husband by the blessing of Holy Church." + +And he threw up his heels upon the table and plaited his knees one above +the other. + +Then it was Alt Pikker's time. + +"Peter Balta, and you, George the Heretic, listen," he cried, vehemently +emphasising the points on the palm of his hand. "You, Peter, have a wife +that loves you--so, at least, we understand--and your Marion, how would +she fare in this hard world without you? Have you laid by a +stocking-foot full of gold? Does it hang inside your chimney? I trow +not. Well, you at least must bide and earn your pay, for Marion's sake. +I have neither kith nor kin, neither sweetheart nor wife, covenanted or +uncovenanted. And for you, George, you are a heretic, and if they burn +you alive or let out the red sap at your neck, you will go straight to +hell-fire. Think of it, George! I, on the other hand, am a true man, and +after a paltry year or two in purgatory (just for the experience) will +enter straightway into the bosom of patriarchs and apostles, along with +our Holy Father the Pope, and our elder brothers the Cardinals Borgia +and Delia Rovere!" + +"You talk a deal of nothings with your mouth," said George the Hussite. +"It is true that I hold not, as you do, that every dishclout in a church +is the holy veil, and every old snag of wood with a nail in't a +veritable piece of the true cross. But I would have you know that I can +do as much for my lady as any one of you--nay, and more, too, Alt +Pikker. For a good Hussite is afraid neither of purgatory nor yet of +hell-fire, because, if he should chance to die, he will go, without +troubling either, straight to the abode of the martyrs and confessors +who have been judged worthy to withstand and to conquer." + +"And as to what you said concerning Marion," nodded Peter Balta +truculently, "she is a soldier's wife and would cut her pretty throat +rather than stand in the way of a man's advancement!" + +"Specially knowing that so pretty a wench as she is could get a better +husband to-morrow an it liked her!" commented Alt Pikker drily. + +"Well," cried the Sparhawk, "still your quarrel, gentlemen. At all +events, the thing is settled. The only question is _when_? How many +days' water is there in the wells?" + +Said Peter Balta, "I will go and see." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE GREETING OF THE PRINCESS MARGARET + + +They were making terms concerning treaty of delivering thus:-- + +"When the last Muscovite has crossed the Alla, when the men of Courtland +stand ready to follow--then, and not sooner, we will deliver up our Lady +Joan. For this we shall receive from you, Louis, Prince of Courtland, +fifty hogsheads of wine, six hundred wagon-loads of good wheat, and the +four great iron cannon now standing before the Stralsund Gate. This all +to be completed before we of Kernsberg hand our Lady over." + +"It is a thing agreed!" answered Louis of Courtland, who longed to be +gone, and, above all, to get his Muscovite allies out of his country. +For not only did they take all the best of everything in the field, but, +like locusts, they spread themselves over the rear, carrying plunder and +rapine through the territories of Courtland itself--treating it, indeed, +as so much conquered country, so that men were daily deserting his +colours in order to go back to protect their wives and daughters from +the Cossacks of the Don and the Strelits of Little Russia. + +Moreover, above all, Prince Louis wanted that proud wench, his wife. +Without her as his prisoner, he dared not go back to his capital city. +He had sworn an oath before the people. For the rest, Kernsberg itself +could wait. Without a head it would soon fall in, and, besides, he +flattered himself that he would so sway and influence the Duchess, when +once he had her safe in his palace by the mouth of Alla, that she would +repent her folly, and at no distant day sit knee by knee with him on his +throne of state in the audience hall when the suitors came to plead +concerning the law. + +And even his guest Prince Ivan was complaisant, standing behind Louis's +chair and smiling subtly to himself. + +"Brother of mine," he would say, "I came to help you to your wife. It is +your own affair how you take her and what you do with her when you get +her. For me, as soon as you have her safe within the summer palace, and +have given me, according to promise, my heart's desire your sister +Margaret, so soon will I depart for Moscow. My father, indeed, sends +daily posts praying my instant despatch, for he only waits my return to +launch a host upon his enemy the King of Polognia." + +And Prince Louis, reaching over the arm of his chair, patted his +friend's small sweet-scented hand, and thanked him for his most +unselfish and generous assistance. + +Thus the leaguer of Hohenstein attained its object. Prince Louis had +not, it is true, stormed the heights of Kernsberg as he had sworn to do. +He had, in fact, left behind him to the traitors who delivered their +Duchess a large portion of his stores and munitions of war. +Nevertheless, he returned proud in heart to his capital city. For in the +midst of his most faithful body of cavalry rode the young Duchess Joan, +Princess of Courtland, on a white Neapolitan barb, with reins that +jingled like silver bells and rosettes of ribbon on the bosses of her +harness. + +The beautiful prisoner appeared, as was natural, somewhat wan and +anxious. She was clad in a close-fitting gown of pale blue, with +inch-wide broidering of gold, laced in front, and with a train which +drooped almost to the ground. Over this a cloak of deeper blue was worn, +with a hood in which the dark, proud head of the Princess nestled half +hidden and half revealed. The folk who crowded to see her go by took +this for coquetry. She rode with only the one councillor by her who had +dared to share her captivity--one Alt Pikker, a favourite veteran of her +little army, and the master-swordsman (they said) who had instructed her +in the use of arms. + +No indignity had been offered to her. Indeed, as great honour was done +her as was possible in the circumstances. Prince Louis had approached +and led her by the hand to the steed which awaited her at the fords of +the Alla. The soldiers of Courtland elevated their spears and the +trumpets of both hosts brayed a salute. Then, without a word spoken, her +husband had bowed and withdrawn as a gentleman should. Prince Ivan then +approached, and on one knee begged the privilege of kissing her fair +hand. + +The traitors of Kernsberg, who had bartered their mistress for several +tuns of Rhenish, could not meet her eye, but stood gloomily apart with +faces sad and downcast, and from within the town came the sound of women +weeping. Only George the Hussite stood by with a smile on his face and +his thumbs stuck in his waistband. + +The captive Princess spoke not at all, as was indeed natural and +fitting. A woman conquered does not easily forgive those who have +humbled her pride. She talked little even to Alt Pikker, and then only +apart. The nearest guide, who had been chosen because of his knowledge +of German, could not hear a murmur. With bowed head and eyes that dwelt +steadily on the undulating mane of her white barb, Joan swayed her +graceful body and compressed her lips like one captured but in nowise +vanquished. And the soldiers of the army of Courtland (those of them who +were married) whispered one to another, noting her demeanour, "Our good +Prince is but at the beginning of his troubles; for, by Brunhild, did +you ever see such a wench? They say she can engage any two fencers of +her army at one time!" + +"Her eye itself is like a rapier thrust," whispered another. "Just now I +went near her to look, and she arched an eyebrow at me, no more--and +lo! I went cold at my marrow as if I felt the blue steel stand out at my +backbone." + +"It is the hunger and the anger that have done it," said another; "and, +indeed, small wonder! She looked not so pale when I saw her ride along +Courtland Street that day to the Dom--the day she was to be married. +Then her eyes did not pierce you through, but instead they shone with +their own proper light and were very gracious." + +"A strange wench, a most strange wench," responded the first, "so soon +to change her mind." + +"Ha!" laughed his companion, "little do you know if you say so! She is a +woman--small doubt of that! Besides, is she not a princess? and +wherefore should our Prince's wife not change her mind?" + +They entered Courtland, and the flags flew gaily as on the day of +wedding. The drums beat, and the populace drank from spigots that foamed +red wine. Then Louis the Prince came, with hat in hand, and begged that +the Princess Joan would graciously allow him to ride beside her through +the streets. He spoke respectfully, and Joan could only bow her head in +acquiescence. + +Thus they came to the courtyard of the palace, the people shouting +behind them. There, on the steps, gowned in white and gold, with bare +head overrun with ringlets, stood the Princess Margaret among her women. +And at sight of her the heart of the false Princess gave a mighty bound, +as Joan of the Sword Hand drew her hood closer about her face and tried +to remember in what fashion a lady dismounted from her horse. + +"My lady," said Prince Louis, standing hat in hand before her barb, "I +commit you to the care of my sister, the Princess Margaret, knowing the +ancient friendship that there is between you two. She will speak for me, +knowing all my will, and being also herself shortly contracted in +marriage to my good friend, Prince Ivan of Muscovy. Open your hearts to +each other, I pray you, and be assured that no evil or indignity shall +befall one whom I admire as the fairest of women and honour as my wedded +wife!" + +Joan made no answer, but leaped from her horse without waiting for the +hand of Alt Pikker, which many thought strange. In another moment the +arms of the Princess Margaret were about her neck, and that impulsive +Princess was kissing her heartily on cheek and lips, talking all the +while through her tears. + +"Quick! Let us get in from all these staring stupid men. You are to +lodge in my palace so long as it lists you. My brother hath promised it. +Where are your women?" + +"I have no women," said Joan, in a low voice, blushing meanwhile; "they +would not accompany a poor betrayed prisoner from Kernsberg to a prison +cell!" + +"Prison cell, indeed! You will find that I have a very comfortable +dungeon ready for you! Come--my maidens will assist you. Hasten--pray do +make haste!" cried the impetuous little lady, her arm close about the +tall Joan. + +"I thank you," said the false bride, with some reluctance, "but I am +well accustomed to wait on myself." + +"Indeed, I do not wonder," cried the ready Princess; "maids are +vexatious creatures, well called 'tirewomen.' But come--see the +beautiful rooms I have chosen for you! Make haste and take off your +cloak, and then I will come to you; I am fairly dying to talk. Ah, why +did you not tell me that day? That was ill done. I would have ridden so +gladly with you. It was a glorious thing to do, and has made you famous +all over the world, they say. I have been thinking ever since what I can +do to be upsides with you and make them talk about me. I will give them +a surprise one day that shall be great as yours. But perhaps I may not +wait till I am married to do it." + +And she took her friend by the hand and with a light-hearted skipping +motion convoyed her to her summer palace, kissed her again at the door, +and shut her in with another imperious adjuration to be speedy. + +"I will give you a quarter of an hour," she cried, as she lingered a +moment; "then I will come to hear all your story, every word." + +Then the false Princess staggered rather than walked to a chair, for +brain and eye were reeling. + +"God wot," she murmured; "strange things to hear, indeed! Sweet lady, +you little know how strange! This is ten thousand times a straiter place +to be in than when I played the Count von Löen. Ah, women, women, what +you bring a poor innocent man to!" + +So, without unhooking her cloak or even throwing back the hood, this +sadly bewildered bride sat down and tried to select any hopeful line of +action out of the whirling chaos of her thoughts. And even as she sat +there a knock came sharply at the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +LOVE'S CLEAR EYE + + +"And now," cried Princess Margaret, clapping her hands together +impulsively, "now at last I shall hear everything. Why you went away, +and who gave you up, and about the fighting. Ugh! the traitors, to +betray you after all! I would have their heads off--and all to save +their wretched town and the lives of some score of fat burghers!" + +So far the Princess Margaret had never once looked at the Sparhawk in +his borrowed plumage, as he stood uneasily enough by the fireplace of +the summer palace, leaning an elbow on the mantelshelf. But now she +turned quickly to her guest. + +"Oh, I love you!" she cried, running to Maurice and throwing her arms +about her false sister-in-law in an impulsive little hug. "I think you +are so brave. Is my hair sadly tangled? Tell me truly, Joan. The wind +hath tumbled it about mine eyes. Not that it matters--with you!" + +She said the last words with a little sigh. + +Then the Princess Margaret tripped across the polished floor to a +dressing-table which had been set out in the angle between the two +windows. She turned the combs and brushes over with a contumelious hand. + +"Where is your hand-glass?" she cried. "Do not tell me that you have +never looked in it since you came to Courtland, or that you can put up +with that squinting falsifier up there." She pointed to the oval-framed +Venetian mirror which was hung opposite her. "It twists your face all +awry, this way and that, like a monkey cracking a nut. 'Twas well enough +for our good Conrad, but the Princess Joan is another matter." + +"I have never even looked in either!" said the Sparhawk. + +Some subtle difference in tone of voice caused the Princess to stop her +work of patting into temporary docility her fair clustering ringlets, +winding them about her fingers and rearranging to greater advantage the +little golden combs which held her sadly rebellious tresses in place. +She looked keenly at the Sparhawk, standing with both her shapely arms +at the back of her head and holding a long ivory pin with a head of +bright green malachite between her small white teeth. + +"Your voice is hoarse--somehow you are different," she said, taking the +pin from her lips and slipping it through the rebellious plaits with a +swift vindictive motion. + +"I have caught a cold riding into the city," quoth the Sparhawk hastily, +blushing uneasily under her eyes. But for the time being his disguise +was safe. Already Margaret of Courtland was thinking of something else. + +"Tell me," she began, going to the window and gazing pensively out upon +the green white-flecked pour of the Alla, swirling under the beams of +the Summer Palace, "how many of your suite have followed you hither?" + +"Only Alt Pikker, my second captain!" said the Sparhawk. + +Again the tones of his voice seemed to touch her woman's ear with some +subtile perplexity even in the midst of her abstraction. Margaret turned +her eyes again upon Maurice, and kept them there till he shivered in the +flowing, golden-belted dress of velvet which sat so handsomely upon his +splendid figure. + +"And your chief captain, Von Orseln?" The Princess seemed to be +meditating again, her thoughts far from the rush of the Alla beneath +and from the throat voice of the false Princess before her. + +"Von Orseln has gone to the Baltic Edge to raise on my behalf the folk +of the marshes!" answered the Sparhawk warily. + +"Then there was----" the Princess hesitated, and her own voice grew a +trifle lower--"the young man who came hither as Dessauer's +secretary--what of him? The Count von Löen, if I mistake not--that was +his name?" + +"He is a traitor!" + +The Princess turned quickly. + +"Nay," she said, "you do not think so. Your voice is kind when you speak +of him. Besides, I am sure he is no traitor. Where is he?" + +"He is in the place where he most wishes to be--with the woman he +loves!" + +The light died out of the bright face of the Princess Margaret at the +answer, even as a dun snow-cloud wipes the sunshine off a landscape. + +"The woman he loves?" she stammered, as if she could not have heard +aright. + +"Aye," said the false bride, loosening her cloak and casting it behind +her. "I swear it. He is with the woman he loves." + +But in his heart the Sparhawk was saying, "Steady, Master Maurice von +Lynar--or all will be out in five minutes." + +The Princess Margaret walked determinedly from the window to the +fireplace. She was not so tall by half a head as her guest, but to the +eyes of the Sparhawk she towered above him like a young poplar tree. He +shrank from her searching glance. + +The Princess laid her hand upon the sleeve of the velvet gown. A flush +of anger crimsoned her fair face. + +"Ah!" she cried, "I see it all now, madam the Princess. You love the +Count and you think to blind me. This is the reason of your riding off +with him on your wedding day. I saw you go by his side. You sent Count +Maurice to bring to you the four hundred lances of Kernsberg. It was for +his sake that you left my brother Prince Louis at the church door. Like +draws to like, they say, and your eyes even now are as like as peas to +those of the Count von Löen." + +And this, indeed, could the Sparhawk in no wise deny. The Princess went +her angry way. + +"There have been many lies told," she cried, raising the pitch of her +voice, "but I am not blind. I can see through them. I am a woman and can +gauge a woman's pretext. You yourself are in love with the Count von +Löen, and yet you tell me that he is with the woman he loves. Bah! he +loves you--you, his mistress--next, that is, to his selfish self-seeking +self. If he is with the woman he loves, as you say, tell me her name!" + +There came a knocking at the door. + +"Who is there?" demanded imperiously the Princess Margaret. + +"The Prince of Muscovy, to present his duty to the Princess of +Courtland!" + +"I do not wish to see him--I will not see him!" said the Sparhawk +hastily, who felt that one inquisitor at a time was as much as he could +hope to deal with. + +"Enter!" said the Princess Margaret haughtily. + +The Prince opened the door and stood on the threshold bowing to the +ladies. + +"Well?" queried Margaret of Courtland, without further acknowledgment of +his salutation than the slightest and chillest nod. + +"My service to both, noble Princesses," the answer came with suave +deference. "The Prince Louis sent me to beg of his noble spouse, the +Princess Joan, that she would deign to receive him." + +"Tell Louis that the Princess will receive him at her own time. He ought +to have better manners than to trouble a lady yet weary from a long +journey. And as for you, Prince Ivan, you have our leave to go!" + +Whilst Margaret was speaking the Prince had fixed his piercing eyes upon +the Sparhawk, as if already he had penetrated his secret. But because +he was a man Maurice sustained the searching gaze with haughty +indifference. The Prince of Muscovy turned upon the Princess Margaret +with a bright smile. + +"All this makes an ill lesson for you, my fair betrothed," he said, +bowing to her; "but--there will be no riding home once we have you in +Moscow!" + +"True, I shall not need to return, for I shall never ride thither!" +retorted the Princess. "Moreover, I would have you remember that I am +not your betrothed. The Prince Louis is your betrothed, if you have any +in Courtland. You can carry him to Moscow an you will, and comfort each +other there." + +"That also I may do some day, madam!" flashed Prince Wasp, stirred to +quick irritation. "But in the meantime, Princess Joan, does it please +you to signify when you will receive your husband?" + +"No! no! no!" whispered the Sparhawk in great perturbation. + +The Princess Margaret pointed to the door. + +"Go!" she said. "I myself will signify to my brother when he can wait +upon the Princess." + +"My Lady Margaret," the Muscovite purred in answer, "think you it is +wise thus to encourage rebellion in the most sacred relations of life?" + +The Princess Margaret trilled into merriest laughter and reached back a +hand to take Joan's fingers in hers protectingly. + +"The homily of the most reverend churchman, Prince Ivan of Muscovy, upon +matrimony; Judas condemning treachery, Satan rebuking sin, were nothing +to this!" + +With all his faults the Prince had humour, the humour of a torture scene +in some painted monkish Inferno. + +"Agreed," he said, smiling; "and what does the Princess Margaret +protecting that pale shrinking flower, Joan of the Sword Hand, remind +you of?" + +"That the room of Prince Ivan is more welcome to ladies than his +company!" retorted Margaret of Courtland, still holding the Sparhawk's +hand between both of hers, and keeping her angry eyes and petulant +flower face indignantly upon the intruder. + +Had Prince Ivan been looking at her companion at that moment he might +have penetrated the disguise, so tender and devoted a light of love +dwelt on the Sparhawk's countenance and beaconed from his eyes. But he +only bowed deferentially and withdrew. Margaret and the Sparhawk were +left once more alone. + +The two stood thus while the brisk footsteps of Prince Wasp thinned out +down the corridor. Then Margaret turned swiftly upon her tall companion +and, still keeping her hand, she pulled Maurice over to the window. Then +in the fuller light she scanned the Sparhawk's features with a kindling +eye and paling lips. + +"God in heaven!" she palpitated, holding him at a greater distance, "you +are not the Lady Joan; you are--you are----" + +"The man who loves you!" said the Sparhawk, who was very pale. + +"The Count von Löen. Oh! Maurice, why did you risk it?" she gasped. +"They will kill you, tear you to pieces without remorse, when they find +out. And it is a thing that cannot be kept secret. Why did you do it?" + +"For your sake, beloved," said the Sparhawk, coming nearer to her; "to +look once more on your face--to behold once, if no more, the lips that +kissed me in the dark by the river brink!" + +"But--but--you may forfeit your life!" + +"And a thousand lives!" cried the Sparhawk, nervously pulling at his +woman's dress as if ashamed that he must wear it at such a time. "Life +without you is naught to Maurice von Lynar!" + +A glow of conscious happiness rose warm and pink upon the cheeks of the +Princess Margaret. + +"Besides," added Maurice, "the captains of Kernsberg considered that +thus alone could their mistress be saved." + +The glow paled a little. + +"What! by sacrificing you? But perhaps you did it for her sake, and not +wholly, as you say, for mine!" + +There was no such thought in her heart, but she wished to hear him deny +it. + +"Nay, my one lady," he answered; "I was, indeed, more than ready to come +to Courtland, but it was because of the hope that surged through my +heart, as flame leaps through tow, that I should see you and hear your +voice!" + +The Princess held out her hands impulsively and then retracted them as +suddenly. + +"Now, we must not waste time," she said; "I must save you. They would +slay you on the least suspicion. But I will match them. Would to God +that Conrad were here. To him I could speak. I could trust him. He would +help us. Let me see! Let me see!" + +She bent her head and walked slowly to the window. Like every true +Courtlander she thought best when she could watch the swirl of the green +Alla against its banks. The Sparhawk took a step as if to follow, but +instead stood still where he was, drinking in her proud and girlish +beauty. To the eye of any spy they were no more than two noble ladies +who had quarrelled, the smaller and slighter of whom had turned her back +upon the taller! + +They were in the same position still, and the white foam-fleck which +Margaret was following with her eyes had not vanished from her sight, +when the door of the summer palace was rudely thrown open and an officer +announced in a loud and strident tone, "The Prince Louis to visit his +Princess!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE ROYAL MINX + + +Prince Louis entered, flushed and excited. His eyes had lost their +furtive meanness and blazed with a kind of reckless fury quite foreign +to his nature, for anger affected him as wine might another man. + +He spoke first to the Princess Margaret. + +"And so, my fair sister," he said, "you would foment rebellion even in +my palace and concoct conspiracy with my own married wife. Make ready, +madam, for to-morrow you shall find your master. I will marry you to the +Prince Ivan of Muscovy. He will carry you to Moscow, where ladies of +your breed are taught to obey. And if they will not--why, their delicate +skins may chance to be caressed with instruments less tender than +lovers' fingers. Go--make you ready. You shall be wed and that +immediately. And leave me alone with my wife." + +"I will not marry the Prince of Muscovy," his sister answered calmly. "I +would rather die by the axe of your public executioner. I would wed with +the vilest scullion that squabbles with the swine for gobbets in the +gutters of Courtland, rather than sit on a throne with such a man!" + +The Prince nodded sagely. + +"A pretty spirit--a true Courtland spirit," he said mockingly. "I had +the same within my heart when I was young. Conrad hath it now--priest +though he be. Nevertheless, he is off to Rome to kiss the Pope's toe. By +my faith, Gretchen lass, you show a very pretty spirit!" + +He wheeled about and looked towards the false Joan, who was standing +gripping nails into palms by the chimney-mantel. + +"And you, my lady," he said, "you have had your turn of rebellion. But +once is enough. You are conquered now. You are a wedded wife. Your place +is with your husband. You sleep in my palace to-night!" + +"If I do," muttered the Sparhawk, "I know who will wake in hell +to-morrow!" + +"My brother Louis," cried the Princess Margaret, running up to him and +taking his arm coaxingly, "do not be so hasty with two poor women. +Neither of us desire aught but to do your will. But give us time. Spare +us, for you are strong. 'A woman's way is the wind's way'--you know our +Courtland proverb. You cannot harness the Northern Lights to your +chariot-wheels. Woo us--coax us--aye, even deceive us; but do not force +us. Louis, Louis, I thought you were wise, and yet I see that you know +not the alphabet of love. Here is your lady. Have you ever said a loving +word to her, bent the knee, kissed her hand--which, being persisted in, +is the true way to kiss the mouth?" + +("If he does either," growled the Sparhawk, "my sword will kiss his +midriff!") + +Prince Louis smiled. He was not used to women's flatteries, and in his +present state of exaltation the cajoleries of the Princess suited his +mood. He swelled with self-importance, puffing his cheeks and twirling +his grey moustache upwards with the finger and thumb of his left hand. + +"I know more of women than you think, sister," he made answer. "I have +had experiences--in my youth, that is; I am no puppet princeling. By +Saint Mark! once on a day I strutted it with the boldest; and +to-day--well, now that I have humbled this proud madam and brought her +to my own city, why, I will show you that I am no Wendish boor. I can +sue a lady's favour as courteously as any man--and, Margaret, if you +will promise me to be a good girl and get you ready to be married +to-morrow, I promise you that Louis of Courtland will solicit his lady's +favour with all grace and observance." + +"Gladly will I be married to-morrow," said the Princess, caressing her +brother's sleeve--"that is, if I cannot be married to-day!" she added +under her breath. + +But she paused a few moments as if embarrassed. + +Then she went on. + +"Brother Louis, I have spoken with my sister here--your wife, the Lady +Joan. She hath a scruple concerning matrimony. She would have it +resolved before she hath speech with you again. Permit our good Father +Clement to advise with her." + +"Father Clement--our Conrad's tutor, why he more than another?" + +"Well, do you not understand? He is old," pleaded Margaret, "and there +are things one can say easiest to an old man. You understand, brother +Louis." + +The Prince nodded, well pleased. This was pleasant. His mentor, Prince +Wasp, did not usually flatter him. Rather he made him chafe on a tight +rein. + +"And if I send Father Clement to you, chit," he said patting his +sister's softly rounded cheek, "will he both persuade you and ease the +scruples of my Lady Joan? I am as delicate and understanding as any man. +I will not drive a woman when she desires to be led. But led or driven +she must be. For to my will she must come at last." + +"I knew it, I knew it!" she cried joyously. "Again you are mine own +Louis, my dear sweet brother! When will Father Clement come?" + +"As soon as he can be sent for," the Prince answered. "He will come +directly here to the Summer Palace. And till then you two fair maids can +abide together. Princess, my wife, I kiss your noble hand. Margaret, +your cheek. Till to-morrow--till to-morrow!" + +He went out with an awkward attempt at airy grace curiously grafted on +his usually saturnine manners. The door closed behind him. Margaret of +Courtland listened a moment with bated breath and finger on lip. A +shouted order reached her ear from beneath. Then came the tramp of +disciplined feet, and again they heard only the swirl of the Alla +fretting about the piles of the Summer Palace. + +Then, quickly dropping her lover's fingers, Margaret took hold of her +own dress at either side daintily and circled about the Sparhawk in a +light-tripping dance. + +"Ah, Louis--we will be so good and bidable--to-morrow. To-morrow you +will see me a loving and obedient wife. To-morrow I will wed Prince +Wasp. Meantime--to-day you and I, Maurice, will consult Father Clement, +mine ancient confessor, who will do anything I ask him. To-day we will +dance--put your arm about my waist--firmly--so! There, we will dance at +a wedding to-day, you and I. For in that brave velvet robe you shall be +married!" + +"What?" cried the Sparhawk, stopping suddenly. His impulsive sweetheart +caught him again into the dance as she swept by in her impetuous career. + +"Yes," she nodded, minueting before him. "It is as I say--you are to be +married all over again. And when you ride off I will ride with you--no +slipping your marriage engagements this time, good sir. I know your +Kernsberg manners now. You will not find me so slack as my brother!" + +"Margaret!" cried the Sparhawk. And with one bound he had her against +his breast. + +"Oh!" she cried, with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, as she submitted +to his embrace, "I don't love you half as much in that dress. Why, it is +like kissing another girl at the convent. Ugh, the cats!" + +She was not permitted to say any more. The Alla was heard very clearly +in the Summer Palace as it swept the too swift moments with it away +towards the sea which is oblivion. Then after a time, and a time and +half a time, the Princess Margaret slowly emerged. + +"No," she said retrospectively, "it is not like the convent, after +all--not a bit." + + * * * * * + +"Affection is ever seemly, especially between great ladies--also +unusual!" said a bass voice, speaking grave and kindly behind them. + +The Sparhawk turned quickly round, the crimson rushing instant to his +cheek. + +"Father--dear Father Clement!" cried Margaret, running to the noble old +man who stood by the door and kneeling down for his blessing. He gave it +simply and benignantly, and laid his hand a moment on the rippling +masses of her fair hair. Then he turned his eyes upon the Sparhawk. + +The confusion of his beautiful penitent, the flush which mounted to her +neck even as she kneeled, added to a certain level defiance in the +glance of her taller companion, told him almost at a glance that which +had been so carefully concealed. For the Father was a man of much +experience. A man who hears a dozen confessions every day of his life +through a wicket in a box grows accustomed to distinguishing the finer +differences of sex. His glance travelled back and forth, from the +Sparhawk to Margaret, and from Margaret to the Sparhawk. + +"Ah!" he said at last, for all comment. + +The Princess rose to her feet and approached the priest. + +"My Father," she said swiftly, "this is not the Lady Joan, my brother's +wife, but a youth marvellously like her, who hath offered himself in her +place that she might escape----" + +"Nay," said the Sparhawk, "it was to see you once again, Lady Margaret, +that I came to Courtland!" + +"Hush! you must not interrupt," she went on, putting him aside with her +hand. "He is the Count von Löen, a lord of Kernsberg. And I love him. We +want you to marry us now, dear Father--now, without a moment's delay; +for if you do not, they will kill him, and I shall have to marry Prince +Wasp!" + +She clasped her hands about his arm. + +"Will you?" she said, looking up beseechingly at him. + +The Princess Margaret was a lady who knew her mind and so bent other +minds to her own. + +The Father stood smiling a little down upon her, more with his eyes than +with his lips. + +"They will kill him and marry you, if I do. And, moreover, pray tell me, +little one, what will they do to me?" he said. + +"Father, they would not dare to meddle with you. Your office--your +sanctity--Holy Mother Church herself would protect you. If Conrad were +here, he would do it for me. I am sure he would marry us. I could tell +him everything. But he is far, far away, on his knees at the shrine of +Holy Saint Peter, most like." + +"And you, young masquerader," said Father Clement, turning to the +Sparhawk, "what say you to all this? Is this your wish, as well as that +of the Princess Margaret? I must know all before I consent to put my old +neck into the halter!" + +"I will do whatever the Princess wishes. Her will is mine." + +"Do not make a virtue of that, young man," said the priest smiling; "the +will of the Princess is also that of most people with whom she comes in +contact. Submission is no distinction where our Lady Margaret is +concerned. Why, ever since she was so high" (he indicated with his +hand), "I declare the minx hath set her own penances and dictated her +own absolutions." + +"You have indeed been a sweet confessor," murmured Margaret of +Courtland, still clasping the Father's arm and looking up fondly into +his face. "And you will do as I ask you this once. I will not ask for +such a long time again." + +The priest laughed a short laugh. + +"Nay, if I do marry you to this gentleman, I hope it will serve for a +while. I cannot marry Princesses of the Empire to carnival mummers more +than once a week!" + +A quick frown formed on the brow of Maurice von Lynar. He took a step +nearer. The priest put up his hand, with the palm outspread in a sort of +counterfeit alarm. + +"Nay, I know not if it will last even a week if bride and groom are both +so much of the same temper. Gently, good sir, gently and softly. I must +go carefully myself. I am bringing my grey hairs unpleasantly near the +gallows. I must consider my duty, and you must respect my office." + +The Sparhawk dropped on one knee and bent his head. + +"Ah, that is better," said the priest, making the sign of benediction +above the clustered raven locks. "Rise, sir, I would speak with you a +moment apart. My Lady Margaret, will you please to walk on the terrace +there while I confer with--the Lady Joan upon obedience, according to +the commandment of the Prince." + +As he spoke the last words he made a little movement towards the +corridor with his hand, at the same moment elevating his voice. The +Princess caught his meaning and, before either of her companions could +stop her, she tiptoed to the door, set her hand softly to the latch, and +suddenly flung it open. Prince Louis stood without, with head bowed to +listen. + +The Princess shrilled into a little peal of laughter. + +"Brother Louis!" she cried, clapping her hands, "we have caught you. You +must restrain your youthful, your too ardent affections. Your bride is +about to confess. This is no time for mandolins and serenades. You +should have tried those beneath her windows in Kernsberg. They might +have wooed her better than arbalist and mangonel." + +The Prince glared at his _débonnaire_ sister as if he could have slain +her on the spot. + +"I returned," he said formally, speaking to the disguised Maurice, "to +inform the Princess that her rooms in the main palace were ready for her +whenever she deigns to occupy them." + +"I thank you, Prince Louis," returned the false Princess, bowing. In his +character of a woman betrayed and led prisoner the Sparhawk was sparing +of his words--and for other reasons as well. + +"Come, brother, your arm," said the Princess. "You and I must not +intrude. We will leave the good Father and his fair penitent. Will you +walk with me on the terrace? I, on my part, will listen to your lover's +confessions and give you plenary absolution--even for listening at +keyholes. Come, dear brother, come!" + +And with one gay glance shot backward at the Sparhawk, half over her +shoulder, the Lady Margaret took the unwilling arm of her brother and +swept out. Verily, as Father Clement had said, she was a royal minx. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE PRINCESS MARGARET IS IN A HURRY + + +The priest waited till their footsteps died away down the corridor +before going to the door to shut it. Then he turned and faced the +Sparhawk with a very different countenance to that which he had bent +upon the Princess Margaret. + +Generally, when women leave a room the thermometer drops suddenly many +degrees nearer the zero of verity. There is all the difference between +velvet sheath and bare blade, between the courtesies of seconds and the +first clash of the steel in the hands of principals. There are, let us +say, two men and one woman. The woman is in the midst. Smile answers +smile. Masks are up. The sun shines in. She goes--and before the smile +of parting has fluttered from her lips, lo! iron answers iron on the +faces of the men. Off, ye lendings! Salute! Engage! To the death! + +There was nothing, however, very deadly in the encounter of the Sparhawk +and Father Clement. It was only as if a couple of carnival maskers had +stepped aside out of the whirl of a dance to talk a little business in +some quiet alcove. The Father foresaw the difficulty of his task. The +Sparhawk was conscious of the awkwardness of maintaining a manly dignity +in a woman's gown. He felt, as it were, choked about the legs in another +man's presence. + +"And now, sir," said the priest abruptly, "who may you be?" + +"Father, I am a servant to the Duchess Joan of Hohenstein and +Kernsberg. Maurice von Lynar is my name." + +"And pray, how came you so like the Duchess that you can pass muster for +her?" + +"That I know not. It is an affair upon which I was not consulted. But, +indeed, I do it but poorly, and succeed only with those who know her +little, and who are in addition men without observation. Both the +Princess and yourself saw through me easily enough, and I am in fear +every moment I am near Prince Ivan." + +"How came the Princess to love you?" + +"Well, for one thing, I loved her. For another, I told her so!" + +"The points are well taken, but of themselves insufficient," smiled the +priest. "So also have others better equipped by fortune to win her +favour than you. What else?" + +Then, with a certain shamefaced and sulky pride, the Sparhawk told +Father Clement all the tale of the mission of the Duchess Joan of +Courtland, of the liking the Princess had taken to that lady in her +secretary's attire, of the kiss exchanged upon the dark river's bank, +the fragrant memory of which had drawn him back to Courtland against his +will. And the priest listened like a man of many counsels who knows that +the strangest things are the truest, and that the naked truth is always +incredible. + +"It is a pretty tangle you have made between you," said Father Clement +when Maurice finished. "I know not how you could more completely have +twisted the skein. Every one is somebody else, and the devil is hard +upon the hindmost--or Prince Ivan, which is apparently the same thing." + +The priest now withdrew in his turn to where he could watch the Alla +curving its back a little in mid-stream as the summer floods rushed +seaward from the hills. To true Courtland folk its very bubbles brought +counsel as they floated down towards the Baltic. + +"Let me see! Let me see!" he murmured, stroking his chin. + +Then after a long pause he turned again to the Sparhawk. + +"You are of sufficient fortune to maintain the Princess as becomes her +rank?" + +"I am not a rich man," answered Von Lynar, "but by the grace of the +Duchess Joan neither am I a poor one. She hath bestowed on me one of her +father's titles, with lands to match." + +"So," said the priest; "but will Prince Louis and the Muscovites give +you leave to enjoy them?" + +"The estates are on the borders of Plassenburg," said Maurice, "and I +think the Prince of Plassenburg for his own security will provide +against any Muscovite invasion." + +"Princes are but princes, though I grant you the Executioner's Son is a +good one," answered the priest. "Well, better to marry than to burn, +sayeth Holy Writ. It is touch and go, in any event. I will marry you and +thereafter betake me to the Abbey of Wolgast, where dwells my very good +friend the Abbot Tobias. For old sake's sake he will keep me safe there +till this thing blows over." + +"With my heart I thank you, my Father," said the Sparhawk, kneeling. + +"Nay, do not thank me. Rather thank the pretty insistency of your +mistress. Yet it is only bringing you both one step nearer destruction. +Walking upon egg-shells is child's play to this. But I never could +refuse your sweetheart either a comfit or an absolution all my days. To +my shame as a servant of God I say it. I will go and call her in." + +He went to the door with a curious smile on his face. He opened it, and +there, close by the threshold, was the Princess Margaret, her eyes full +of a bright mischief. + +"Yes, I was listening," she cried, shaking her head defiantly. "I do not +care. So would you, Father, if you had been a woman and in love----" + +"God forbid!" said Father Clement, crossing himself. + +"You may well make sure of heavenly happiness, my Father, for you will +never know what the happiness of earth is!" cried Margaret. "I would +rather be a woman and in love, than--than the Pope himself and sit in +the chair of St. Peter." + +"My daughter, do not be irreverent." + +"Father Clement, were you ever in love? No, of course you cannot tell +me; but I think you must have been. Your eyes are kind when you look at +us. You are going to do what we wish--I know you are. I heard you say so +to Maurice. Now begin." + +"You speak as if the Holy Sacrament of matrimony were no more than +saying 'Abracadabra' over a toadstool to cure warts," said the priest, +smiling. "Consider your danger, the evil case in which you will put me +when the thing is discovered----" + +"I will consider anything, dear Father, if you will only make haste," +said the Princess, with a smiling natural vivacity that killed any +verbal disrespect. + +"Nay, madcap, be patient. We must have a witness whose head sits on his +shoulders beyond the risk of Prince Louis's halter or Prince Ivan's +Muscovite dagger. What say you to the High Councillor of Plassenburg, +Von Dessauer? He is here on an embassy." + +The Princess clapped her hands. + +"Yes, yes. He will do it. He will keep our secret. He also likes pretty +girls." + +"Also?" queried Father Clement, with a grave and demure countenance. + +"Yes, Father, you know you do----" + +"It is a thing most strictly forbidden by Holy Church that in fulfilling +the duties of sacred office one should be swayed by any merely human +considerations," began the priest, the wrinkles puckering about his +eyes, though his lips continued grave. + +"Oh, please, save the homily till after sacrament, dear Father!" cried +the Princess. "You know you like me, and that you cannot help it." + +The priest lifted up his hand and glanced upward, as if deprecating the +anger of Heaven. + +"Alas, it is too true!" he said, and dropped his hand again swiftly to +his side. + +"I will go and summon Dessauer myself," she went on. "I will run so +quick. I cannot bear to wait." + +"Abide ye--abide ye, my daughter," said Father Clement; "let us do even +this folly decently and in order. The day is far spent. Let us wait till +darkness comes. Then when you are rested--and" (he looked towards the +Sparhawk) "the Lady Joan also--I will return with High Councillor +Dessauer, who, without observance or suspicion, may pay his respects to +the Princesses upon their arrival." + +"But, Father, I cannot wait," cried the impetuous bride. "Something +might happen long before then. My brother might come. Prince Wasp might +find out. The Palace itself might fall--and then I should never be +married at all!" + +And the very impulsive and high-strung daughter of the reigning house of +Courtland put a kerchief to her eyes and tapped the floor with the +silken point of her slipper. + +The holy Father looked at her a moment and turned his eyes to Maurice +von Lynar. Then he shook his head gravely at that proximate bridegroom +as one who would say, "If you be neither hanged nor yet burnt here in +Courtland--if you get safely out of this with your bride--why, then, +Heaven have mercy on your soul!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A WEDDING WITHOUT A BRIDEGROOM + + +It was very quiet in the river parlour of the Summer Palace. A shaded +lamp burned in its niche over the desk of Prince Conrad. Another swung +from the ceiling and filled the whole room with dim, rich light. The +window was a little open, and the Alla murmured beneath with a soothing +sound, like a mother hushing a child to sleep. There was no one in the +great chamber save the youth whose masquerading was now well nigh over. +The Sparhawk listened intently. Footsteps were approaching. Quick as +thought he threw himself upon a couch, and drew about him a light cloak +or woollen cloth lined with silk. The footsteps stopped at his door. A +hand knocked lightly. The Sparhawk did not answer. There was a long +pause, and then footsteps retreated as they had come. The Sparhawk +remained motionless. Again the Alla, outside in the mild autumnal +gloaming, said, "Hush!" + +Tired with anxiety and the strain of the day, the youth passed from +musing to real sleep and the stream of unconsciousness, with a long +soothing swirl like that of the green water outside among the piles of +the Summer Palace, bore him away. He took longer breaths, sighing in his +slumbers like a happy tired child. + +Again there came footsteps, quicker and lighter this time; then the +crisp rustle of silken skirts, a warm breath of scented air, and the +door was closed again. No knocking this time. It was some one who +entered as of right. + +Then the Princess Margaret, with clasped hands and parted lips, stood +still and watched the slumber of the man she loved. Though she knew it +not, it was one of the crucial moments in the chronicle of love. If a +woman's heart melts from tolerant friendship to a kind of motherhood at +the sight of a man asleep; if something draws tight about her heart like +the strings of an old-fashioned purse; if there is a pulse beating where +no pulse should be, a pleasurable lump in the throat, then it is +come--the not-to-be-denied, the long-expected, the inevitable. It is a +simple test, and one not always to be applied (as it were) without a +doctor's prescription; but, when fairly tried, it is infallible. If a +woman is happier listening to a man's quiet breathing than she has ever +been hearkening to any other's flattery, it is no longer an affair--it +is a passion. + +The Princess Margaret sat down by the couch of Maurice von Lynar, and, +after this manner of which I have told, her heart was moved within her. +As she bent a little over the youth and looked into his sleeping face, +the likeness to Joan the Duchess came out more strongly than ever, +emerging almost startlingly, as a race stamp stands out on the features +of the dead. She bent her head still nearer the slightly parted lips. +Then she drew back. + +"No," she murmured, smiling at her intent, "I will not--at least, not +now. I will wait till I hear them coming." + +She stole her hand under the cloak which covered the sleeper till her +cool fingers rested on Maurice's hand. He stirred a little, and his lips +moved. Then his eyelids quivered to the lifting. But they did not rise. +The ear of the Princess was very near them now. + +"Margaret!" she heard him say, and as the low whisper reached her she +sat erect in her chair with a happy sigh. So wonderful is love and so +utterly indifferent to time or place, to circumstance or reason. + +[Illustration: "Maurice stood ... holding Margaret's hand." +[_Page 219_]] + +The Alla also sighed a sigh to think that their hour would pass so +swiftly. So Margaret of Courtland, princess and lover, sat contentedly +by the pillow of him who had once been a prisoner in the dungeon of +Castle Kernsberg. + +But in the palace of the Prince of Courtland time ran even more swiftly +than the Alla beneath its walls. + +Margaret caught a faint sound far away--footsteps, firm footfalls of men +who paced slowly together. And as these came nearer, she could +distinguish, mixed with them, the sharp tapping of one who leans upon a +staff. She did not hesitate a moment now. She bent down upon the +sleeper. Her arm glided under his neck. Her lips met his. + +"Maurice," she whispered, "wake, dearest. They are coming." + +"Margaret!" he would have answered--but could not. + + * * * * * + +The greetings were soon over. The tale had already been told to Von +Dessauer by Father Clement. The pair stood up under the golden glow of +the swinging silver lamps. It was a strange scene. For surely never was +marriage more wonderfully celebrated on earth than this of two fair +maidens (for so they still appeared) taking hands at the bidding of +God's priest and vowing the solemn vows, in the presence of a prince's +chancellor, to live only for each other in all the world. + +Maurice, tall and dark, a red mantle thrown back from his shoulders, +confined at the waist and falling again to the feet, stood holding +Margaret's hand, while she, younger and slighter, her skin creamily +white, her cheek rose-flushed, her eyes brilliant as with fever, watched +Father Clement as if she feared he would omit some essential of the +service. + +Von Dessauer, High Councillor of Plassenburg, stood leaning on the head +of his staff and watching with a certain gravity of sympathy, mixed with +apprehension, the simple ceremonial. + +Presently the solemn "Let no man put asunder" was said, the blessing +pronounced, and Leopold von Dessauer came forward with his usual courtly +grace to salute the newly made Countess von Löen. + +He would have kissed her hand, but with a swift gesture she offered her +cheek. + +"Not hands to-day, good friend," she said. "I am no more a princess, but +my husband's wife. They cannot part us now, can they, High Councillor? I +have gotten my wish!" + +"Dear lady," the Chancellor of Plassenburg answered gently. "I am an old +man, and I have observed that Hymen is the most tricksome of the +divinities. His omens go mostly by contraries. Where much is expected, +little is obtained. When all men speak well of a wedding, and all the +prophets prophesy smooth things--my fear is great. Therefore be of good +cheer. Though you have chosen the rough road, the perilous venture, the +dark night, the deep and untried ford, you will yet come out upon a +plain of gladness, into a day of sunshine, and at the eventide reach a +home of content." + +"So good a fortune from so wise a soothsayer deserves--this!" + +And she kissed the Chancellor frankly on the mouth. + +"Father Clement," she said, turning about to the priest with a +provocative look on her face, "have you a prophecy for us worthy a like +guerdon?" + +"Avaunt, witch! Get thee behind me, pretty impling! Tempt not an old man +to forget his office, or I will set thee such a penance as will take +months to perform." + +Nevertheless his face softened as he spoke. He saw too plainly the +perils which encompassed Maurice von Lynar and his wife. Yet he held out +his hand benignantly and they sank on their knees. + +"God bring you well through, beloveds!" he said. "May He send His angels +to succour the faithful and punish the guilty!" + +"I bid you fair good-night!" said Leopold von Dessauer at the +threshold. But he added in his heart, "But alas for the to-morrow that +must come to you twain!" + +"I care for nothing now--I have gotten my will!" said the Princess +Margaret, nodding her head to the Father as he went out. + +She was standing on the threshold with her husband's hand in hers, and +her eyes were full of that which no words can express. + +"May that which is so sweet in the mouth now, never prove bitter in the +belly!" + +That was the Father's last prayer for them. + +But neither Margaret nor Maurice von Lynar so much as heard him, for +they had turned to one another. + +For the golden lamp was burning itself out, and without in the dark the +Alla still said, "Hush!" like a mother who soothes her children to +sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +LITTLE JOHANNES RODE + + +"But this one day, beloved," the Sparhawk was saying. "What is one day +among our enemies? Be brave, and then we will ride away together under +cloud of night. Von Dessauer will help us. For love and pity Prince Hugo +of Plassenburg will give us an asylum. Or if he will not, by my faith! +Helene the Princess will--or her kind heart is sore belied! Fear not!" + +"I am not afraid--I have never feared anything in my life," answered the +Princess Margaret. "But now I fear for you, Maurice. I would give all I +possess a hundred times over--nay, ten years of my life--if only you +were safe out of this Courtland!" + +"It will not be long," said the Sparhawk soothingly. "To-morrow Von +Dessauer goes with all his train. He cannot, indeed, openly give us his +protection till we are past the boundaries of the State. But at the +Fords of the Alla we must await him. Then, after that, it is but a short +and safe journey. A few days will bring us to the borderlands of +Plassenburg and the Mark, where we are safe alike from prince brother +and prince wooer." + +"Maurice--I would it were so, indeed. Do you know I think being married +makes one's soul frightened. The one you love grows so terrifyingly +precious. It seems such a long time since I was a wild and reckless +girl, flouting those who spoke of love, and boasting (oh, so vainly!) +that love would never touch me. I used to, not so long ago--though you +would not think it now, knowing how weak and foolish I am." + +The Sparhawk laughed a little and glanced fondly at his wife. It was a +strange look, full of the peculiar joy of man--and that, where the +essence of love dwells in him, is his sense of unique possession. + +"Do keep still," said the Princess suddenly, stamping her foot. "How can +I finish the arraying of your locks, if you twist about thus in your +seat? It is fortunate for you, sir, that the Duchess Joan wears her hair +short, like a Northman or a bantling troubadour. Otherwise you could not +have gone masquerading till yours had grown to be something of this +length." + +And, with the innocent vanity of a woman preferred, she shook her own +head backward till the rich golden tresses, each hair distinct and crisp +as a golden wire of infinite thinness, fell over her back and hung down +as low as the hollows of her knees. + +"Joan could not do that!" she cried triumphantly. + +"You are the most beautiful woman in the world," said the Sparhawk, with +appreciative reverence, trying to rise from the low stool in front of +the Venice mirror upon which he was submitting to having his toilet +superintended--for the first time by a thoroughly competent person. + +The Princess Margaret bit her lip vixenishly in a pretty way she had +when making a pretext of being angry, at the same time sticking the +little curved golden comb she was using upon his raven locks viciously +into his head. + +"Oh, you hurt!" he cried, making a grimace and pretending in his turn. + +"And so I will, and much worse," she retorted, "if you do not be still +and do as I bid you. How can a self-respecting tire-woman attend to her +business under such circumstances? I warn you that you may engage a new +maid." + +"Wickedest one!" he murmured, gazing fondly up at Margaret, "there is no +one like you!" + +"Well," she drolled, "I am glad of your opinion, though sorry for your +taste. For me, I prefer the Lady Joan." + +"And why?" + +"Because she is like you, of course!" + + * * * * * + +So, on the verge perilous, lightly and foolishly they jested as all +those who love each other do (which folly is the only wisdom), while the +green Alla sped swiftly on to the sea, and the city in which Death +waited for Maurice von Lynar began to hum about them. + +As yet, however, there fell no suspicion. For Margaret had warned her +bowermaidens that the Princess Joan would need no assistance from them. +Her own waiting-women were on their way from Castle Kernsberg. In any +case she, Margaret of Courtland, would help her sister in person, as +well for love as because such service was the guest's right. + +And the Courtland maidens, accustomed to the whims and sudden likings of +their impetuous mistress, glad also to escape extra duty, hastened their +task of arraying Margaret. Never had she been so restless and exacting. +Her toilet was not half finished when she rose from her ebony stool, +told her favourite Thora of Bornholm that she was too ignorant to be +trusted to array so much as the tow-head of a Swedish puppet, endued +herself without assistance with a long loose gown of velvet lined with +pale blue silk, and flashed out again to revisit her sister-in-law. + +"And do you, Thora, and the others, wait my pleasure in the anteroom," +she commanded her handmaidens as she swept through the doorway. "Go +barter love-compliments with the men-at-arms. It is all such fumblers +are good for!" + +Behind her back the tiring maids shrugged shoulders and glanced at each +other secretly with lifted eyebrow, as they put gowns and broidered +slippers back in their places, to signify that if it began thus they +were in for a day of it. Nevertheless they obeyed, and, finding certain +young gentlemen of Prince Louis's guard waiting for just such an +opportunity without, Thora and the others proceeded to carry out to the +letter the second part of the instructions of their mistress. + +"How now, sweet Thora of the Flaxen Locks?" cried Justus of Grätz, a +slender young man who carried the Prince's bannerstaff on saints' days, +and practised fencing and the art of love professionally at other times; +"has the Princess boxed all your ears this morning, that you come +trembling forth, pell-mell, like a flock of geese out of a barn when the +farmer's dog is after them?" + +There were three under-officers of the guard in the little courtyard. +Slim Justus of Grätz, his friend and boon companion Seydelmann, a man of +fine presence and empty head, who on wet days could curl the wings of +his moustaches round his ears, and, sitting a little apart from these, +little Johannes Rode, the only very brave man of the three, a swordsman +and a poet, yet one who passed for a ninny and a greenhorn because he +chose mostly to be silent. Nevertheless, Thora of Bornholm preferred him +to all others in the palace. For the eyes of a woman are quick to +discern manhood--so long, that is, as she is not in love. After that, +God wot, there is no eyeless fish so blind in all the caverns of the +Hartz. + +With the Northwoman Thora in her tendance of the Princess there were +joined Anna and Martha Pappenheim, two maids quicker of speech and more +restless in demeanour--Franconians, like all their name, of their +persons little and lithe and gay. The Princess had brought them back +with her when at the last Diet she visited Ratisbon with her brother. + +"Ah, Thora, fairest of maids! Hath an east wind made you sulky this +morning, that you will not answer?" languished Justus. "Then I warrant +so are not Anna and Martha. My service to you, noble dames!" + +"Noble 'dames' indeed--and to us!" they answered in alternate jets of +speech. "As if we were apple-women or the fat house-frows of +Courtlandish burghers. Get away--you have no manners! You sop your wits +in sour beer. You eat frogs-meat out of your Baltic marshes. A dozen +dozen of you were not worth one lively lad out of sweet Franconia!" + +"Swe-e-et Franconia!" mocked Justus; "why, then, did you not stop there? +Of a verity no lover carried you off to Courtland across his saddle-bow, +that I warrant! He had repented his pains and killed his horse long ere +he smelt the Baltic brine." + +"The most that such louts as you Courtlanders could carry off would be a +screeching pullet from a farmyard, when the goodman is from home. There +is no spirit in the North--save, I grant, among the women. There is our +Princess and her new sister the Lady Joan of the Sword Hand. Where will +you see their match? Small wonder they will have nothing to say to such +men as they can find hereabouts! But how they love each other! 'Tis as +good as a love tale to see them----" + +"Aye, and a very miracle to boot!" interjected Thora of Bornholm. + +The Pappenheims, as before, went on antiphonally, each answering and +anticipating the other. + +"The Princesses need not any man to make them happy! Their affection for +each other is past telling," said Martha. + +"How their eyes shine when they look at each other!" sighed Anna, while +Thora said nothing for a little, but watched Johannes Rode keenly. She +saw he had something on his mind. The Northwoman was not of the opinion +which Anna Pappenheim attributed to the Princesses. For the fair-skinned +daughters of the Goth, being wise, hold that there is but one kind of +love, as there is but one kind of gold. Also they believe that they +carry with them the philosopher's stone wherewith to procure that fine +ore. After a while Thora spoke. + +"This morning it was 'The Princess needs not your help--I myself will be +her tire-woman!' I wot Margaret is as jealous of any other serving the +Lady Joan----" + +"As you would be if we made love to Johannes Rode there!" laughed Martha +Pappenheim, getting behind a pillar and peeping roguishly round in order +that the poet might have an opportunity of seeing the pretty turn of her +ankle. + +But little Johannes, who with a nail was scratching a line or two of a +catch on a smooth stone, hardly even smiled. He minded maids of honour, +their gabble and their ankles, no more than jackdaws crying in the +crevices of the gable--that is, all except Thora, who was so large and +fair and white that he could not get her quite out of his mind. But even +with Thora of Bornholm he did his best. + +"That is all very well _now_," put in vain Fritz Seydelmann, stroking +his handsome beard and smiling vacantly; "but wait till these same +Princesses have had husbands of their own for a year. Then they will +spit at each other and scratch--like cats. All women are cats, and maids +of honour the worst of all!" + +"How so, Sir Wiseman--because they do not like puppies? You have found +out that?" Anna Pappenheim struck back demurely. + +"You ask me why maids of honour are like cats," returned Seydelmann +complacently (he had been making up this speech all night). "Do they not +arch their backs when they are stroked? Do they not purr? Have you not +seen them lie about the house all day, doing nothing and looking as +saintly as so many abbots at High Mass? But at night and on the +tiles--phew! 'tis another matter then." + +And having thus said vain moustached Seydelmann, who plumed himself upon +his wit, dragged at his moustache horns and simpered bovinely down upon +the girls. + +Anna Pappenheim turned to Thora, who was looking steadily through the +self-satisfied Fritz, much as if she could see a spider crawling on the +wall behind him. + +"Do they let things like that run about loose here in Courtland?" she +asked, with some anxiety on her face. "We have sties built for them at +home in Franconia!" + +But Thora was in no mood for the rough jesting of officers-in-waiting +and princesses' tirewomen. She continued to watch the spider. + +Then little Johannes Rode spoke for the first time. + +"I wager," he said slowly, "that the Princesses will be less inseparable +by this time to-morrow." + +"What do you mean, Johannes Rode?" said Thora, with instant challenge in +her voice, turning the wide-eyed directness of her gaze full upon him. + +The young man did not look at her. He merely continued the carving of +his couplet upon the lower stone of the sundial, whistling the air as he +did so. + +"Well," he answered slowly, "the Muscovite guard of Prince Ivan have +packed their own baggage (together with a good deal that is not their +own), and the minster priests are warned to hold themselves at the +Prince's bidding all day. That means a wedding, and I warrant you our +noble Louis does not mean to marry his Princess all over again in the +Dom-Kirch of Courtland. They are going to marry the Russ to our Princess +Margaret!" + +Blonde Fritz laughed loud and long and tugged at his moustache. + +"Out, you fool!" he cried; "this is a saint's day! I saw it in the +chaplain's Breviary. The Prince goes to shrive himself, and right wisely +he judges. I would not only confess, but receive extreme unction as +well, before I attempted to come nigh Joan of the Sword Hand in the way +of love! What say you, Justus?" + +But before his companion could reply, Thora of Bornholm had risen and +stolen quietly within. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +A PERILOUS HONEYMOON + + +Never was day so largely and gloriously blue since Courtland was a city +as the first morning of the married life of Maurice and Margaret von +Lynar, Count and Countess von Löen. The summer floods had subsided, and +the tawny dye had gone clean out of the Alla, which was now as clear as +aquamarine, and laved rather than fretted the dark green piles of the +Summer Palace. + +The Princesses (so they said without) were more than ever inseparable. +They were constantly talking confidentially together, for all the world +like schoolgirls with a secret. Doubtless Prince Louis's fair sister was +persuading the unruly wife to return to her duty. Doubtless it was +so--ah, yes, doubtless! + +"Better that Prince Louis should do his own embassage in such a matter +in his proper person," said the good-wives of Thorn. "For me, I would +not listen to any sister if my man came not to my feet himself. The Lady +Joan is in the right of it--a feckless lover, no true man!" + +"Aye," said the men, agreeing for once, "a paper-backed princeling! God +wot, were it our Conrad we should soon hear other of it! There would be +none of this shilly-shallying back-and-forth work then! We would give +half a year's income in golden gulden for a good lusty heir to the +Principalities--with that foul Muscovite Ivan yearning to lay the knout +across our backs!" + +"There is something toward to-day," said a decent widow woman who lived +in the Königstrasse to her neighbour. "My son, who as you know is a +chorister, is gone to practise the Wedding Hymn in the cathedral. I am +going thither to get a good place. I will not miss it, whatever it is. +Perhaps they are going to make the Princess Joan do penance for her +fault, in a white sheet with a candle in her hand a yard long! That +would be rare sport. I would not miss it for so much as four farthings!" + +And with that the chorister's mother hobbled off, telling everybody she +met the same story. And so in half an hour the news had spread all over +the city, and there began to be the makings of quite a respectable crowd +in the Dom Platz of Courtland. + +It was half-past eleven when the archers of the guard appeared at the +entrance of the square which leads from the palace. Behind them, rank +upon rank, could be seen the lances of the wild Cossacks of Prince +Ivan's escort who had remained behind when the Muscovite army went back +to the Russian plains. Their dusky goat-hair tents, which had long +covered the banks of the Alla, had now been struck and were laded upon +baggage-horses and sumpter mules. + +"The Prince of Muscovy delays only for the ceremony, whatever it may +be!" the people said, admiring at their own prevision. + +And the better sort added privately, "We shall be well rid of him!" But +the baser grieved for the loss of the largesse which he scattered abroad +in good Muscovite silver, unclipped and unalloyed, with the +mint-master's hammer-stroke clean and clear to the margin. For with such +Prince Ivan knew how to make himself beloved, holding man's honour and +woman's love at the price of so few and so many gold pieces, and +thinking well or ill of them according to their own valuation. The +rabble of Courtland, whose price was only silver, he counted as no +better than the trodden dirt of the highway. + +Meanwhile, in the river parlour of the Summer Palace, the two Princesses +were talking together even as the people had said. The Princess +Margaret sat on a low stool, leaning her elbow on her companion's knee +and gazing up at him. And though she sometimes looked away, it was not +for long, and Maurice, meeting her ever-recurrent regard, found that a +new thing had come into her eyes. + +Presently a low tapping was heard at the inner door, from which a +passage communicated with the rooms of the Princess Margaret. The +Sparhawk would have risen, for the moment forgetful of his disguise, but +with a slight pressure of her arm upon his knee the Princess restrained +him. + +"Enter!" she called aloud in her clear imperious voice. + +Thora entered hurriedly, and, closing the door behind her, she stood +with the latch in her hand. "My Princess," she said in a voice that was +little more than a whisper, "I have heard ill news. They are making the +cathedral ready for a wedding. The Cossacks have struck their tents. I +think a plot is on foot to marry you this day to Prince Ivan, and to +carry you off with him to Moscow." + +The Sparhawk sprang to his feet and laid his hand on the place where his +sword-hilt should have been. + +"Never," he cried; "it is impossible! The Princess is----" + +He was about to add, "She is married already," but with a quick gesture +of warning Margaret stopped him. + +"Who told you this?" she queried, turning again to Thora of Bornholm. + +"Johannes Rode of the Prince's guard told me a moment ago," she +answered. "He has just returned from the Muscovite camp." + +"I thank you, Thora--I shall not forget this faithfulness," said +Margaret. "Now you have my leave to go!" The Princess spoke calmly, and +to the ear even a little coldly. + +The door closed upon the Swedish maiden. Margaret and Maurice turned to +each other with one pregnant instinct and took hands. + +"Already!" said Margaret faintly, going back into the woman; "they might +have left us alone a little longer. How shall we meet this? What shall +we do? I had counted on this one day." + +"Margaret," answered the Sparhawk impulsively, "this shall not daunt us. +We would have told your brother Louis one day. We will tell him now. +Duchess Joan is safe out of his reach, Kernsberg is revictualled, the +Muscovite army returned. There is no need to keep up the masquerade any +longer. Whatever may come of it, let us go to your brother. That will +end it swiftly, at all events." + +The Princess put away his restraining clasp and came closer to him. + +"No--no," she cried: "you must not. You do not know my brother. He is +wholly under the influence of Ivan of Muscovy. Louis would slay you for +having cheated him of his bride--Ivan for having forestalled him with +me." + +"But you cannot marry Ivan. That were an outrage against the laws of God +and man!" + +"Marry Ivan!" she cried, to the full as impulsively as her lover; "not +though they set ravens to pick the live flesh off my bones! But it is +the thought of torture and death for you--that I cannot abide. We must +continue to deceive them. Let me think!--let me think!" + +Hastily she barred the door which led out upon the corridor. Then taking +Maurice's hand once more she led him over to the window, from which she +could see the green Alla cutting its way through the city bounds and +presently escaping into the yet greener corn lands on its way to the +sea. + +"It is for this one day's delay that we must plan. To-night we will +certainly escape. I can trust certain of those of my household. I have +tried them before.... I have it. Maurice, you must be taken ill--lie +down on this couch away from the light. There is a rumour of the Black +Death in the city--we must build on that. They say an Astrakhan trader +is dead of it already. For one day we may stave it off with this. It is +the poor best we can do. Lie down, I will call Thora. She is staunch and +fully to be trusted." + +The Princess Margaret went to the inner door and clapped her hands +sharply. + +The fair-haired Swedish maiden came running to her. She had been waiting +for such a signal. + +"Thora," said her mistress in a quick whisper, "we must put off this +marriage. I would sooner die than marry Ivan. You have that drug you +spoke of--that which gives the appearance of sickness unto death without +the reality. The Lady Joan must be ill, very ill. You understand, we +must deceive even the Prince's physicians." + +The girl nodded with quick understanding, and, turning, she sped away up +the inner stair to her own sleeping-chamber, the key of which (as was +the custom in Courtland) she carried in her pocket. + +"This will keep you from being suspected--as in public places you would +have been," whispered Margaret to her young husband. "What Thora thinks +or knows does not matter. I can trust Thora with my life--nay, what is +far more, with yours." + +A light tap and the girl re-entered, a tall phial in her hand. With a +swift look at her mistress to obtain permission, she went up to the +couch upon which the Sparhawk had lain down. Then with a deft hand she +opened the bottle, and pouring a little of a colourless liquid into a +cup she gave it him to drink. In a few minutes a sickly pallor slowly +overspread Maurice von Lynar's brow. His eyes appeared injected, the +lips paled to a grey white, beads of perspiration stood on the forehead, +and his whole countenance took on the hue and expression of mortal +sickness. + +"Now," said Thora, when she had finished, "will the noble lady deign to +swallow one of these pellicles, and in ten minutes not a leech in the +country will be able to pronounce that she is not suffering from a +dangerous disease." + +"You are sure, Thora," said the Princess Margaret almost fiercely, +laying her hand on her tirewoman's wrist, "that there is no harm in all +this? Remember, on your life be it!" + +The placid, flaxen-haired woman turned with the little silver box in her +hand. + +"Danger there is, dear mistress," she said softly, "but not, I think, so +great danger as we are already in. But I will prove my honesty----" + +She took first a little of the liquid, and immediately after swallowed +one of the white pellicles she had given Maurice. + +"It will be as well," she said, "when the Prince's wiseacre physicians +come, that they should find another sickening of the same disease." + +Thora of Bornholm passed about the couch and took up a waiting-maid's +station some way behind. + +"All is ready," she said softly. + +"We will forestall them," answered the Princess. "Thora, send and bid +Prince Louis come hither quickly." + +"And shall I also ask him to send hither his most skilled doctors of +healing?" added the girl. "I will despatch Johannes Rode. He will go +quickly and answer as I bid him with discretion--and without asking +questions." + +And with the noiseless tread peculiar to most blonde women of large +physique, Thora disappeared through the private door by which she had +entered. + +The Princess Margaret kneeled down by the couch and looked into the face +of the Sparhawk. Even she who had seen the wonder was amazed and almost +frightened by the ghastly effect the drug had wrought in such short +space. + +"You are sure that you do not feel any ill effects--you are perfectly +well?" she said, with tremulous anxiety in her voice. + +The Sparhawk smiled and nodded reassuringly up at her. + +"Never better," he said. "My nerves are iron, my muscles steel. I feel +as if, for my Margaret's sake, I could vanquish an army of Prince +Ivan's single-handed!" + +The Princess rose from her place and unlocked the main door. + +"We will be ready for them," she said. "All must appear as though we had +no motive for concealment." + +And, having drawn the curtains somewhat closer, she kneeled down again +by the couch. There was no sound in the room as the youthful husband and +wife thus waited their fate hand in hand, save only the soft continuous +sibilance of their whispered converse, and from without the deeper note +of the Alla sapping the Palace walls. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +THE BLACK DEATH + + +The Princes of Courtland and Muscovy, inseparable as the Princesses, +were on the pleasant creeper-shaded terrace which looks over the rose +garden of the palace of Courtland down upon the sea plain of the Baltic, +now stretching blue black from verge to verge under the imminent sun of +noon. + +Prince Louis moved restlessly to and fro, now biting his lip, now +frowning and fumbling with his sword-hilt, and anon half drawing his +jewelled dagger from its sheath and allowing it to slip back again with +the faintly musical click of perfectly fitting steel. Ivan of Muscovy, +on the other hand, lounged listlessly in the angle of an embrasure, +alternately contemplating his red-pointed toes shod in Cordovan leather, +and glancing keenly from under his eyelids at his nervous companion as +often as his back was turned in the course of his ceaseless +perambulations. + +"You would desert me, Ivan," Prince Louis was saying in a tone at once +appealing and childishly aggressive: "you would leave me in the hour of +my need. You would take away from me my sister Margaret, who alone has +influence with the Princess, my wife!" + +"But you do not try to court the lady with any proper fervour," objected +Ivan, half humouring and half irritating his companion; "you observe +none of the rules. Speak her soft, praise her eyelashes--surely they are +worthy of all praise; give her a pet lamb for a playmate. Feed her with +conserves of honey and spice. Surely such comfits would mollify even +Joan of the Sword Hand!" + +"Tush!--you flout me, Ivan--even you. Every one despises me since--since +she flouted me. The woman is a tigress, I tell you. Every time she looks +at me her eyes flick across me like a whip-lash!" + +"That is but her maiden modesty. How often is it assumed to cover love!" +murmured Ivan, demurely smiling at his shoe point, which nodded +automatically before him. "So doth the glance of my sweet bride of +to-day, your own sister Margaret. To all seeming she loves me as little +as the Lady Joan does you. Yet I am not afraid. I know women. Before I +have her a month in Moscow she will run that she may be allowed to pull +my shoes off and on. She will be out of breath with hasting to fetch my +slippers--together with other little domestic offices of that sort, all +very profitable for women's souls to perform. Take pattern by me, Louis, +and teach the tigress to bring your shoes and tie your hose points. In a +little while she will like it and hold up her cheek to be kissed for a +sufficient reward." + +At this point an officer came swiftly across the parterre and stood with +uncovered head by the steps of the terrace, waiting permission to +ascend. The Prince summoned him with a movement of his hand. + +"What news?" he said; "have the ladies yet left the Summer Palace?" + +"No, my lord," answered the officer earnestly; "but Johannes Rode of the +Princess Margaret's household has come with a message that the plague +has broken out there, and that the Lady Princess is the first stricken!" + +"Which Princess?" demanded Ivan, with an instant incision of tone. + +"The Lady Joan, Princess of Courtland, your Highness," replied the man, +without, however, looking at the Prince of Muscovy. + +"The Lady Joan?" cried the Prince Louis. "She is ill? She has brought +the Black Death with her from Kernsberg! She is stricken with the +plague? How fortunate that, so far, I----" + +He clapped his hand upon his brow and shut his eyes as if giving thanks. + +"I see it all now!" he cried. "This is the reason the Kernsberg traitors +were so willing to give her up. It is all a plot against my life. I will +not go near. Let the court physicians be sent! Cause the doors of the +Summer Palace to be sealed! Set double guards! Permit none to pass +either way, save the doctors only! And let them change their clothes and +perfume themselves with the smoke of sulphur before they come out!" + +His voice mounted higher and higher as he spoke, and Ivan of Muscovy +watched him without speaking, as with hands thrust out and distended +nostrils he screamed and gesticulated. + +Prince Ivan had never seen a thorough coward before, and the breed +interested him. But when he had let the Prince run on far enough to +shame him before his own officer, he rose quietly and stood in front of +him. + +"Louis," he said, in a low voice, "listen to me--this is but a report. +It is like enough to be false; it is certain to be exaggerated. Let us +go at once and find out." + +Prince Louis threw out his hands with a gesture of despair. + +"Not I--not I!" he cried. "You may go if you like, if you do not value +your life. But I--I do not feel well even now. Yesterday I kissed her +hand. Ah, would to God that I had not! That is it. I wondered what ailed +me this morning. Go--stop the court physicians! Do not let them go to +the Summer Palace; bring them here to me first. Your arm, officer; I +think I will go to my room--I am not well." + +Prince Ivan's countenance grew mottled and greyish, and his teeth showed +in the sun like a thin line of dazzling white. He grasped the poltroon +by the wrist with a hand of steel. + +"Listen," he said--"no more of this; I will not have it! I will not +waste my own time and the blood of my father's soldiers for naught. This +is but some woman's trick to delay the marriage--I know it. Hearken! I +fear neither Black Death nor black devil; I will have the Lady Margaret +to-day if I have to wed her on her death-bed! Now, I cannot enter your +wife's chamber alone. Yet go I must, if only to see what all this means, +and you shall accompany me. Do you hear, Prince Louis? I swear you shall +go with me to the Summer Palace if I have to drag you there step by +step!" + +His grasp lay like a tightening circle of iron about the wrist of Prince +Louis; his steady glance dominated the weaker man. Louis drew in his +breath with a choking noise. + +"I will," he gasped; "if it must--I will go. But the Death--the Black +Death! I am sick--truly, Ivan, I am very sick!" + +"So am I!" said Prince Ivan, smiling grimly. "But bring his Highness a +cup of wine, and send hither Alexis the Deacon, my own physician." + +The officer went out cursing the Muscovite ears that had listened to +such things, and also high Heaven for giving such a Prince to his true +German fatherland. + + * * * * * + +Prince Ivan and Prince Louis stood at the door of the river parlour. The +peculiar moving hush and tepidly stagnant air of a sick-room penetrated +even through the panels. Ivan still kept hold of his friend, but now by +the hand, not compulsively, but rather like one who in time of trouble +comforts another's sorrow. + +At either end of the corridor could be seen a guard of Cossacks keeping +it against all intrusion from without or exodus from within. So Prince +Ivan had ordered it. His fellows were used to the plague, he said. + +At the Princess's door Prince Ivan tapped gently and inclined his ear to +listen. Louis fumbled with his golden crucifix, and as the Muscovite +turned away his head he pressed it furtively to his lips. Ever since he +set foot in the Summer Palace he had been muttering the prayers of the +Church in a rapid undertone. + +"The Prince Louis to see the Princess Joan!" Ivan answered the +low-voiced challenge from within. The door opened slightly and then more +widely. Ivan pushed his friend forward and they entered, Louis dragging +one foot after the other towards the shaded couch by which knelt the +Princess Margaret. Thora of Bornholm, pallid and blue-lipped, stood +beside her, swaying a little, but still holding, half unconsciously, as +it seemed, a silver basin, into which Margaret dipped a fine linen +cloth, before touching with it the foam-flecked lips of the sufferer. +Prince Ivan remained a little back, near to where the court physicians +were conferring together in stage whispers. As he passed, a tall +grey-skirted long-bearded man, girt about the middle with a silver +chain, detached himself from the official group and approached Prince +Ivan. After an instinctive cringing movement of homage and salutation, +he bent to the young man's ear and whispered half a dozen words. Prince +Ivan nodded very slightly and the man stole away as he had come. No one +in the room had noticed the incident. + +Meanwhile Louis of Courtland, almost as pale as Thora herself, his lips +blue, his teeth chattering, his fingers clammy with perspiration, stood +by the bedside clutching the crucifix. Presently a hand was laid upon +his arm. He started violently at the touch. + +"It is true--a bad case," said Ivan in his ear. "Let us get away; I must +speak with you at once. The physicians have given their verdict. They +can do nothing!" + +With a gasp of relief Prince Louis faced about, and as he turned he +tottered. + +"Steady, friend Louis!" said Prince Ivan in his ear, and passed his arm +about his waist. + +He began to fear lest he should have frightened his dupe too thoroughly. + +"See how he loves her!" murmured the doctors of healing, still +conferring with their heads together. "Who would have believed it +possible?" + +"Nay, he is only much afraid," said Alexis the Deacon, the Muscovite +doctor; "and small blame to him, now that the Black Death has come to +Courtland. In half an hour we shall hear the death-rattle!" + +"Then there is no need of us staying," said more than one learned +doctor, and they moved softly towards the door. But Ivan had possessed +himself of the key, and even as the hand of the first was on the latchet +bar the bolt was shot in his face. And the eyes of Alexis the Deacon +glowed between his narrow red lids like sparks in tinder as he glanced +at the whitening faces of the learned men of Courtland. + +Without the door Ivan fixed Prince Louis with his will. + +"Now," he said, speaking in low trenchant tones, "if this be indeed the +Black Death (and it is like it), there is no safety for us here. We must +get without the walls. In an hour there will be such a panic in the city +as has not been for centuries. I offer you a way of escape. My Cossacks +stand horsed and ready without. Let us go with them. But the Princess +Margaret must come also!" + +"She cannot--she cannot. I will not permit it. She may already be +infected!" gasped Prince Louis. + +"There is no infection till the crisis of the disease is passed," said +Prince Ivan firmly. "We have had many plagues in Holy Russia, and know +the symptoms." + +("Indeed," he added to himself, "my physician, Alexis the Deacon, can +produce them!") + +"But--but--but----" Louis still objected, "the Princess Joan--she may +die. It will reflect upon my honour if we all desert her. My sister must +continue to attend her. They are friends. I will go with you.... +Margaret can remain and nurse her!" + +A light like a spear point glittered momentarily under the dark brows of +the Muscovite. + +"Listen, Prince Louis," he said. "Your honour is your honour. Joan of +the Sword Hand and her Black Plagues are your own affair. She is your +wife, not mine. I have helped you to get her back--no more. But the +Princess Margaret is my business. I have bought her with a price. And +look you, sir, I will not ride back to Russia empty-handed, that every +petty boyar and starveling serf may scoff at me, saying, 'He helped the +Prince of Courtland to win his wife, but he could not bring back one +himself.' The whole city, the whole country from here to Moscow know for +what cause I have so long sojourned in your capital. No, Prince Louis, +will you have me go as your friend or as your enemy?" + +"Ivan--Ivan, you are my friend. Do not speak to me so! Who else is my +friend if you desert me?" + +"Then give me your sister!" + +The Prince cast up his hand with a little gesture of despair. + +"Ah," he sighed, "you do not know Margaret! She is not in my gift, or +you should have had her long ago! Oh, these troubles, these troubles! +When will they be at an end?" + +"They are at an end now," said Prince Ivan consolingly. "Call your +sister out of the chamber on a pretext. In ten minutes we shall be at +the cathedral gates. In another ten she and I can be wedded according to +your Roman custom. In half an hour we shall all be outside the walls. If +you fear the infection you need not once come near her. I will do all +that is necessary. And what more natural? We will be gone before the +panic breaks--you to one of your hill castles--if you do not wish to +come with us to Moscow." + +"And the Princess Joan----?" faltered the coward. + +"She is in good hands," said the Prince, truthfully for once. "I pledge +you my word of honour she is in no danger. Call your sister!" + +Even as he spoke he tapped lightly, turned the key in the lock and +whispered, "Now!" to the Prince of Courtland. + +"Tell the Princess Margaret I would speak with her!" said Prince Louis. +"For a moment only!" he added, fearing that otherwise she might not +come. + +There was a stir in the sick chamber and then quick steps were heard +coming lightly across the floor. The face of the Princess appeared at +the door. + +"Well?" she said haughtily to her brother. Prince Ivan she did not see, +for he had stepped back into the dusk of the corridor. Louis beckoned +his sister without. + +"I must speak a word with you," he said. "I would not have these fellows +hear us!" She stepped out unsuspectingly. Instantly the door was closed +behind her. A dark figure slid between. Prince Ivan turned the key and +laid his hand upon her arm. + +"Help!" she cried, struggling; "help me! For God's grace, let me go!" + +But from behind came four Cossacks of the Prince's retinue who +half-carried, half-forced her along towards the gates at which the +Muscovite horses stood ready saddled. And as Margaret was carried down +the passage the alarmed servitors stood aloof from her cries, seeing +that Prince Louis himself was with her. Yet she cried out unceasingly in +her anger and fear, "To me, men of Courtland! The Cossacks carry me +off--I will not go! O God, that Conrad were here! I will not be silent! +Maurice, save me!" + +But the people only shrugged their shoulders even when they heard--as +did also the guards and the gentlemen-in-waiting, the underlings and the +very porters at the Palace gates. For they said, "They are strange folk, +these Courtland princes and princesses of ours, with their marriages and +givings in marriage. They can neither wed nor bed like other people, but +must make all this fuss about it. Well--happily it is no business of +ours!" + +Then at the stair foot she sank suddenly down by the sundial, almost +fainting with the sudden alarm and fear, crying for the last time and +yet more piercingly, "Maurice! Maurice! Come to me, Maurice!" Then above +them in the Palace there began a mighty clamour, the noise of blows +stricken and the roar of many voices. But Ivan of Muscovy was neither to +be hurried nor flurried. Impassive and determined, he swung himself +into the saddle. His black charger changed his feet to take his weight +and looked about to welcome him--for he, too, knew his master. + +"Give the Princess to me," he commanded. "Now assist Prince Louis into +his saddle. To the cathedral, all of you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE DROPPING OF A CLOAK + + +And so, with the mounted guard of his own Cossacks before him and +behind, Prince Ivan carried his bride to church through the streets of +her native city. And the folk thronged and marvelled at this new custom +of marrying. But none interfered by word or sign, and the obsequious +rabble shouted, "Long live Prince Ivan!" + +Even some of the better disposed, who had no liking for the Muscovite +alliance, said within their hearts, looking at the calm set face of the +Prince, "He is a man! Would to God that our own Prince were more like +him!" + +Also many women nodded their heads and ran to find their dearest +gossips. "You will see," they said, "this one will have no ridings away. +He takes his wife before him upon his saddle-bow as a man should. And +she will pretend that she does not like it. But secretly--ah, we know!" + +And they smiled at each other. For there is that in most women which +will never be civilised. They love not men who walk softly, and still in +their heart of hearts they prefer to be wooed by the primitive method of +capture. For if a woman be not afraid of a man she will never love him +truly. And that is a true word among all peoples. + +So they came at last to the Dom and the groups of wondering folks, +thinly scattered here and there--women mostly. For there had been such +long delay at the Summer Palace that the men had gone back to their +shavings and cooperage tubs or were quaffing tankards in the city +ale-cellars. + +The great doors of the cathedral had been thrown wide open and the +leathern curtains withdrawn. The sun was checkering the vast tesselated +pavement with blurs of purple and red and glorious blue shot through the +western window of the nave. In gloomy chapel and recessed nook marble +princes and battered Crusaders of the line of Courtland seemed to blink +and turn their faces to the wall away from the unaccustomed glare. The +altar candles and the lamps a-swing in the choir winked no brighter than +yellow willow leaves seen through an autumnal fog. But as the _cortège_ +dismounted the organ began to roll, and the people within rose with a +hush like that which follows the opening of a window at night above the +Alla. + +The sonorous diapason of the great instrument disgorged itself through +the doorway in wave upon wave of sound. The Princess Margaret found +herself again on her feet, upheld on either side by brother and lover. +She was at first somewhat dazed with the rush of accumulate disasters. +Slowly her mind came back. The Dom Platz whirled more slowly about her. +With a fresh-dawning surprise she heard the choir sing within. She began +to understand the speech of men. The great black square of the open +doorway slowed and finally stopped before her. She was on the steps of +the cathedral. What had come to her? Was it the Duchess Joan's wedding +day? Surely no! Then what was the matter? Had she fainted? + +Maurice--where was Maurice? She turned about. The small glittering eyes +of Prince Ivan, black as sloes, were looking into hers. She remembered +now. It was her own wedding. These two, her brother and her enemy, were +carrying out their threat. They had brought her to the cathedral to wed +her, against her will, to the man she hated. But they could not. She +would tell them. Already she was a--but then, if she told them that, +they would ride back and kill him. Better that she should perjure +herself, condemn herself to hell, than that. Better anything than that. +But what was she to do? Was ever a poor girl so driven? + +And there, in the hour of her extremity, her eye fell upon a young man +in the crowd beneath, a youth in a 'prentice's blue jerkin. He was +passing his arm softly about a girl's waist--slily also, lest her mother +should see. And the maid, first starting with a pretence of not knowing +whence came the pressure, presently looked up and smiled at him, +nestling a moment closer to his shoulder before removing his hand, only +to hold it covertly under her apron till her mother showed signs of +turning round. + +"Ah! why was I born a princess?" moaned the poor driven girl. + +"Margaret, you must come with us into the cathedral." It was the voice +of her brother. "It is necessary that the Prince should wed you now. It +has too long been promised, and now he can delay no longer. Besides, the +Black Death is in the city, and this is the only hope of escape. Come!" + +It was on the tip of Margaret's tongue to cry out with wild words even +as she had done at the door at the river parlour. But the thought of +Maurice, of the torture and the death, silenced her. She lifted her +eyes, and there, at the top of the steps, were the dignitaries of the +cathedral waiting to lead the solemn procession. + +"I will go!" she said. + +And at her words the Prince Ivan smiled under his thin moustache. + +She laid her hand on her brother's arm and began the ascent of the long +flight of stairs. But even as she did so, behind her there broke a wave +of sound--the crying of many people, confused and multitudinous like the +warning which runs along a crowded thoroughfare when a wild charger +escaped from bonds threshes along with frantic flying harness. Then came +the clatter of horses' hoofs, the clang of doors shut in haste as decent +burghers got them in out of harm's way! And lo! at the foot of the +steps, clad from head to foot in a cloak, the sick Princess Joan, she +whom the Black Death had stricken, leaped from her foaming steed, and +drawing sword followed fiercely up the stairway after the marriage +procession. The Cossacks of the Muscovite guard looked at each other, +not knowing whether to stand in her way or no. + +"The Princess Joan!" they said from one to the other. + +"Joan of the Sword Hand!" whispered the burghers of Courtland. "The +disease has gone to her brain. Look at the madness in her eye!" + +And their lips parted a little as is the wont of those who, having come +to view a comedy, find themselves unexpectedly in the midst of high +tragedy. + +"Hold, there!" the pursuer shouted, as she set foot on the lowest step. + +"Lord! Surely that is no woman's voice!" whispered the people who stood +nearest, and their lower jaws dropped a little further in sheer +wonderment. + +The Princes turned on the threshold of the cathedral, with Margaret +still between them, the belly of the church black behind them, and the +processional priests first halting and then peering over each other's +shoulders in their eagerness to see. + +Up the wide steps of the Dom flew the tall woman in the flowing cloak. +Her face was pallid as death, but her eyes were brilliant and her lips +red. At the sight of the naked sword Prince Ivan plucked the blade from +his side and Louis shrank a little behind his sister. + +"Treason!" he faltered. "What is this? Is it sudden madness or the +frenzy of the Black Death?" + +"The Princess Margaret cannot be married!" cried the seeming Princess. +"To me, Margaret! I will slay the man who lays a hand on you!" + +Obedient to that word, Margaret of Courtland broke from between her +brother and Prince Ivan and ran to the tall woman, laying her brow on +her breast. The Prince of Muscovy continued calm and immovable. + +"And why?" he asked in a tone full of contempt. "Why cannot the Princess +Margaret be married?" + +"Because," said the woman in the long cloak, fingering a string at her +neck, "she is married already. _I am her husband!_" + +The long blue cloak fell to the ground, and the Sparhawk, clad in +close-fitting squire's dress, stood before their astonished eyes. + +A long low murmur, gathering and sinking, surged about the square. +Prince Louis gasped. Margaret clung to her lover's arm, and for the +space of a score of seconds the whole world stopped breathing. + +Prince Ivan twisted his moustache as if he would pull it out by the +roots. + +"So," he said, "the Princess is married, is she? And you are her +husband? 'Whom God hath joined'--and the rest of it. Well, we shall see, +we shall see!" + +He spoke gently, meditatively, almost caressingly. + +"Yes," cried the Sparhawk defiantly, "we were married yesterday by +Father Clement, the Prince's chaplain, in the presence of the most noble +Leopold von Dessauer, High Councillor of Plassenburg!" + +"And my wife--the Princess Joan, where is she?" gasped Prince Louis, so +greatly bewildered that he had not yet begun to be angry. + +Ivan of Muscovy put out his hand. + +"Gently, friend," he said; "I will unmask this play-acting springald. +This is not your wife, not the woman you wedded and fought for, not the +Lady Joan of Hohenstein, but some baseborn brother, who, having her +face, hath played her part, in order to mock and cheat and deceive us +both!" + +He turned again to Maurice von Lynar. + +"I think we have met before, Sir Masquer," he said with his usual suave +courtesy; "I have, therefore, a double debt to pay. Hither!" He beckoned +to the guards who lined the approaches. "I presume, sir, so true a +courtier will not brawl before ladies. You recognise that you are in our +power. Your sword, sir!" + +The Sparhawk looked all about the crowded square. Then he snapped his +sword over his knee and threw the pieces down on the stone steps. + +"You are right; I will not fight vainly here," he said. "I know well it +is useless. But"--he raised his voice--"be it known to all men that my +name is Maurice, Count von Löen, and that the Princess Margaret is my +lawfully wedded wife. She cannot then marry Ivan of Muscovy!" + +The Prince laughed easily and spread his hand with gentle deprecation, +as the guards seized the Sparhawk and forced him a little space away +from the clinging hands of the Princess. + +"I am an easy man," he said gently, as he clicked his dagger to and fro +in its sheath. "When I like a woman, I would as lief marry her widow as +maid!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE RETURN OF THE BRIDE + + +"Prince Louis," continued Ivan, turning to the Prince, "we are keeping +these holy men needlessly, as well as disappointing the good folk of +Courtland of their spectacle. There is no need that we should stand here +any longer. We have matters to discuss with this gentleman and--his +wife. Have I your leave to bring them together in the Palace? We may +have something to say to them more at leisure." + +But the Prince of Courtland made no answer. His late fears of the Black +Death, the astonishing turn affairs had taken, the discovery that his +wife was not his wife, the slowly percolating thought that his invasion +of Kernsberg, his victories there, and his triumphal re-entry into his +capital, had all been in vain, united with his absorbing fear of +ridicule to deprive him of speech. He moved his hand angrily and began +to descend the stairs towards the waiting horses. + +Prince Ivan turned towards Maurice von Lynar. + +"You will come with me to the Palace under escort of these gentlemen of +my staff," he said, with smiling equality of courtesy; "there is no need +to discuss intimate family affairs before half the rabble of Courtland." + +He bowed to Maurice as if he had been inviting him to a feast. Maurice +looked about the crowded square, and over the pennons of the Cossacks. +He knew there was no hope either in flight or in resistance. All the +approaches to the square had been filled up with armed men. + +"I will follow!" he answered briefly. + +The Prince swept his plumed hat to the ground. + +"Nay," he said; "lead, not follow. You must go with your wife. The +Prince of Muscovy does not precede a lady, a princess,--and a bride!" + +So it came about that Margaret, after all, descended the cathedral steps +on her husband's arm. + +And as the cavalcade rode back to the Palace the Princess was in the +midst between the Sparhawk and Prince Wasp, Louis of Courtland pacing +moodily ahead, his bridle reins loose upon his horse's neck, his chin +sunk on his breast, while the rabble cried ever, "Largesse! largesse!" +and ran before them casting brightly coloured silken scarves in the way. + +Then Prince Ivan, summoning his almoner to his side, took from him a bag +of coin. He dipped his fingers deeply in and scattered the coins with a +free hand, crying loudly, "To the health and long life of the Princess +Margaret and her husband! Health and riches and offspring!" + +And the mob taking the word from him shouted all along the narrow +streets, "To the Princess and her husband!" + +But from the hooded dormers of the city, from the lofty gable spy-holes, +from the narrow windows of Baltic staircase-towers the good wives of +Courtland looked down to see the great folk pass. And their comment was +not that of the rabble. "Married, is she?" they said among themselves. +"Well, God bless her comely face! It minds me of my own wedding. But, by +my faith, I looked more at my Fritz than she doth at the Muscovite. I +declare all her eyes are for that handsome lad who rides at her left +elbow----" + +"Nay, he is not handsome--look at his face. It is as white as a +new-washen clout hung on a drying line. Who can he be?" + +"Minds me o' the Prince's wife, the proud lady that flouted him, +mightily he doth--I should not wonder if he were her brother." + +"Yes, by my faith, dame--hast hit it! So he doth. And here was I racking +my brains to think where I had seen him before, and then, after all, I +never _had_ seen him before!" + +"A miracle it is, gossip, and right pale he looks! Yet I should not +wonder if our Margaret loves him the most. Her eyes seek to him. Women +among the great are not like us. They say they never like their own +husbands the best. What wouldst thou do, good neighbour Bette, if I +loved your Hans better than mine own stupid old Fritz! Pull the strings +off my cap, dame, sayst thou? That shows thee no great lady. For if thou +wast of the great, thou wouldst no more than wave thy hand and say, 'A +good riddance and a heartsome change!'--and with that begin to make love +to the next young lad that came by with his thumbs in his armholes and a +feather in his cap!" + +"And what o' the childer--the house-bairns--what o' them? With all this +mixing about, what comes o' them--answer me that, good dame!" + +"What, Gossip Bette--have you never heard? The childer of the great, +they suck not their own mothers' milk--they are not dandled in their own +mothers' arms. They learn not their Duty from their mothers' lips. When +they are fractious, a stranger beats them till they be good----" + +"Ah," cried the court of matrons all in unison, "I would like to catch +one of the fremit lay a hand on my Karl--my Kirsten--that I would! I +would comb their hair for them, tear the pinner off their backs--that I +would!" "And I!" "And I!" + +"Nay, good gossips all," out of the chorus the voice of the dame learned +in the ways of the great asserted itself; "that, again, proves you all +no better than burgherish town-folk--not truly of the noble of the land. +For a right great lady, when she meets a foster-nurse with a baby at the +breast, will go near and say--I have heard 'em--'La! the pretty thing--a +poppet! Well-a-well, 'tis pretty, for sure! And whose baby may this +be?' + +"'Thine own, lady, thine own!'" + +At this long and loud echoed the derision of the good wives of +Courtland. Their gossip laughed and reasserted. But no, they would not +hear a word more. She had overstepped the limit of their belief. + +"What, not to know her child--her own flesh and blood? Out on her!" +cried every mother who had felt about her neck the clasp of tiny hands, +or upon her breast the easing pressure of little blind lips. "Good dame, +no; you shall not hoodwink us. Were she deaf and dumb and doting, a +mother would yet know her child. 'Tis not in nature else! Well, thanks +be to Mary Mother--she who knew both wife-pain and mother-joy, we, at +least, are not of the great. We may hush our own bairns to sleep, dance +with them when they frolic, and correct them when they be +naughty-minded. Nevertheless, a good luck go with our noble lady this +day! May she have many fair children and a husband to love her even as +if she were a common woman and no princess!" + +So in little jerks of blessing and with much head-shaking the good wives +of Courtland continued their congress, long after the last Cossack lance +with its fluttering pennon had been lost to view down the winding +street. + +For, indeed, well might the gossips thank the Virgin and their patron +saints that they were not as the poor Princess Margaret, and that their +worst troubles concerned only whether Hans or Fritz tarried a little +over-long in the town wine-cellars, or wagered the fraction of a penny +too much on a neighbour's cock-fight, and so returned home somewhat +crusty because the wrong bird had won the main. + + * * * * * + +But in the Prince's palace other things were going forward. Hitherto we +have had to do with the Summer Palace by the river, a building of no +strength, and built more as a pleasure house for the princely family +than as a place of permanent habitation. But the Castle of Courtland was +a structure of another sort. + +Set on a low rock in the centre of the town, its walls rose continuous +with its foundations, equally massive and impregnable, to the height of +over seventy feet. For the first twenty-five neither window nor grating +broke the grim uniformity of those mighty walls of mortared rock. Above +that line only a few small openings half-closed with iron bars evidenced +the fact that a great prince had his dwelling within. The main entrance +to the Castle was through a gateway closed by a grim iron-toothed +portcullis. Then a short tunnel led to another and yet stronger +defence--a deep natural fosse which surrounded the rock on all sides, +and over which a drawbridge conducted into the courtyard of the +fortress. + +The Sparhawk knew very well that he was going to his death as he rode +through the streets of the city of Courtland, but none would have +discovered from his bearing that there was aught upon his mind of graver +concern than the fit of a doublet or, perhaps, the favour of a pretty +maid-of-honour. But with the Princess Margaret it was different. In +these last crowded hours she had quite lost her old gay defiance. Her +whole heart was fixed on Maurice, and the tears would not be bitten back +when she thought of the fate to which he was going with so manly a +courage and so fine an air. + +They dismounted in the gloomy courtyard, and Maurice, slipping quickly +from his saddle, caught Margaret in his arms before the Muscovite could +interfere. She clung to him closely, knowing that it might be for the +last time. + +"Maurice, Maurice," she murmured, "can you forgive me? I have brought +you to this!" + +"Hush, sweetheart," he answered in her ear; "be my own dear princess. Do +not let them see. Be my brave girl. They cannot divide our love!" + +"Come, I beg of you," came the dulcet voice of Prince Ivan behind them; +"I would not for all Courtland break in upon the billing and cooing of +such turtle-doves, were it not that their affection blinds them to the +fact that the men-at-arms and scullions are witnesses to these pretty +demonstrations. Tarry a little, sweet valentines--time and place wait +for all things." + +The Princess commanded herself quickly. In another moment she was once +more Margaret of Courtland. + +"Even the Prince of Muscovy might spare a lady his insults at such a +time!" she said. + +The Prince bared his head and bowed low. + +"Nay," he said very courteously; "you mistake, Princess Margaret. I +insult you not. I may regret your taste--but that is a different matter. +Yet even that may in time amend. My quarrel is with this gentleman, and +it is one of some standing, I believe." + +"My sword is at your service, sir!" said Maurice von Lynar firmly. + +"Again you mistake," returned the Prince more suavely than ever; "you +have no sword. A prisoner, and (if I may say so without offence) a spy +taken red-hand, cannot fight duels. The Prince of Courtland must settle +this matter. When his Justiciar is satisfied, I shall most willingly +take up my quarrel with--whatever is left of the most noble Count +Maurice von Lynar." + +To this Maurice did not reply, but with Margaret still beside him he +followed Prince Louis up the narrow ancient stairway called from its +shape the couch, into the gloomy audience chamber of the Castle of +Courtland. + +They reached the hall, and then at last, as though restored to power by +his surroundings, Prince Louis found his tongue. + +"A guard!" he cried; "hither Berghoff, Kampenfeldt! Conduct the Princess +to her privy chamber and do not permit her to leave it without my +permission. I would speak with this fellow alone." + +Ivan hastily crossed over to Prince Louis and whispered in his ear. + +In the meantime, ere the soldiers of the guard could approach, Margaret +cried out in a loud clear voice, "I take you all to witness that I, +Margaret of Courtland, am the wife of this man, Maurice von Lynar, Count +von Löen. He is my wedded husband, and I love him with all my heart! +According to God's holy ordinance he is mine!" + +"You have forgotten the rest, fair Princess," suggested Prince Ivan +subtly--"_till death you do part!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +PRINCE WASP STINGS + + +Margaret did not answer her tormentor's taunt. Her arms went about +Maurice's neck, and her lips, salt with the overflowing of tears, sought +his in a last kiss. The officer of the Prince's guard touched her on the +shoulder. She shook him haughtily off, and then, having completed her +farewells, she loosened her hands and went slowly backward towards the +further end of the hall with her eyes still upon the man she loved. + +"Stay, Berghoff," said Prince Louis suddenly; "let the Princess remain +where she is. Cross your swords in front of her. I desire that she shall +hear what I have to say to this young gentleman." + +"And also," added Prince Ivan, "I desire the noble Princess to remember +that this has been granted by the Prince upon my intercession. In the +future, it may gain me more of her favour than I have had the good +fortune to enjoy in the past!" + +Maurice stood alone, his tall slender figure supple and erect. One hand +rested easily upon his swordless thigh, while the other still held the +plumed hat he snatched up as in frantic haste he had followed Margaret +from the Summer Palace. + +There ensued a long silence in which the Sparhawk eyed his captors +haughtily, while Prince Louis watched him from under the grey penthouse +of his eyebrows. + +Then three several times the Prince essayed to speak, and as often +utterance was choked within him. His feelings could only find vent in +muttered imprecations, half smothered by a consuming rage. Then Prince +Ivan crossed over and laid his hand restrainingly on his arm. The touch +seemed to calm his friend, and, after swallowing several times as there +had been a knot in his throat, at last he spoke. + +For the second time in his life Maurice von Lynar stood alone among his +enemies; but this time in peril far deadlier than among the roisterous +pleasantries of Castle Kernsberg. Yet he was as little daunted now as +then. Once on a time a duchess had saved him. Now a princess loved him. +And even if she could not save him, still that was better. + +"So," cried Prince Louis, in the curiously uneven voice of a coward +lashing himself into a fury, "you have played out your treachery upon a +reigning Prince of Courtland. You cheated me at Castle Kernsberg. Now +you have made me a laughing-stock throughout the Empire. You have shamed +a maiden of my house, my sister, the daughter of my father. What have +you to say ere I order you to be flung out from the battlements of the +western tower?" + +"Ere it comes to that I shall have something to say, Prince Louis," +interrupted Prince Wasp, smiling. "We must not waste such dainty powers +of masquerade on anything so vulgar as the hangman's rope." + +"Gentlemen and princes," Maurice von Lynar answered, "that which I have +done I have done for the sake of my mistress, the Lady Joan, and I am +not afraid. Prince Louis, it was her will and intent never to come to +Courtland as your wife. She would not have been taken alive. It was +therefore the duty of her servants to preserve her life, and I offered +myself in her stead. My life was hers already, for she had preserved it. +She had given. It was hers to take. With the chief captains of Kernsberg +I plotted that she should be seized and carried to a place of refuge +wherein no foe could even find her. There she abides with chosen men to +guard her. I took her place and was delivered up that Kernsberg might +be cleared of its enemies. Gladly I came that I might pay a little of my +debt to my sovran lady and liege mistress, Joan Duchess of Kernsberg and +Hohenstein." + +"Nobly perorated!" cried Prince Ivan, clapping his hands. "Right +sonorously ended. Faith, a paladin, a deliverer of oppressed damsels, a +very carnival masquerader! He will play you the dragon, this fellow, or +he will act Saint George with a sword of lath! He will amble you the +hobby-horse, or be the Holy Virgin in a miracle play. Well, he shall +play in one more good scene ere I have done with him. But, listen, Sir +Mummer, in all this there is no word of the Princess Margaret. How comes +it that you so loudly proclaim having given yourself a noble sacrifice +for one fair lady, when at the same time you are secretly married to +another? Are you a deliverer of ladies by wholesale? Speak to this +point. Let us have another noble period--its subject my affianced bride. +Already we have heard of your high devotion to Prince Louis's wife. +Well--next!" + +But it was the Princess who spoke from where she stood behind the +crossed swords of her guards. + +"That _I_ will answer. I am a woman, and weak in your hands, princes +both. You have set the grasp of rude men-at-arms upon the wrist of a +Princess of Courtland. But you can never compel her soul. Brother Louis, +my father committed me to you as a little child--have I not been a +loving and a faithful sister to you? And till this Muscovite came +between, were you not good to me? Wherefore have you changed? Why has he +made you cruel to your little Margaret?" + +Prince Louis turned towards his sister, moving his hands uncertainly and +even deprecatingly. + +Ivan moved quickly to his side and whispered something which instantly +rekindled the light of anger in the weakling's eyes. + +"You are no sister of mine," he said; "you have disgraced your family +and yourself. Whether it be true or no that you are married to this man +matters little!" + +"It is true; I do not lie!" said Margaret recovering herself. + +"So much the worse, then, and he shall suffer for it. At least I can +hide, if I cannot prevent, your shame!" + +"I will never give him up; nothing on earth shall part our love!" + +Prince Ivan smiled delicately, turning to where she stood at the end of +the hall. + +"Sweet Princess," he said, "divorce is, I understand, contrary to your +holy Roman faith. But in my land we have discovered a readier way than +any papal bull. Be good enough to observe this"--he held a dagger in his +hand. "It is a little blade of steel, but a span long, and narrow as one +of your dainty fingers, yet it will divorce the best married pair in the +world." + +"But neither dagger nor the hate of enemies can sever love," Margaret +answered proudly. "You may slay my husband, but he is mine still. You +cannot twain our souls." + +The Prince shrugged his shoulder and opened his palms deprecatingly. + +"Madam," he said, "I shall be satisfied with twaining your bodies. In +holy Russia we are plain men. We have a saying, 'No one hath ever seen a +soul. Let the body content you!' When this gentleman is--what I shall +make him, he is welcome to any communion of souls with you to which he +can attain. I promise you that, so far as he is concerned, you shall +find me neither exigent lover nor jealous husband!" + +The Princess looked at Maurice. Her eyes had dwelt defiantly on the +Prince of Muscovy whilst he was speaking, but now a softer light, gentle +yet brave, crept into them. + +"Fear not, my husband," she said. "If the steel divide us, the steel can +also unite. They cannot watch so close, or bind so tight, but that I can +find a way. Or, if iron will not pierce, fire burn, or water drown, I +have a drug that will open the door which leads to you. Fear not, +dearest, I shall yet meet you unashamed, and as your loyal wife, without +soil or stain, look into your true eyes." + +"I declare you have taught your mistress the trick of words!" cried the +Prince delightedly. "Count von Löen, the Lady Margaret has quite your +manner. She speaks to slow music." + +But even the sneers of Prince Ivan could not filch the greatness out of +their loves, and Prince Louis was obviously wavering. Ivan's quick eye +noted this and he instantly administered a fillip. + +"Are you not moved, Louis?" he said. "How shamelessly hard is your +heart! This handsome youth, whom any part sets like a wedding favour and +fits like his own delicate skin, condescends to become your relative. +Where is your welcome, your kinsmanlike manners? Go, fall upon his neck! +Kiss him on either cheek. Is he not your heir? He hath only sequestrated +your wife, married your sister. Your only brother is a childless priest. +There needs only your decease to set him on the throne of the Princedom. +Give him time. How easily he has compassed all this! He will manage the +rest as easily. And then--listen to the shouting in the streets. I can +hear it already. 'Long live Maurice the Bastard, Prince of Courtland!'" + +And the Prince of Muscovy laughed loud and long. But Prince Louis did +not laugh. His eyes glared upon the prisoner like those of a wild beast +caught in a corner whence it wishes to flee but cannot. + +"He shall die--this day shall be his last. I swear it!" he cried. "He +hath mocked me, and I will slay him with my hand." + +He drew the dagger from his belt. But in the centre of the hall the +Sparhawk stood so still and quiet that Prince Louis hesitated. Ivan laid +a soft hand upon his wrist and as gently drew the dagger out of his +grasp. + +"Nay, my Prince, we will give him a worthier passing than that. So noble +a knight-errant must die no common death. What say you to the Ukraine +Cross, the Cross of Steeds? I have here four horses, all wild from the +steppes. This squire of dames, this woman-mummer, hath, as now we know, +four several limbs. By a strange coincidence I have a wild horse for +each of these. Let limbs and steeds be severally attached, my Cossacks +know how. Upon each flank let the lash be laid--and--well, the Princess +Margaret is welcome to her liege lord's soul. I warrant she will not +desire his fair body any more." + +At this Margaret tottered, her knees giving way beneath her, so that her +guards stood nearer to catch her if she should fall. + +"Louis--my brother," she cried, "do not listen to the monster. Kill my +husband if you must--because I love him. But do not torture him. By the +last words of our mother, by the memory of our father, by your faith in +the Most Pitiful Son of God, I charge you--do not this devilry." + +Prince Ivan did not give Louis of Courtland time to reply to his +sister's appeal. + +"The most noble Princess mistakes," he murmured suavely. "Death by the +Cross of Steeds is no torture. It is the easiest and swiftest of deaths. +I have witnessed it often. In my country it is reserved for the greatest +and the most distinguished. No common felon dies by the Cross of Steeds, +but men whose pride it is to die greatly. Ere long we will show you on +the plain across the river that I speak the truth. It is a noble sight, +and all Courtland shall be there. What say you, Louis? Shall this +springald seat himself in your princely chair, or--shall we try the +Cross of the Ukraine?" + +"Have it your own way, Prince Ivan!" said Louis, and went out without +another word. The Muscovite stood a moment looking from Maurice to +Margaret and back again. He was smiling his inscrutable Oriental smile. + +"The Prince has given me discretion," he said at last. "I might order +you both to separate dungeons, but I am an easy man and delight in the +domestic affections. I would see the parting of two such faithful +lovers. I may learn somewhat that shall stand me in good stead in the +future. It is my ill-fortune that till now I have had little experience +of the gentler emotions." + +He raised his hand. + +"Let the Princess pass," he cried. + +The guards dropped their swords to their sides. They had been +restraining her with as much gentleness as their duty would permit. + +Instantly the Princess Margaret ran forward with eager appeal on her +face. She dropped on her knees before the Prince of Muscovy and clasped +her hands in supplication. + +"Prince Ivan," she said, "I pray you for the love of God to spare him, +to let him go. I promise never to see him more. I will go to a nunnery. +I will look no more upon the face of day." + +"That, above all things, I cannot allow," said the Prince. "So fair a +face must see many suns--soon, I trust, in Moscow city, and by my side." + +"Margaret," said the Sparhawk, "it is useless to plead. Do not abase +yourself in the presence of our enemy. You cannot touch a man's heart +when his breast covers a stone. Bid me goodbye and be brave. The time +will not be long." + +From the place where Margaret the loving woman had kneeled Margaret the +Princess rose to her feet at the word of her husband. Without deigning +even to glance at Ivan, who had stooped to assist her, she passed him by +and went to Von Lynar. He held out both his hands and took her little +trembling ones in a strong assured clasp. + +The Prince watched the pair with a chill smile. + +"Margaret," said Maurice, "this will not be for long. What matters the +ford, so that we both pass over the river. Be brave, little wife. The +crossing will not be wide, nor the water deep. They cannot take from us +that which is ours. And He who joined us, whose priest blessed us, will +unite us anew when and where it seemeth good to Him!" + +"Maurice, I cannot let you die--and by such a terrible death!" + +"Dearest, what does it matter? I am yours. Wherever my spirit may +wander, I am yours alone. I will think of you when the Black Water +shallows to the brink. On the further side I will wait a day and then +you will meet me there. To you it may seem years. It will be but a day +to me. And I shall be there. So, little Margaret, good-night. Do not +forget that I love you. I would have made you very happy, if I had had +time--ah, if I had had time!" + +Like a child after its bedside prayer she lifted up her face to be +kissed. + +"Good-night, Maurice," she said simply. "Wait for me; I shall not be +long after!" + +She laid her brow a moment on his breast. Then she lifted her head and +walked slowly and proudly out of the hall. The guard fell in behind her, +and Maurice von Lynar was left alone with the Prince of Muscovy. + +As the door closed upon the Princess a sudden devilish grimace of fury +distorted the countenance of Prince Ivan. Hitherto he had been +studiously and even caressingly courteous. But now he strode swiftly up +to his captive and smote him across the mouth with the back of his +gauntleted hand. + +"That!" he said furiously, "that for the lips which have kissed hers! +Soon, soon I shall pay the rest of my debt. Yes, by the most high God, I +will pay it--with usury thereto!" + +A thin thread of scarlet showed upon the white of Maurice von Lynar's +chin and trickled slowly downwards. But he uttered no word. Only he +looked his enemy very straightly in the eyes, and those of the Muscovite +dropped before that defiant fierce regard. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE LOVES OF PRIEST AND WIFE + + +It remains to tell briefly how certain great things came to pass. We +must return to Isle Rugen and to the lonely grange on the spit of sand +which separates the Baltic from the waters of the Freshwater Haff. + +Many things have happened there since Conrad of Courtland, Cardinal and +Archbishop, awaked to find by his bedside the sleeping girl who was his +brother's wife. + +On Isle Rugen, where the pines grew dense and green, gripping and +settling the thin sandy soil with their prehensile roots, Joan and +Conrad found themselves much alone. The lady of the grange was seldom to +be seen, save when all were gathered together at meals. Werner von +Orseln and the Plassenburg captains, Jorian and Boris, played cards and +flung harmless dice for white stones of a certain size picked from the +beach. Dumb Max Ulrich went about his work like a shadow. The ten +soldiers mounted guard and looked out to sea with their elbows on their +knees in the intervals. Three times a week the solitary boat, with Max +Ulrich at the oars, crossed to the landing-place on the mainland and +returned laden with provisions. The outer sea was empty before their +eyes, generally deep blue and restless with foam caps. Behind them the +Haff lay vacant and still as oil in a kitchen basin. + +But it was not dull on Isle Rugen. + +The osprey flashed and fell in the clear waters of the Haff, presently +to re-emerge with a fish in his beak, the drops running like a broken +string of pearls from his scales. Rough-legged buzzards screamed their +harsh and melancholy cry as on slanted wings they glided down inclines +of sunshine or lay out motionless upon the viewless glorious air. Wild +geese swept overhead out of the north in V-shaped flocks. The sea-gulls +tacked and balanced. All-graceful terns swung thwartways the blue sky, +or plunged headlong into the long green swells with the curve and speed +of falling stars. + +It was a place of forgetting, and in the autumn time it is good to +forget. For winter is nigh, when there will be time and enough to think +all manner of sad thoughts. + +So in the September weather Joan and Conrad walked much together. And as +Joan forgat Kernsberg and her revenge, Rome and his mission receded into +the background of the young man's thoughts. Soon they met undisguisedly +without fear or shame. This Isle Rugen was a place apart--a haven of +refuge not of their seeking. Mars had driven one there, Neptune the +other. + +Yet when Conrad woke in his little north-looking room in the lucid +pearl-grey dawn he had some bad moments. His vows, his priesthood, his +princedom of Holy Church were written in fire before his eyes. His heart +weighed heavy as if cinctured with lead. And, deeper yet, a rat seemed +to gnaw sharp-toothed at the springs of his life. + +Also, when the falling seas, combing the pebbly beaches with foamy +teeth, rattled the wet shingle, Joan would ofttimes wake from sleep and +lie staring wide-eyed at the casement. Black reproach of self brooded +upon her spirit, as if a foul bird of night had fluttered through the +open window and settled upon her breast. The poor folk of Kernsberg--her +fatherland invaded and desolate, the Sparhawk, the man who ought to have +been the ruler she was not worthy to be, the leader in war, the lawgiver +in peace--these reproachful shapes filled her mind so that sleep fled +and she lay pondering plans of escape and deliverance. + +But of one thing she never thought--of the cathedral of Courtland and +the husband to whose face she had but once lifted her eyes. + +The sun looked through between the red cloud bars. These he soon left +behind, turning them from fiery islands to banks of fleecy wool. The +shadows shot swiftly westward and then began slowly to shorten. In his +chamber Prince Conrad rose and went to the window. A rose-coloured light +lay along the sea horizon, darting between the dark pine stems and +transmuting the bare sand-dunes into dreamy marvels, till they touched +the heart like glimpses of a lost Eden seen in dreams. The black bird of +night flapped its way behind the belting trees. There was not such a +thing as a ghostly rat to gnaw unseen the heart of man. The blue dome of +sky overhead was better than the holy shrine of Peter across the tawny +flood of Tiber, and Isle Rugen more to be desired than the seven-hilled +city itself. Yea, better than lifted chalice and wafted incense, Joan's +hand in his---- + +And Conrad the lover turned from the window with a defiant heart. + + * * * * * + +At her casement, which opened to the east, stood at the same moment the +young Duchess of Hohenstein. Her lips were parted and the mystery of the +new day dwelt in her eyes like the memory of a benediction. Southward +lay the world, striving, warring, sinning, repenting, elevating the +Host, slaying the living, and burying the dead. But between her and that +world stretched a wide water not to be crossed, a fixed gulf not to be +passed over. It was the new day, and there beneath her was the strip of +silver sand where he and she had walked yestereven, when the moon was +full and the wavelets of that sheltered sea crisped in silver at their +feet. + +An hour afterwards these two met and gave each other a hand silently. +Then, facing the sunrise, they walked eastward along the shore, while +from the dusk of the garden gate Theresa von Lynar watched them with a +sad smile upon her face. + +"She is learning the lesson even as I learned it," she murmured, +unconsciously thinking aloud. "Well, that which the father taught it is +meet that the daughter should learn. Let her eat the fruit, the bitter +fruit of love--even as I have eaten it!" + +She watched a little longer, standing there with the pruning-knife in +her hand. She saw Conrad turn towards Joan as they descended a little +dell among the eastern sand-hills. And though she could not see, she +knew that two hands met, and that they stood still for a moment, ere +their feet climbed the opposite slope of dew-drenched sand. A swift sob +took her unexpectedly by the throat. + +"And yet," she said, "were all to do over, would not Theresa von Lynar +again learn that lesson from Alpha to Omega, eat the Dead Sea fruit to +its bitterest kernel, in order that once more the bud might open and +love's flower be hers?" + +Theresa von Lynar at her garden door spoke truth. For even then among +the sand-hills the bud was opening, though the year was on the wane and +the winter nigh. + +"Happy Isle Rugen!" said Joan, drawing a breath like a sigh. "Why were +we born to princedoms, Conrad, you and I?" + +"I at least was not," answered her companion. "Dumb Max's jerkin of blue +fits me better than any robe royal." + +They stood on the highest part of the island. Joan was leaning on the +crumbling wall of an ancient fort, which, being set on a promontory from +which the pinetrees drew back a little, formed at once a place of +observation and a point objective for their walks. She turned at his +words and looked at him. Conrad, indeed, never looked better or more +princely than in that rough jerkin of blue, together with the corded +forester's breeches and knitted hose which he had borrowed from +Theresa's dumb servitor. + +"Conrad," said Joan, suddenly standing erect and looking directly at the +young man, "if I were to tell you that I had resolved never to return to +Kernsberg, but to remain here on Isle Rugen, what would you answer?" + +"I should ask to be your companion--or, if not, your bailiff!" said the +Prince-Bishop promptly. + +"That would be to forget your holy office!" + +A certain gentle sadness passed over the features of the young man. + +"I leave many things undone for the sake of mine office," he said; "but +the canons of the Church do not forbid poverty, or yet manual labour." + +"But you have told me a hundred times," urged Joan, smiling in spite of +herself, "that necessity and not choice made you a Churchman. Does that +necessity no longer exist?" + +"Nay," answered Conrad readily as before; "but smaller necessities yield +to greater?" + +"And the greater?" + +"Why," he answered, "what say you to the tempest that drove me +hither--the thews and stout hearts of Werner von Orseln and his men, not +to speak of Captains Boris and Jorian there? Are they not sufficient +reasons for my remaining here?" + +He paused as if he had more to say. + +"Well?" said Joan, and waited for him to continue. + +"There is something else," he said. "It is--it is--that I cannot bear to +leave you! God knows I could not leave you if I would!" + +Joan of Hohenstein started. The words had been spoken in a low tone, yet +with suppressed vehemence, as though driven from the young man's lips +against his will. But there was no mistaking their purport. Yet they +were spoken so hopelessly, and withal so gently, that she could not be +angry. + +"Conrad--Conrad," she murmured reproachfully, "I thought I could have +trusted you. You promised never again to forget what we must both +remember!" + +"In so thinking you did well," he replied; "you may trust me to the end. +But the privilege of speech and testimony is not denied even to the +criminal upon the scaffold." + +A wave of pity passed over Joan. A month before she would have withdrawn +herself in hot anger. But Isle Rugen had gentled all her ways. The peace +of that ancient fortalice, the wash of its ambient waters, the very lack +of incident, the sense of the mysteries of tragic life which surrounded +her on all sides, the deep thoughts she had been thinking alone with +herself, the companionship of this man whom she loved--all these had +wrought a new spirit in Joan of the Sword Hand. Women who cannot be +pitiful are but half women. They have never yet entered upon their +inheritance. But now Joan was coming to her own again. For to pity of +Theresa von Lynar she was adding pity for Conrad of Courtland and--Joan +of Hohenstein. + +"Speak," she said very gently. "Do not be afraid; tell me all that is in +your heart." + +Joan was not disinclined to hear any words that the young man might +speak. She believed that she could listen unmoved even to his most +passionate declarations of love. Like the wise physician, she would +listen, understand, prescribe--and administer the remedy. + +But the pines of Isle Rugen stood between this woman and the girl who +had ridden away so proudly from the doors of the Kernsberg minster at +the head of her four hundred lances. Besides, she had not forgotten the +tournament and the slim secretary who had once stood before this man in +the river parlour of the Summer Palace. + +Then Conrad spoke in a low voice, very distinct and even in its +modulation. + +"Joan," he said, "once on a time I dreamed of being loved--dreamed that +among all the world of women there might be one woman for me. Such +things must come when deep sleep falleth upon a young man. Waking I put +them from me, even as I put arms and warfare aside. I believed that I +had conquered the lust of the eye. Now I know that I can never again be +true priest, never serve the altar with a clean heart. + +"Listen, my Lady Joan! I love you--there is no use in hiding it. +Doubtless you yourself have already seen it. I love you so greatly that +vows, promises, priesthoods, cardinalates are no more to me than the +crying of the seabirds out yonder. Let a worthier than I receive and +hold them. They are not for a weak and sinful man. My bishopric let +another take. I would rather be your groom, your servitor, your lacquey, +than reign on the Seven Hills and sit in Holy Peter's chair!" + +Joan leaned against the crumbling battlement, and the words of Conrad +were very sweet in her ear. They filled her with pity, while at the same +time her heart was strong within her. None had dared to speak such +things to her before in all her life, and she was a woman. The Princess +Margaret, had she loved a man as Joan did this man, would have given +back vow for vow, renunciation for renunciation, and, it might be, have +bartered kiss for kiss. + +But Joan of the Sword Hand was never stronger, never more serene, never +surer of herself than when she listened to the words she loved best to +hear, from the lips of the man whom of all others she desired to speak +them. At first she had been looking out upon the sea, but now she +permitted her eyes to rest with a great kindliness upon the young man. +Even as he spoke Conrad divined the thing that was in her heart. + +"Mark you," he said, "do me the justice to remember that I ask for +nothing. I expect nothing. I hope for nothing in return. I thought once +that I could love Divine things wholly. Now I know that my heart is too +earthly. But instead I love the noblest and most gracious woman in all +the world. And I love her, too, with a love not wholly unworthy of her." + +"You do me overmuch honour," said Joan quietly. "I, too, am weak and +sinful. Or how else would I, your brother's wife, listen to such words +from any man--least of all from you?" + +"Nay," said Conrad; "you only listen out of your great pitifulness. But +I am no worthy priest. I will not take upon me the yet greater things +for which I am so manifestly unfitted. I will not sully the holy +garments with my earthliness. Conrad of Courtland, Bishop and Cardinal, +died out there among the breakers. + +"He will never go to Rome, never kneel at the tombs of the Apostles. +From this day forth he is a servitor, a servant of servants in the train +of the Duchess Joan. Save those with us here, our hostess and the three +captains (who for your sake will hold their peace), none know that +Conrad of Courtland escaped the waters that swallowed up his companions. +They and you will keep the secret. This shaven crown will speedily +thatch itself again, a beard grow upon these shaveling cheeks. A dash of +walnut juice, and who will guess that under the tan of Conrad the serf +there is concealed a prince of Holy Church?" + +He paused, almost smiling. The picture of his renunciation had grown +real to him even as he spoke. But Joan did not smile. She waited a space +to see if he had aught further to say. But he was silent, waiting for +her answer. + +"Conrad," she said very gently, "that I have listened to you, and that I +have not been angry, may be deadly sin for us both. Yet I cannot be +angry. God forgive me! I have tried and I cannot be angry. And why +should I? Even as I lay a babe in the cradle, I was wedded. If a woman +must suffer, she ought at least to be permitted to choose the instrument +of her torture." + +"It is verity," he replied; "you are no more true wife than I am true +priest." + +"Yet because you have dispensed holy bread, and I knelt before the altar +as a bride, we must keep faith, you and I. We are bound by our nobility. +If we sin, let it be the greater and rarer sin--the sin of the spirit +only. Conrad, I love you. Nay, stand still where you are and listen to +me--to me, Joan, your brother's wife. For I, too, once for all will +clear my soul. I loved you long ere your eyes fell on me. I came as +Dessauer's secretary to the city of Courtland. I determined to see the +man I was to wed. I saw the prince--my prince as I thought--storm +through the lists on his white horse. I saw him bare his head and +receive the crown of victory. I stood before him, ashamed yet glad, +hosed and doubleted like a boy, in the Summer Pavilion. I heard his +gracious words. I loved my prince, who so soon was to be wholly mine. +The months slipped past, and I was ever the gladder the faster they +sped. The woman stirred within the stripling girl. In half a year, in +twenty weeks--in five--in one--in a day--an hour, I would put my hand, +my life, myself into his keeping! Then came the glad tumult of the +rejoicing folk, the hush of the crowded cathedral. I said, 'Oh, not +yet--I will not lift my eyes to my prince until----' We stopped. I +lifted my eyes. And lo! the prince was not my prince!" + +There was a long and solemn pause between these two on the old +watchtower. Never was declaration of love so given and so taken. Conrad +remained still as a statue, only his eyes growing great and full of +light. Joan stood looking at him, unashamed and fearless. Yet neither +moved an inch toward either. A brave woman's will, to do right greatly, +stood between them. + +She went on. + +"Now you know all, my Conrad," she said. "Isle Rugen can never more be +the isle of peace to us. You and I have shivered the cup of our +happiness. We must part. We can never be merely friends. I must abide +because I am a prisoner. You will keep my counsel, promising me to be +silent, and together we will contrive a way of escape." + +When Conrad answered her again his voice was hoarse and broken, almost +like one rheumed with sleeping out on a winter's night. His words +whistled in his windpipe, flying from treble to bass and back again. + +"Joan, Joan!" he said, and the third time "Joan!" And for the moment he +could say no more. + +"True love," she said, and her voice was almost caressing, "you and I +are barriered from each other. Yet we belong--you to me--I to you! I +will not touch your hand, nor you mine. Not even as we have hitherto +done. Let ours be the higher, perhaps deadlier sin--the sin of soul and +soul. Do you go back to your office, your electorate, while I stay here +to do my duty." + +"And why not you to your duchy?" said Conrad, who had begun to recover +himself. + +"Because," she answered, "if I refuse to abide by one of my father's +bargains, I have no right to hold by the other. He would have made me +your brother's wife. That I have refused. He disinherited his lawful son +that I might take the dukedom with me as my dowry. Can I keep that which +was only given me in trust for another? Maurice von Lynar shall be Duke +Maurice, and Theresa von Lynar shall have her true place as the widow of +Henry the Lion!" + +And she stood up tall and straight, like a princess indeed. + +"And you?" he said very low. "What will you do, Joan?" + +"For me, I will abide on Isle Rugen. Nunneries are not for me. There are +doubtless one or two who will abide with me for the sake of old +days--Werner von Orseln for one, Peter Balta for another. I shall not be +lonely." + +She smiled upon him with a peculiar trustful sweetness and continued-- + +"And once a year, in the autumn, you will come from your high office. +You will lay aside the princely scarlet, and don the curt hose and blue +jerkin, even as now you stand. You will gather blackberries and help me +to preserve them. You will split wood and carry water. Then, when the +day is well spent, you and I shall walk hither in the high afternoon and +tell each other how we stand and all the things that have filled our +hearts in the year's interspace. Thus will we keep tryst, you and I--not +priest and wedded wife, but man and woman speaking the truth eye to eye +without fear and without stain. Do you promise?" + +And for all answer the Prince-Cardinal kneeled down, and taking the hem +of her dress he kissed it humbly and reverently. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THERESA KEEPS TROTH + + +But they had reckoned without Theresa von Lynar. + +Conrad and Joan came back from the ruined fortification, silent mostly, +but thrilled with the thoughts of that which their eyes had seen, their +ears heard. Each had listened to the beating of the other's heart. Both +knew they were beloved. Nothing could alter _that_ any more for ever. As +they had gone out with Theresa watching them from the dusk of the garden +arcades, their hands had drawn together. Eyes had sought answering eyes +at each dip of the path. They had listened for the finest shades of +meaning in one another's voices, and taken courage or lost hope from the +droop of an eyelid or the quiver of a syllable. + +Now all was changed. They knew that which they knew. + +The orchard of the lonely grange on Isle Rugen was curiously out of +keeping with its barren surroundings. Enclosed within the same wall as +the dwelling-house, it was the special care of the Wordless Man, whose +many years of pruning and digging and watering, undertaken each at its +proper season, had resulted in a golden harvest of September fruit. When +Joan and Conrad came to the portal which gave entrance from without, lo! +it stood open. The sun had been shining in their eyes, and the place +looked very slumberous in the white hazy glory of a northern day. The +path which led out of the orchard was splashed with cool shade. Green +leaves shrined fair globes of fruitage fast ripening in the blowing airs +and steadfast sun. Up the path towards them as they stood together came +Theresa von Lynar. There was a smile on her face, a large and kindly +graciousness in her splendid eyes. Her hair was piled and circled about +her head, and drawn back in ruddy golden masses from the broad white +forehead. Autumn was Theresa's season, and in such surroundings she +might well have stood for Ceres or Pomona, with apron full enough of +fruit for many a horn of plenty. + +Such large-limbed simple-natured women as Theresa von Lynar appear to +greatest advantage in autumn. It is their time when the day of +apple-blossom and spring-flourish is overpast, and when that which these +foreshadowed is at length fulfilled. Then to see such an one emerge from +an orchard close, and approach softly smiling out of the shadow of fruit +trees, is to catch a glimpse of the elder gods. Spring, on the other +hand, is for merry maidens, slips of unripe grace, buds from the +schools. Summer is the season of languorous dryads at rest in the green +gloom of forests, fanning sunburnt cheeks with leafy boughs, their dark +eyes full of the height of living. Winter is the time of swift +lithe-limbed girls with heads proudly set, who through the white weather +carry them like Dian the Huntress, their dainty chins dimpling out of +softening furs. To each is her time and supremacy, though a certain +favoured few are the mistresses of all. They move like a part of the +spring when cherry blossoms are set against a sky of changeful April +blue. They rejoice when dark-eyed summer wears scarlet flowers in her +hair, shaded by green leaves and fanned by soft airs. Well-bosomed Ceres +herself, smiling luxuriant with ripe lips, is not fairer than they at +the time of apple-gathering, nor yet dainty Winter, footing it lightly +over the frozen snow. + +Joan, an it liked her, could have triumphed in all these, but her nature +was too simple to care about the impression she made, while Conrad was +too deep in love to notice any difference in her perfections. + +And now Theresa von Lynar, the woman who had given her beauty and her +life like a little Saint Valentine's gift into the hand of the man she +loved, content that he should take or throw away as pleased him +best--Theresa von Lynar met these two, who in their new glory of +renunciation thought that they had plumbed the abysses of love, when as +yet they had taken no more than a single sounding in the narrow seas. +She stood looking at them as they came towards her, with a sympathy that +was deeper far than mere tolerance. + +"Our Joan of the Sword Hand is growing into a woman," she murmured; and +something she had thought buried deep heaved in her breast, shaking her +as Enceladus the Giant shakes Etna when he turns in his sleep. For she +saw in the girl her father's likeness more strongly than she had ever +seen it in her own son. + +"You have faced the sunshine!" Thus she greeted them as they came. "Sit +awhile with me in the shade. I have here a bower where Maurice loved to +play--before he left me. None save I hath entered it since that day." + +So saying, she led the way along an alley of pleached green, at the far +end of which they could see the solitary figure of Max Ulrich, in the +full sun, bending his back to his gardening tasks, yet at the same time, +as was his custom, keeping so near his mistress that a fluttering +kerchief or a lifted hand would bring him instantly to her side. + +It was a small rustic eight-sided lodge, thatched with heather, its +latticed windows wide open and creeper-grown, to which Theresa led them. +It had been well kept; and when Joan found herself within, a sudden +access of tenderness for this lonely mother, who for love's sake had +offered herself like a sacrifice upon an altar, took possession of her. + +For about the walls was fastened a child's pitiful armoury. Home-made +swords of lath, arrows winged with the cast feathers of the woodland, +crooked bows, the broken crockery of a hundred imagined banquets--these, +and many more, were carefully kept in place with immediate and loving +care. Maurice would be back again presently, they seemed to say, and +would take up his play just where he left it. + +No cobwebs hung from the roof; the bows were duly unstrung; and though +wooden platters and rough kitchen equipage were mingled with warlike +accoutrements upon the floor, there was not a particle of dust to be +seen anywhere. As they sat down at the mother's bidding, it was hard to +persuade themselves that Maurice von Lynar was far off, enduring the +hardships of war or in deadly peril for his mistress. He might have been +even then in hiding in the brushwood, ready to cry bo-peep at them +through the open door. + +There was silence in the arbour for a space, a silence which no one of +the three was anxious to break. For Joan thought of her promise, Conrad +of Joan, and Theresa of her son. It was the last who spoke. + +"Somehow to-day it is borne in upon me that Kernsberg has fallen, and +that my son is in his enemy's hands!" + +Joan started to her feet and thrust her hands a little out in front of +her as if to ward off a blow. + +"How can you know that?" she cried. "Who----No; it cannot be. Kernsberg +was victualled for a year. It was filled with brave men. My captains are +staunch. The thing is impossible." + +Theresa von Lynar, with her eyes on the waving foliage which alternately +revealed and eclipsed the ruddy globes of the apples on the orchard +trees, slowly shook her head. + +"I cannot tell you how I know," she said; "nevertheless I know. Here is +something which tells me." She laid her hand upon her heart. "Those who +are long alone beside the sea hear voices and see visions." + +"But it is impossible," urged Joan; "or, if it be true, why am I kept +here? I will go and die with my people!" + +"It is my son's will," said Theresa--"the will of the son of Henry the +Lion. He is like his father--therefore women do his will!" + +The words were not spoken bitterly, but as a simple statement of fact. + +Joan looked at this woman and understood for the first time that she was +the strongest spirit of all--greater than her father, better than +herself. And perhaps because of this, nobility and sacrifice stirred +emulously in her own breast. + +"Madam," she said, looking directly at Theresa von Lynar, "it is time +that you and I understood each other. I hold myself no true Duchess of +Hohenstein so long as your son lives. My father's compact and condition +are of no effect. The Diet of the Empire would cancel them in a moment. +I will therefore take no rest till this thing is made clear. I swear +that your son shall be Duke Maurice and sit in his father's place, as is +right and fitting. For me, I ask nothing but the daughter's portion--a +grange such as this, as solitary and as peaceful, a garden to delve and +a beach to wander upon at eve!" + +As she spoke, Theresa's eyes suddenly brightened. A proud high look sat +on the fulness of her lips, which gradually faded as some other thought +asserted its supremacy. She rose, and going straight to Joan, for the +first time she kissed her on the brow. + +"Now do I know," she said, "that you are Henry the Lion's daughter. That +is spoken as he would have spoken it. It is greatly thought. Yet it +cannot be." + +"It shall be!" cried Joan imperiously. + +"Nay," returned Theresa von Lynar. "Once on a time I would have given my +right hand that for half a day, for one hour, men might have said of me +that I was Henry the Lion's wife, and my son his son! It would have been +right sweet. Ah God, how sweet it would have been!" She paused a moment +as if consulting some unseen presence. "No, I have vowed my vow. Here +was I bidden to stay and here will I abide. For me there was no sorrow +in any hard condition, so long as _he_ laid it upon me. For have I not +tasted with him the glory of life, and with him plucked out the heart of +the mystery? That for which I paid, I received. My lips have tasted both +of the Tree of Knowledge and of the Tree of Life--for these two grow +very close together, the one to the other, upon the banks of the River +of Death. But for my son, this thing is harder to give up. For on him +lies the stain, though the joy and the sin were mine alone." + +"Maurice of Hohenstein shall sit in his father's seat," said Joan +firmly. "I have sworn it. If I live I will see him settled there with my +captains about him. Werner von Orseln is an honest man. He will do him +justice. Von Dessauer shall get him recognised, and Hugo of Plassenburg +shall stand his sponsor before the Diet of the Empire." + +"I would it could be so," said Theresa wistfully. "If my death could +cause this thing righteously to come to pass, how gladly would I end +life! But I am bound by an oath, and my son is bound because I am bound. +The tribunal is not the Diet of Ratisbon, but the faithfulness of a +woman's heart. Have I been loyal to my prince these many years, so that +now shame itself sits on my brow as gladly as a crown of bay, that I +should fail him now? Low he lies, and I may never stand beside his +sepulchre. No son of mine shall sit in his high chair. But if in any +sphere of sinful or imperfect spirits, be it hell or purgatory, he and I +shall encounter, think you that for an empire I would meet him shamed. +And when he says, 'Woman of my love, hast thou kept thy troth?' shall I +be compelled to answer 'No?'" + +"But," urged Joan, "this thing is your son's birthright. My father, for +purposes of state, bound my happiness to a man I loathe. I have cast +that band to the winds. The fathers cannot bind the children, no more +can you disinherit your son." + +Theresa von Lynar smiled a sad wise smile, infinitely patient, +infinitely remote. + +"Ah," she said, "you think so? You are young. You have never loved. You +are his daughter, not his wife. One day you shall know, if God is good +to you!" + +At this Joan smiled in her turn. She knew what she knew. + +"You may think you know," returned Theresa, her calm eyes on the girl's +face, "but what _I_ mean by loving is another matter. The band you broke +you did not make. I keep the vow I made. With clear eye, undulled brain, +willing hand I made it--because he willed it. Let my son Maurice break +it, if he can, if he will--as you have broken yours. Only let him never +more call Theresa von Lynar mother!" + +Joan rose to depart. Her intent had not been shaken, though she was +impressed by the noble heart of the woman who had been her father's +wife. But she also had vowed a vow, and that vow she would keep. The +Sparhawk should yet be the Eagle of Kernsberg, and she, Joan, a +home-keeping housewife nested in quietness, a barn-door fowl about the +orchards of Isle Rugen. + +"Madam," she said, "your word is your word. But so is that of Joan of +Kernsberg. It may be that out of the unseen there may leap a chance +which shall bring all to pass, the things which we both desire--without +breaking of vows or loosing of the bands of obligation. For me, being no +more than a daughter, I will keep Duke Henry's will only in that which +is just!" + +"And I," said Theresa von Lynar, "will keep it, just or unjust!" + +Yet Joan smiled as she went out. For she had been countered and +checkmated in sacrifice. She had met a nature greater than her own, and +that with the truly noble is the pleasure of pleasures. In such things +only the small are small, only the worms of the earth delight to crawl +upon the earth. The great and the wise look up and worship the sun above +them. And if by chance their special sun prove after all to be but a +star, they say, "Ah, if we had only been near enough it would have been +a sun!" + +All the while Conrad sat very still, listening with full heart to that +which it did not concern him to interrupt. But within his heart he said, +"Woman, when she is true woman, is greater, worthier, fuller than any +man--aye, were it the Holy Father himself. Perhaps because they draw +near Christ the Son through Mary the Mother!" + +But Theresa von Lynar sat silent, and watched the girl as she went down +the long path, the leafy branches spattering alternate light and shadow +upon her slender figure. Then she turned sharply upon Conrad. + +"And now, my Lord Cardinal," she said, "what have you been saying to my +husband's daughter?" + +"I have been telling her that I love her!" answered Conrad simply. He +felt that what he had listened to gave this woman a right to be +answered. + +"And what, I pray you, have princes of Holy Church to do with love? They +seek after heavenly things, do they not? Like the angels, they neither +marry nor are given in marriage." + +"I know," said Conrad humbly, and without taking the least offence. "I +know it well. But I have put off the armour I had not proven. The burden +is too great for me. I am a soldier--I was trained a soldier--yet +because I was born after my brother Louis, I must perforce become both +priest and cardinal. Rather a thousand times would I be a man-at-arms +and carry a pike!" + +"Then am I to understand that as a soldier you told the Duchess Joan +that you loved her, and that as a priest you forbade the banns? Or did +you wholly forget the little circumstance that once on a time you +yourself married her to your brother?" + +"I did indeed forget," said Conrad, with sincere penitence; "yet you +must not blame me too sorely. I was carried out of myself----" + +"The Duchess, then, rejected your suit with contumely?" + +Conrad was silent. + +"How should a great lady listen to her husband's brother--and he a +priest?" Theresa went on remorseless. "What said the Lady Joan when you +told her that you loved her?" + +"The words she spoke I cannot repeat, but when she ended I set my lips +to her garment's hem as reverently as ever to holy bread." + +The slow smile came again over the face of Theresa von Lynar, the smile +of a warworn veteran who watches the children at their drill. + +"You do not need to tell me what she answered, my lord," she said, for +the first time leaving out the ecclesiastic title. "I know!" + +Conrad stared at the woman. + +"She told you that she loved you from the first." + +"How know you that?" he faltered. "None must hear that secret--none must +guess it!" + +Theresa von Lynar laughed a little mellow laugh, in which a keen ear +might have detected how richly and pleasantly her laugh must once have +sounded to her lover when all her pulses beat to the tune of gladness +and the unbound heart. + +"Do you think to deceive me, Theresa, whom Henry the Lion loved? Have I +been these many weeks with you two in the house and not seen this? +Prince Conrad, I knew it that night of the storm when she bent her over +the couch on which you lay. 'I love,' you say boldly, and you think +great things of your love. But she loved first as she will love most, +and your boasted love will never overtake hers--no, not though you love +her all your life.... Well, what do you propose to do?" + +Conrad stood a moment mutely wrestling with himself. He had never felt +Joan's first instinctive aversion to this woman, a dislike even yet +scarcely overcome--for women distrust women till they have proven +themselves innocent, and often even then. + +"My lady," he said, "the Duchess Joan has showed me the better way. Like +a man, I knew not what I asked, nor dared to express all that I desired. +But I have learned how souls can be united, though bodies are +separated. I will not touch her hand; I will not kiss her lips. Once a +year only will I see her in the flesh. I shall carry out my duty, made +at least less unworthy by her example----" + +"And think you," said Theresa, "that in the night watches you will keep +this charge? Will not her face come between you and the altar? Will not +her image float before you as you kneel at the shrine? Will it not blot +out the lines as you read your daily office?" + +"I know it--I know it too well!" said Conrad, sinking his head on his +breast. "I am not worthy." + +"What, then, will you do? Can you serve two masters?" persisted the +inquisitor. "Your Scripture says not." + +A larger self seemed to flame and dilate within the young man. + +"One thing I can do," he said--"like you, I can obey. She bade me go +back and do my duty. I cannot bind my thought; I cannot change my heart; +I cannot cast my love out. I have heard that which I have heard, and I +cannot forget; but at least with the body I can obey. I will perform my +vow; I will keep my charge to the letter, every jot and tittle. And if +God condemn me for a hypocrite--well, let Him! He, and not I, put this +love into my heart. My body may be my priesthood's--I will strive to +keep it clean--but my soul is my lady's. For that let Him cast both soul +and body into hell-fire if He will!" + +Theresa von Lynar did not smile any more. She held out her hand to +Conrad of Courtland, priest and prince. + +"Yes," she said, "you do know what love is. In so far as I can I will +help you to your heart's desire." + +And in her turn she rose and passed down through the leafy avenues of +the orchard, over which the westering sun was already casting rood-long +shadows. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +THE WORDLESS MAN TAKES A PRISONER + + +It was the hour of the evening meal at Isle Rugen. The September day +piped on to its melancholy close, and the wild geese overhead called +down unseen from the upper air a warning that the storm followed hard +upon their backs. At the table-head sat Theresa von Lynar, her largely +moulded and beautiful face showing no sign of emotion. Only great quiet +dwelt upon it, with knowledge and the sympathy of the proven for the +untried. On either side of her were Joan and Prince Conrad--not sad, +neither avoiding nor seeking the contingence of eye and eye, but yet, in +spite of all, so strange a thing is love once declared, consciously +happy within their heart of hearts. + +Then, after a space dutifully left unoccupied, came Captains Boris and +Jorian; while at the table-foot, opposite to their hostess, towered +Werner von Orseln, whose grey beard had wagged at the more riotous board +of Henry the Lion of Hohenstein. + +Werner was telling an interminable story of the old wars, with many a +"Thus said I" and "So did he," ending thus: "There lay I on my back, +with thirty pagan Wends ready to slit my hals as soon as they could get +their knives between my gorget and headpiece. Gott! but I said every +prayer that I knew--they were not many in those days--all in two +minutes' space, as I lay looking at the sky through my visor bars and +waiting for the first prick of the Wendish knife-points. + +"But even as I looked up, lo! some one bestrode me, and the voice I +loved best in all the world--no, not a woman's, God send him rest" +("Amen!" interjected the Lady Joan)--"cried, 'To me, Hohenstein! To me, +Kernsberg!' And though my head was ringing with the shock of falling, +and my body weak from many wounds, I strove to answer that call, as I +saw my master's sword flicker this way and that over my head. I rose +half from the ground, my hilt still in my hand--I had no more left after +the fight I had fought. But Henry the Lion gave me a stamp down with his +foot. 'Lie still, man,' he said; 'do not interfere in a little business +of this kind!' And with his one point he kept a score at bay, crying all +the time, 'To me, Hohenstein! To me, Kernsbergers all!' + +"And when the enemy fled, did he wait till the bearers came? Well I wot, +hardly! Instead, he caught me over his shoulder like an empty sack when +one goes a-foraging--me, Werner von Orseln, that am built like a donjon +tower. And with his sword still red in his right hand he bore me in, +only turning aside a little to threaten a Wendish archer who would have +sent an arrow through me on the way. By the knights who sit round Karl's +table, he was a man!" + +And then to their feet sprang Boris and Jorian, who were judges of men. + +"To Prince Henry the Lion--_hoch!_" they cried. "Drink it deep to his +memory!" + +And with tankard and wreathed wine-cup they quaffed to the great dead. +Standing up, they drank--his daughter also--all save Theresa von Lynar. +She sat unmoved, as if the toast had been her own and in a moment more +she must rise to give them thanks. For the look on her face said, "After +all, what is there so strange in that? Was he not Henry the Lion--and +mine?" + +For there is no joy like that which you may see on a woman's face when a +great deed is told of the man she loves. + +The Kernsberg soldiers who had been trained to serve at table, had +stopped and stood fixed, their duties in complete oblivion during the +tale, but now they resumed them and the simple feast continued. +Meanwhile it had been growing wilder and wilder without, and the shrill +lament of the wind was distinctly heard in the wide chimney-top. Now and +then in a lull, broad splashes of rain fell solidly into the red embers +with a sound like musket balls "spatting" on a wall. + +Then Theresa von Lynar looked up. + +"Where is Max Ulrich?" she said; "why does he delay?" + +"My lady," one of the men of Kernsberg answered, saluting; "he is gone +across the Haff in the boat, and has not yet returned." + +"I will go and look for him--nay, do not rise, my lord. I would go forth +alone!" + +So, snatching a cloak from the prong of an antler in the hall, Theresa +went out into the irregular hooting of the storm. It was not yet the +deepest gloaming, but dull grey clouds like hunted cattle scoured across +the sky, and the rising thunder of the waves on the shingle prophesied a +night of storm. Theresa stood a long time bare-headed, enjoying the +thresh of the broad drops as they struck against her face and cooled her +throbbing eyes. Then she pulled the hood of the cloak over her head. + +The dead was conquering the quick within her. + +"I have known a _man_!" she said; "what need I more with life now? The +man I loved is dead. I thank God that I served him--aye, as his dog +served him. And shall I grow disobedient now? No, not that my son might +sit on the throne of the Kaiser!" + +Theresa stood upon the inner curve of the Haff at the place where Max +Ulrich was wont to pull his boat ashore. The wind was behind her, and +though the waves increased as the distance widened from the pebbly bank +on which she stood, the water at her feet was only ruffled and pitted +with little dimples under the shocks of the wind. Theresa looked long +southward under her hand, but for the moment could see nothing. + +Then she settled herself to keep watch, with the storm riding slack-rein +overhead. Towards the mainland the whoop and roar with which it +assaulted the pine forests deafened her ears. But her face was younger +than we have ever seen it, for Werner's story had moved her strongly. +Once more she was by a great man's side. She moved her hand swiftly, +first out of the shelter of the cloak as if seeking furtively to nestle +it in another's, and then, as the raindrops plashed cold upon it, she +drew it slowly back to her again. + +And though Theresa von Lynar was yet in the prime of her glorious +beauty, one could see what she must have been in the days of her +girlhood. And as memory caused her eyes to grow misty, and the smile of +love and trust eternal came upon her lips, twenty years were shorn away; +and the woman's face which had looked anxiously across the darkening +Haff changed to that of the girl who from the gate of Castle Lynar had +watched for the coming of Duke Henry. + +She was gazing steadfastly southward, but it was not for Max the +Wordless that she waited. Towards Kernsberg, where he whose sleep she +had so often watched, rested all alone, she looked and kissed a hand. + +"Dear," she murmured, "you have not forgotten Theresa! You know she +keeps troth! Aye, and will keep it till God grows kind, and your true +wife can follow--to tell you how well she hath kept her charge!" + +Awhile she was silent, and then she went on in the low even voice of +self-communing. + +"What to me is it to become a princess? Did not he, for whose words +alone I cared, call me his queen? And I was his queen. In the black +blank day of my uttermost need he made me his wife. And I am his wife. +What want I more with dignities?" + +Theresa von Lynar was silent awhile and then she added-- + +"Yet the young Duchess, his daughter, means well. She has her father's +spirit. And my son--why should my vow bind him? Let him be Duke, if so +the Fates direct and Providence allow. But for me, I will not stir +finger or utter word to help him. There shall be neither anger nor +sadness in my husband's eyes when I tell him how I have observed the +bond!" + +Again she kissed a hand towards the dead man who lay so deep under the +ponderous marble at Kernsberg. Then with a gracious gesture, lingeringly +and with the misty eyes of loving womanhood, she said her lonely +farewells. + +"To you, beloved," she murmured, and her voice was low and very rich, +"to you, beloved, where far off you lie! Sleep sound, nor think the time +long till Theresa comes to you!" + +She turned and walked back facing the storm. Her hood had long ago been +blown from her head by the furious gusts of wind. But she heeded not. +She had forgotten poor Max Ulrich and Joan, and even herself. She had +forgotten her son. Her hand was out in the storm now. She did not draw +it back, though the water ran from her fingertips. For it was clasped in +an unseen grasp and in an ear that surely heard she was whispering her +heart's troth. "God give it to me to do one deed--one only before I +die--that, worthy and unashamed, I may meet my King." + +When Theresa re-entered the hall of the grange the company still sat as +she had left them. Only at the lower end of the board the three captains +conferred together in low voices, while at the upper Joan and Prince +Conrad sat gazing full at each other as if souls could be drunk in +through the eyes. + +With a certain reluctance which yet had no shame in it, they plucked +glance from glance as she entered, as it were with difficulty detaching +spirits which had been joined. At which Theresa, recalled to herself, +smiled. + +"In all that touches not my vow I will help you two!" she thought, as +she looked at them. For true love came closer to her than anything else +in the world. + +"There is no sign of Max," she said aloud, to break the first silence of +constraint; "perhaps he has waited at the landing-place on the mainland +till the storm should abate--though that were scarce like him, either." + +She sat down, with one large movement of her arm casting her wet cloak +over the back of a wooden settle, which fronted a fireplace where green +pine knots crackled and explosive jets of steam rushed spitefully +outwards into the hall with a hissing sound. + +"You have been down at the landing-place--on such a night?" said Joan, +with some remains of that curious awkwardness which marks the +interruption of a more interesting conversation. + +"Yes," said Theresa, smiling indulgently (for she had been in like +case--such a great while ago, when her brothers used to intrude). "Yes, +I have been at the landing-place. But as yet the storm is nothing, +though the waves will be fierce enough if Max Ulrich is coming home with +a laden boat to pull in the wind's eye." + +It mattered little what she said. She had helped them to pass the bar, +and the conversation could now proceed over smooth waters. + +Yet there is no need to report it. Joan and Conrad remained and spoke +they scarce knew what, all for the pleasure of eye answering eye, and +the subtle flattery of voices that altered by the millionth of a tone +each time they answered each other. Theresa spoke vaguely but +sufficiently, and allowed herself to dream, till to her yearning gaze +honest, sturdy Werner grew misty and his bluff figure resolved itself +into that one nobler and more kingly which for years had fronted her at +the table's end where now the chief captain sat. + +Meanwhile Jorian and Boris exchanged meaning and covert glances, asking +each other when this dull dinner parade would be over, so that they +might loosen leathern points, undo buttons, and stretch legs on benches +with a tankard of ale at each right elbow, according to the wont of +stout war-captains not quite so young as they once were. + +Thus they were sitting when there came a clamour at the outer door, the +noise of voices, then a soldier's challenge, and, on the back of that, +Max Ulrich's weird answer--a sound almost like the howl of a wolf cut +off short in his throat by the hand that strangles him. + +"There he is at last!" cried all in the dining-hall of the grange. + +"Thank God!" murmured Theresa. For the man wanting words had known Henry +the Lion. + +They waited a long moment of suspense till the door behind Werner was +thrust open and the dumb man came in, drenched and dripping. He was +holding one by the arm, a man as tall as himself, grey and gaunt, who +fronted the company with eyes bandaged and hands tied behind his back. +Max Ulrich had a sharp knife in his hand with a thin and slightly curved +blade, and as he thrust the pinioned man before him into the full light +of the candles, he made signs that, if his lady wished it, he was +prepared to despatch his prisoner on the spot. His lips moved rapidly +and he seemed to be forming words and sentences. His mistress followed +these movements with the closest attention. + +"He says," she began to translate, "that he met this man on the further +side. He said that he had a message for Isle Rugen, and refused to turn +back on any condition. So Max blindfolded, bound, and gagged him, he +being willing to be bound. And now he waits our pleasure." + +"Let him be unloosed," said Joan, gazing eagerly at the prisoner, and +Theresa made the sign. + +Stolidly Ulrich unbound the broad bandage from the man's eyes, and a +grey badger's brush of upright stubble rose slowly erect above a high +narrow brow, like laid corn that dries in the sun. + +"Alt Pikker!" said Joan of the Sword Hand, starting to her feet. + +"Alt Pikker!" cried in varied tones of wonderment Werner von Orseln and +the two captains of Plassenburg, Jorian and Boris. + +And Alt Pikker it surely was. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +TO THE RESCUE + + +But the late prisoner did not speak at once, though his captor stood +back as though to permit him to explain himself. He was still bound and +gagged. Discovering which, Max in a very philosophical and leisurely +manner assisted him to relieve himself of a rolled kerchief which had +been placed in his mouth. + +Even then his throat refused its office till Werner von Orseln handed +him a great cup of wine from which he drank deeply. + +"Speak!" said Joan. "What disaster has brought you here? Is Kernsberg +taken?" + +"The Eagle's Nest is harried, my lady, but that is not what hath brought +me hither!" + +"Have they found out this my--prison? Are they coming to capture me?" + +"Neither," returned Alt Pikker. "Maurice von Lynar is in the hands of +his cruel enemies, and on the day after to-morrow, at sunrise, he is to +be torn to pieces by wild horses." + +"Why?" "Wherefore?" "In what place?" "Who would dare?" came from all +about the table; but the mother of the young man sat silent as if she +had not heard. + +"To save Kernsberg from sack by the Muscovites, Maurice von Lynar went +to Courtland in the guise of the Lady Joan. At the fords of the Alla we +delivered him up!" + +"You delivered him up?" cried Theresa suddenly. "Then you shall die! Max +Ulrich, your knife!" + +The dumb man gave the knife in a moment, but Theresa had not time to +approach. + +"I went with him," said Alt Pikker calmly. + +"You went with him," repeated his mother after a moment, not +understanding. + +"Could I let the young man go alone into the midst of his enemies?" + +"He went for my sake!" moaned Joan. "He is to die for me!" + +"Nay," corrected Alt Pikker, "he is to die for wedding the Princess +Margaret of Courtland!" + +Again they cried out upon him in utmost astonishment--that is, all the +men. + +"Maurice von Lynar has married the Princess Margaret of Courtland? +Impossible!" + +"And why should he not?" his mother cried out. + +"I expected it from the first!" quoth Joan of the Sword Hand, disdainful +of their masculine ignorance. + +"Well," put in Alt Pikker, "at all events, he hath married the Princess. +Or she has married him, which is the same thing!" + +"But why? We knew nothing of this! He told us nothing. We thought he +went for our lady's sake to Courtland! Why did he marry her?" cried +severally Von Orseln and the Plassenburg captains. + +"Why?" said Theresa the mother, with assurance. "Because he loved her +doubtless. How? Because he was his father's son!" + +And Theresa being calm and stilling the others, Alt Pikker got time to +tell his tale. There was silence in the grange of Isle Rugen while it +was being told, and even when it was ended for a space none spoke. But +Theresa smiled well pleased and said in her heart, "I thank God! My son +also shall meet Henry the Lion face to face and not be ashamed." + +After that they made their plans. + +"I will go," said Conrad, "for I have influence with my brother--or, if +not with him, at least with the folk of Courtland. We will stop this +heathenish abomination." + +"I will go," said Theresa, "because he is my son. God will show me a way +to help him." + +"We will all go," chorussed the captains; "that is--all save Werner----" + +"All except Boris----!" + +"All except Jorian----!" + +"Who will remain here on Isle Rugen with the Duchess Joan?" They looked +at each other as they spoke. + +"You need not trouble yourselves! I will not remain on Isle Rugen--not +an hour," said Joan. "Whoever stays, I go. Think you that I will permit +this man to die in my stead? We will all go to Courtland. We will tell +Prince Louis that I am no duchess, but only the sister of a duke. We +will prove to him that my father's bond of heritage-brotherhood is null +and void. And then we will see whether he is willing to turn the +princedom upside down for such a dowerless wife as I!" + +"For such a wife," thought Conrad, "I would turn the universe upside +down, though she stood in a beggar's kirtle!" + +But being loyally bound by his promise he said nothing. + +It was Theresa von Lynar who put the matter practically. + +"At a farm on the mainland, hidden among the salt marshes, there are +horses--those you brought with you and others. They are in waiting for +such an emergency. Max will bring them to the landing-place. Three or +four of your guard must accompany him. The rest will make ready, and at +the first hint of dawn we will set out. There is yet time to save my +son!" + +She added in her heart, "Or, if not, then to avenge him." + +Strangely enough, Theresa was the least downcast of the party. Death +seemed a thing so little to her, even so desirable, that though the +matter concerned her son's life, she commanded herself and laid her +plans as coolly as if she had been preparing a dinner in the grange of +Isle Rugen. + +But her heart was proud within her with a great pride. + +"He is Henry the Lion's son. He was born a duke. He has married a +princess. He has tasted love and known sacrifice. If he dies it will be +for the sake of his sister's honour. 'Tis no bad record for twenty +years. These things _he_ will count high above fame and length of days!" + + * * * * * + +The little company which set out from Isle Rugen to ride to Courtland +had no thought or intention of rescuing Maurice von Lynar by force of +arms. They knew their own impotence far too exactly. Yet each of the +leaders had a plan of action thought out, to be pursued when the city +was reached. + +If her renunciation of her dignities were laughed at, as she feared, +there was nothing for Joan but to deliver herself to Prince Louis. She +had resolved to promise to be his wife and princess in all that it +concerned the outer world to see. Their provinces would be united, +Kernsberg and Hohenstein delivered unconditionally into his hand. + +On his part, Werner von Orseln was prepared to point out to the Prince +of Courtland that with Joan as his wife and the armies and levies of +Hohenstein added to his own under the Sparhawk's leadership, he would be +in a position to do without the aid of the Prince of Muscovy altogether. +Further, that in case of attack from the north, not only Plassenburg and +the Mark, but all the Teutonic Bond must rally to his side. + +Boris and Jorian, being stout-hearted captains of men-at-arms, were +ready for anything. But though their swords were loosened in their +sheaths to be prepared for any assault, they were resolved also to give +what official dignity they could to their mission by a free use of the +names of their master and mistress, the Prince Hugo and Princess Helene +of Plassenburg. They were sorry now that they had left their +credentials behind them, at Kernsberg, but they meant to make confidence +and assured countenances go as far as they would. + +Conrad, who was intimately acquainted with the character of his brother, +and who knew how entirely he was under the dominion of Prince Ivan, had +resolved to use all powers, ecclesiastical and secular, which his +position as titular Prince of the Church put within his reach. To save +the Sparhawk from a bloody and disgraceful death he would invoke upon +Courtland even the dread curse of the Greater Excommunication. With his +faithful priests around him he would seek his brother, and, if +necessary, on the very execution place itself, or from the high altar of +the cathedral, pronounce the dread "Anathema sit." He knew his brother +well enough to be sure that this threat would shake his soul with +terror, and that such a curse laid on a city like Courtland, not too +subservient at any time, would provoke a rebellion which would shake the +power of princes far more securely seated than Prince Louis. + +The only one of the party wholly without a settled plan was the woman +most deeply interested. Theresa von Lynar simply rode to Courtland to +save her son or to die with him. She alone had no influence with Prince +Ivan, no weapon to use against him except her woman's wit. + +As the cavalcade rode on, though few, they made a not ungallant show. +For Theresa had clad Prince Conrad in a coat of mail which had once +belonged to Henry the Lion. Joan glittered by his side in a corselet of +steel rings, while Werner von Orseln and the two captains of Plassenburg +followed fully armed, their accoutrements shining with the burnishing of +many idle weeks. These, with the men-at-arms behind them, made up such +an equipage as few princes could ride abroad with. But to all of them +the journey was naught, a mere race against time--so neither horse nor +man was spared. And the two women held out best of all. + +But when in the morning light of the second day they came in sight of +Courtland, and saw on the green plain of the Alla a great concourse, it +did not need Alt Pikker's shout to urge them forward at a gallop, lest +after all they should arrive too late. + +"They have brought him out to die," cried Joan. "Ride, for the young +man's life!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +THE UKRAINE CROSS + + +Upon the green plain beside the Alla a great multitude was assembled. +They had come together to witness a sight never seen in Courtland +before--the dread punishment of the Ukraine Cross. It was to be done, +they said, upon the body of the handsome youth with whom the Princess +Margaret was secretly in love--some even whispered married to him. + +The townsfolk murmured among themselves. This was certainly the +beginning of the end. Who knew what would come next? If the barbarous +Muscovite punishments began in Courtland, it would end in all of them +being made slaves, liable at any moment to knout and plet. Ivan had +bewitched the Prince. That was clear, and for a certainty the Princess +Margaret wept night and day. In this fashion ran the bruit of that which +was to be. + +"Torn to pieces by wild horses!" It was a thing often talked about, but +one which none had seen in a civilised country for a thousand years. +Where was it to be done? It was shocking, terrible; but--it would be +worth seeing. So all the city went out, the men with weapons under their +cloaks pressing as near as the soldiers would allow them, while the +women, being more pitiful, stood afar off and wept into their +aprons--only putting aside the corners that they might see clearly and +miss nothing. + +At ten a great green square of riverside grass was held by the archers +of Courtland. The people extended as far back as the shrine of the +Virgin, where at the city entrance travellers are wont to give thanks +for a favourable journey. At eleven the lances of Prince Ivan's Cossacks +were seen topping the city wall. On the high bank of the Alla the people +were craning their necks and looking over each other's shoulders. + +The wild music of the Cossacks came nearer, each man with the butt of +his lance set upon his thigh, and the pennon of blue and white waving +above. Then a long pitying "A--a--h!" went up from the people. For now +the Sparhawk was in sight, and at the first glimpse of him they swayed +from the Riga Gate to the shrine of John Evangelist, like a willow copse +stricken by a squall from off the Baltic, so that it shows the +under-grey of its leaves. + +"The poor lad! So handsome, so young!" + +The first soft universal hush of pity broke presently into a myriad +exclamations of anger and deprecation. "How high he holds his head! See! +They have opened his shirt at the neck. Poor Princess, how she must love +him! His hands are tied behind his back. He rides in that jolting cart +as if he were a conqueror in a triumphal procession, instead of a victim +going to his doom." + +"Pity, pity that one so young should die such a death! They say she is +to be carried up to the top of the Castle wall that she may see. Ah, +here he comes! He is smiling! God forgive the butchers, who by strength +of brute beasts would tear asunder those comely limbs that are fitted to +be a woman's joy! Down with all false and cruel princes, say I! Nay, +mistress, I will not be silent. And there are many here who will back +me, if I be called in question. Who is the Muscovite, that he should +bring his abominations into Courtland? If I had my way, Prince +Conrad----" + +"Hush, hush! Here they come! Side by side, as usual, the devil and his +dupe. Aha! there is no sound of cheering! Let but a man shout, 'Long +live the Prince!' and I will slit his wizzand. I, Henry the +coppersmith, will do it! He shall sleep with pennies on his eyes this +night!" + +So through the lane by which the city gate communicated with the +tapestried stand set apart for the greater spectators, the Princes Louis +and Ivan, fool and knave, servant and master, took their way. And they +had scarce passed when the people, mutinous and muttering, surged black +behind the archers' guard. + +"Back there--stand back! Way for their Excellencies--way!" + +"Stand back yourselves," came the growling answer. "We be free men of +Courtland. You will find we are no Muscovite serfs, and that or the day +be done. Karl Wendelin, think shame--thou that art my sister's son--to +be aiding and abetting such heathen cruelty to a Christen man, all that +you may eat a great man's meat and wear a jerkin purfled with gold." + +Such cries and others worse pursued the Princes' train as it went. + +"Cossack--Cossack! You are no Courtlanders, you archers! Not a girl in +the city will look at you after this! Butchers' slaughtermen every one? +Whipped hounds that are afraid of ten score Muscovites! Down, dogs, +knock your foreheads on the ground! Here comes a Muscovite!" + + * * * * * + +Thus angrily ran taunt and jeer, till the Courtland guard, mostly young +fellows with relatives and sweethearts among the crowd, grew well-nigh +frantic with rage and shame. The rabble, which had hung on the Prince of +Muscovy so long as he scattered his largesse, had now wheeled about with +characteristic fickleness. + +"See yonder! What are they doing? Peter Altmaar, what are they doing? +Tell us, thou long man! Of what use is your great fathom of pump-water? +Can you do nothing for your meat but reach down black puddings from the +rafters?" + +At this all eyes turned to Peter, a lanky overgrown lad with a keen eye, +a weak mouth, and the gift of words. + +"Speak up, Peter! Aye, listen to Peter--a good lad, Peter, as ever was!" + +"Strong Jan the smith, take him up on your back so that he may see the +better!" + +"Hush, there! Stop that woman weeping. We cannot hear for her noise. She +says he is like her son, does she? Well then, there will be time enough +to weep for him afterwards." + +"They are bringing up four horses from the Muscovite camp. The folk are +getting as far off as they can from their heels," began Peter Altmaar, +looking under his hand over the people's heads. "Half a score of men are +at each brute's head. How they plunge! They will never stand still a +moment. Ah, they are tethering them to the great posts of stone in the +middle of the green square. Between, there is a table--no, a kind of +square wooden stand like a priest's platform in Lent when he tells us +our sins outside the church." + + * * * * * + +"The Princes are sitting their horses, watching. Bravo, that was well +done. We came near to seeing the colour of the Muscovite brains that +time. One of the wild horses spread his hoofs on either side of Prince +Ivan's head!" + +"God send him a better aim next time! Tell on, Peter! Aye, get on, good +Peter!" + +"The Princes have gone up into their balcony. They are laughing and +talking as if it were a raree-show!" + +"What of him, good Peter? How takes he all this?" + +"What of whom?" queried Peter, who, like all great talkers, was rapidly +growing testy under questioning. + +"There is but one 'he' to-day, man. The young lad, the Princess +Margaret's sweetheart." + +"They have brought him down from the cart. The Cossacks are close about +him. They have put all the Courtland men far back." + +[Illustration: "Maurice was set on high." [_Page 305_]] + +"Aye, aye; they dare not trust them. Oh, for an hour of Prince Conrad! +If we of the city trades had but a leader, this shame should not blot +our name throughout all Christendom! What now, Peter?" + +"The Muscovites are binding the lad to a wooden frame like the empty +lintels of a door. He stands erect, his hands in the corners above, and +his feet in the corners below. They have stripped him to the waist." + +"Hold me higher up, Jan the smith! I would see this out, that you may +tell your children and your children's children. Aye--ah, so it is. It +is true. Sainted Virgin! I can see his body white in the sunshine. It +shines slender as a peeled willow wand." + +Then the woman who had wept began again. Her wailing angered the people. + +"He is like my son--save him! He is the very make and image of my +Kaspar. Slender as a young willow, supple as an ash, eyes like the +berries of the sloe-thorn. Give me a sword! Give an old woman a sword, +and I will deliver him myself, for my Kaspar's sake. God's grace--Is +there never a man amongst you?" + +And as her voice rose into a shriek there ran through all the multitude +the strange shiver of fear with which a great crowd expects a horror. A +hush fell broad and equal as dew out of a clear sky. A mighty silence +lay on all the folk. Peter Altmaar's lips moved, but no sound came from +them. For now Maurice was set on high, so that all could see for +themselves. White against the sky of noon, making the cross of Saint +Andrew within the oblong framework to which he was lashed, they could +discern the slim body of the young man who was about to be torn in +sunder. The executioners held him up thus a minute or two for a +spectacle, and then, their arrangements completed, they lowered that +living crucifix till it lay flat upon its little platform, with the +limbs extended stark and tense towards the heels of the wild plunging +horses of the Ukraine. + +Then again the voice of Peter Altmaar was heard, now ringing false like +an untuned fiddle. "They are welding the manacles upon his ankles and +wrists. Listen to the strokes of the hammer." + +And in the hush which followed, faintly and musically they could hear +iron ring on iron, like anvil strokes in some village smithy heard in +the hush of a summer's afternoon. + +"Blessed Virgin! they are casting loose the horses! A Cossack with a +cruel whip stands by each to lash him to fury! They are slipping the +platform from under him. God in heaven! What is this?" + + * * * * * + +Hitherto the eyes of the great multitude, which on three sides +surrounded the place of execution, had been turned inward. But now with +one accord they were gazing, not on the terrible preparations which were +coming so near their bloody consummation, but over the green +tree-studded Alla meads towards a group of horsemen who were approaching +at a swift hand-gallop. + +Whereupon immediately Peter, the lank giant, was in greater request than +ever. + +"What do they look at, good Peter--tell us quickly? Will the horses not +pull? Will the irons not hold? Have the ropes broken? Is it a miracle? +Is it a rescue? Thunder-weather, man! Do not stand and gape. Speak--tell +us what you see, or we will prod you behind with our daggers!" + +"Half a dozen riding fast towards the Princes' stand, and holding up +their hands--nay, there are a dozen. The Princes are standing up to +look. The men have stopped casting loose the wild horses. The man on the +frame is lying very still, but the chains from his ankles and arms are +not yet fastened to the traces." + +"Go on, Peter! How slow you are, Peter! Stupid Peter!" + +"There is a woman among those who ride--no, two of them! They are +getting near the skirts of the crowd. Men are shouting and throwing up +their hands in the air. I cannot tell what for. The soldiers have their +hats on the tops of their pikes. They, too, are shouting!" + +As Peter paused the confused noise of a multitude crying out, every man +for himself, was borne across the crowd on the wind. As when a great +stone is cast into a little hill-set tarn, and the wavelet runs round, +swamping the margin's pebbles and swaying the reeds, so there ran a +shiver, and then a mighty tidal wave of excitement through all that ring +which surrounded the crucified man, the deadly platform, and the +tethered horses. + +Men shouted sympathetically without knowing why, and the noise they made +was half a suppressed groan, so eager were they to take part in that +which should be done next. They thrust their womenkind behind them, +shouldering their way into the thick of the press that they might see +the more clearly. Instinctively every weaponed man fingered that which +he chanced to carry. Yet none in all that mighty assembly had the least +conception of what was really about to happen. + +By this time there was no more need of Peter Altmaar. The ring was +rapidly closing now all about, save upon the meadow side, where a lane +was kept open. Through this living alley came a knight and a lady--the +latter in riding habit and broad velvet cap, the knight with his visor +up, but armed from head to foot, a dozen squires and men-at-arms +following in a compact little cloud; and as they came they were greeted +with the enthusiastic acclaim of all that mighty concourse. + +About them eddied the people, overflowing and sweeping away the +Cossacks, carrying the Courtland archers with them in a mad frenzy of +fraternisation. In the stand above Prince Louis could be seen shrilling +commands, yet dumb show was all he could achieve, so universal the +clamour beneath him. But the Princess Margaret heard the shouting and +her heart leaped. + +"Prince Conrad--our own Prince Conrad, he has come back, our true +Prince? We knew he was no priest! Courtland for ever! Down with Louis +of the craven heart! Down with the Muscovite! The young man shall not +die! The Princess shall have her sweetheart!" + +And as soon as the cavalcade had come within the square the living wave +broke black over all. The riders could not dismount, so thick the press. +The halters of the wild horses were cut, and right speedily they made a +way for themselves, the people falling back and closing again so soon as +they had passed out across the plain with necks arched to their knees +and a wild flourish of unanimous hoofs. + +Then the cries began again. Swords and bare fists were shaken at the +grand stand, where, white as death, Prince Louis still kept his place. + +"Prince Conrad and the Lady Joan!" + +"Kill the Muscovite, the torturer!" + +"Death to Prince Louis, the traitor and coward!" + +"We will save the lad alive!" + +About the centre platform whereon the living cross was extended the +crush grew first oppressive and then dangerous. + +"Back there--you are killing him! Back, I say!" + +Then strong men took staves and halberts out of the hands of dazed +soldiermen, and by force of brawny arms and sharp pricking steel pressed +the people back breast high. The smiths who had riveted the wristlets +and ankle-rings were already busy with their files. The lashings were +cast loose from the frames. A hundred palms chafed the white swollen +limbs. A burgher back in the crowd slipped his cloak. It was passed +overhead on a thousand eager hands and thrown across the young man's +body. + +At last all was done, and dazed and blinded, but unshaken in his soul, +Maurice von Lynar stood totteringly upon his feet. + +"Lift him up! Lift him up! Let us see him! If he be dead, we will slay +Prince Louis and crucify the Muscovite in his place!" + +"Bah!" another would cry, "Louis is no longer ruler! Conrad is the true +Prince!" + +"Down with the Russ, the Cossack! Where are they? Pursue them! Kill +them!" + + * * * * * + +So ran the fierce shouts, and as the rescuers raised the Sparhawk high +on their plaited hands that all men might see, on the far skirts of the +crowd Ivan of Muscovy, with a bitter smile on his face, gathered +together his scattered horsemen. One by one they had struggled out of +the press while all men's eyes were fixed upon the vivid centrepiece of +that mighty whirlpool. + +"Set Prince Louis in your midst and ride for your lives!" he cried. "To +the frontier, where bides the army of the Czar!" + +With a flash of pennons and a tossing of horses' heads they obeyed, but +Prince Ivan himself paused upon the top of a little swelling rise and +looked back towards the Alla bank. + +The delivered prisoner was being held high upon men's arms. The +burgher's cloak was wrapped about him like a royal robe. + +Prince Ivan gnashed his teeth in impotent anger. + +"It is your day. Make the most of it," he muttered. "In three weeks I +will come back! And then, by Michael the Archangel, I will crucify one +of you at every street corner and cross-road through all the land of +Courtland! And that which I would have done to my lady's lover shall not +be named beside that which I shall yet do to those who rescued him!" + +And he turned and rode after his men, in the midst of whom was Prince +Louis, his head twisted in fear and apprehension over his shoulder, and +his slack hands scarce able to hold the reins. + +After this manner was the Sparhawk brought out from the jaws of death, +and thus came Joan of the Sword Hand the second time to Courtland. + +But the end was not yet. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +THE TRUTH-SPEAKING OF BORIS AND JORIAN + + +This is the report verbal of Captains Boris and Jorian, which they gave +in face of their sovereigns in the garden pleasaunce of the palace of +Plassenburg. Hugo and Helene sat at opposite ends of a seat of twisted +branches. Hugo crossed his legs and whistled low with his thumbs in the +slashing of his doublet, a habit of which Helene had long striven in +vain to cure him. The Princess was busy broidering the coronated double +eagle of a new banner, but occasionally she raised her eyes to where on +the green slope beneath, under the wing of a sage woman of experience, +the youthful hope of Plassenburg led his mimic armies to battle against +the lilies by the orchard wall, or laid lance in rest to storm the too +easy fortress of his nurse's lap. + +"Boris," whispered Jorian, "remember! Do not lie, Boris. 'Tis too +dangerous. You remember the last time?" + +"Aye," growled Boris. "I have good cause to remember! What a liar our +Hugo must have been in his time, so readily to suspect two honest +soldiers!" + +"Speak out your minds, good lads!" said Hugo, leaning a little further +back. + +"Aye, tell us all," assented Helene, pausing to shake her head at the +antics of the young Prince Karl; "tell us how you delivered the +Sparhawk, as you call him, the officer of the Duchess Joan!" + +So Boris saluted and began. + +"The tale is a long one, Prince and Princess," he said. "Of our many +and difficult endeavours to keep the peace and prevent quarrelling I +will say nothing----" + +"Better so!" interjected Hugo, with a gleam in his eye. Jorian coughed +and growled to himself, "That long fool will make a mess of it!" + +"I will pass on to our entry into Courtland. It was like the home-coming +of a long-lost true prince. There was no fighting--alack, not so much as +a stroke after all that pother of shouting!" + +"Boris!" said the Princess warningly. + +"Give him rope!" muttered Prince Hugo. "He will tangle himself rarely or +all be done!" + +"I mean by the blessing of Heaven there was no bloodshed," Boris +corrected himself. "There was, as I say, no fighting. There was none to +fight with. Prince Louis had not a friend in his own capital city, +saving the Muscovite. And at that moment Prince Ivan the Wasp was glad +enough to win clear off to the frontier with his Cossacks at his tail. +It was a God's pity we could not ride them down. But though Jorian and I +did all that men could----" + +"Ahem!" said Jorian, as if a fly had flown into his mouth and tickled +his throat. + +"I mean, your Highnesses, we did whatever men could to keep the populace +within bounds. But they broke through and leaped upon us, throwing their +arms about our horses' necks, crying out, 'Our saviours!' 'Our +deliverers!' God wot, we might as well have tried to charge through the +billows of the Baltic when it blows a norther right from the Gulf of +Bothnia! But it almost broke my heart to see them ride off with never so +much as a spear thrust through one single Muscovite belly-band!" + +Here Jorian had a fit of coughing which caused the Princess to look +severely upon him. Boris, recalled to himself, proceeded more carefully. + +"It was all we could do to open up a way to where the young man Maurice +lay stretched on the Cross of Death. They had loosed the wild horses +before we arrived, and these had galloped off after their companions. A +pity! Oh, a great pity! + +"Then came the young man's mother near, she who was our hostess at Isle +Rugen----" + +"Why did you not abide at Kernsberg as you were instructed?" put in Hugo +at this point. + +"Never mind--go on--tell the tale!" cried Helene, who was listening +breathlessly. + +"We thought it our duty to accompany the Duchess Joan," said Boris, +deftly enough; "where the king is, there is the court!" + +And at this point the two captains saluted very dutifully and +respectfully, like machines moved by one spring. + +"Well said for once, thou overly long one," growled Jorian under his +breath. + +"Go on!" commanded Helene. + +"The young man's mother came near and threw a cloak across his naked +body. Then Jorian and I unbound him and chafed his limbs, first removing +the gag from his mouth; but so tightly had the cords been bound about +him that for long he could not stand upright. Then, from the royal +pavilion, where she had been brought for cruel sport to see the death, +the Princess Margaret came running----" + +"Oh, wickedness!" cried Helene, "to make her look on at her lover's +death!" + +"She came furiously, though a dainty princess, thrusting strong men +aside. 'Way there!' she cried, 'on your lives make way! I will go to +him. I am the Princess Margaret. Give me a dagger and I will prick me a +way.'" + +"And, by Saint Stephen the holy martyr--if she did not snatch a bodkin +from the belt of a tailor in the High Street and with it open up her way +as featly as though she were handling a Cossack lance." + +"And what happened when she got to him--when she found her husband?" +cried Helene, her eyes sparkling. And she put out a hand to touch her +own, just to be sure that he was there. + +"Truth, a very wondrous thing happened!" said Jorian, whose fingers also +had been twitching, "a mightily wondrous thing. Thus it was----" + +"Hold your tongue, sausage-bag!" growled Boris, very low; "who tells +this tale, you or I?" + +"Get on, then," answered in like fashion Captain Jorian, "you are as +long-winded and wheezy as a smith's bellows!" + +"Yes, a strange thing it was. I was standing by Maurice von Lynar, +undoing the cord from his neck. His mother was chafing an arm. The Lady +Joan was bending to speak softly to him, for she had dismounted from her +horse, when, all in the snapping of a twig, the Princess Margaret came +bursting through the ring which Jorian and the Kernsbergers were keeping +with their lance-butts. She thrust us all aside. By my faith, me she +sent spinning like the young Prince's top there!" + +"God save his Excellency!" quoth Jorian, not to be left out entirely. + +"Silence!" cried Helene, with an imperious stamp of her little foot; +"and do you, Boris, tell the tale without comparisons. What happened +then?" + +"Only the boy's mother kept her ground! She went on chafing his arm +without so much as raising her eyes." + +"Did the Princess serve Joan of the Sword Hand as she served you?" +interposed Hugo. + +"Marry, worse!" cried Boris, growing excited for the first time. "She +thrust her aside like a kitchen wench, and our lady took it as meekly +as--as----" + +"Go on! Did I not tell you to spare us your comparatives?" cried Helene +the Princess, letting her broidery slip to the ground in her consuming +interest. + +"Well," said Boris, quickly sobered, "it was in truth a mighty quaint +thing to see. The Princess Margaret took the young man in her arms and +caught him to her. The Lady Theresa kept hold of his wrist. They looked +at each other a moment without speech, eye countering eye like knights +at a----" + +"Go on!" the Princess thundered, if indeed a silvern voice can be said +to thunder. + +"'Give him up to me! He is mine!' cried the Princess. + +"'He is mine!' answered very haughtily the lady of the Isle Rugen--'Who +are you?' 'And you?' cried both at once, flinging their heads back, but +never for a moment letting go with their hands. The youth, being dazed, +said nothing, nor so much as moved. + +"'I am his mother!' said the Lady Theresa, speaking first. + +"'I am his wife!' said the Princess. + +"Then the woman who had borne the young man gave him into his wife's +arms without a word, and the Princess gathered him to her bosom and +crooned over him, that being her right. But his mother stepped back +among the crowd and drew the hood of her cloak over her head that no man +might look upon her face." + +"Bravo!" cried Helene, clapping her hands, "it was her right!" + +"Little one," said her husband, pointing to the boy on the terrace +beneath, who was lashing a toy horse of wood with all his baby might, "I +wonder if you will think so when another woman takes _him_ from you!" + +The Princess Helene caught her breath sharply. + +"That would be different!" she said, "yes, very different!" + +"Ah!" said Hugo the Prince, her husband. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +THE FEAR THAT IS IN LOVE + + +Thus the climax came about in the twinkling of an eye, but the universal +turmoil and wild jubilation in which Prince Louis's power and government +were swept away had really been preparing for years, though the end fell +sharp as the thunderclap that breaks the weather after a season of +parching heat. + +For all that the trouble was only deferred, not removed. The cruel death +of Maurice von Lynar had been rendered impossible by the opportune +arrival of Prince Conrad and the sudden revolution which the sight of +his noble and beloved form, clad in armour, produced among the disgusted +and impulsive Courtlanders. + +Yet the arch-foe had only recoiled in order that he might the further +leap. The great army of the White Czar was encamped just across the +frontier, nominally on the march to Poland, but capable of being in a +moment diverted upon the Princedom of Courtland. Here was a pretext of +invasion ripe to Prince Ivan's hand. So he kept Louis, the dethroned and +extruded prince, close beside him. He urged his father, by every tie of +friendship and interest, to replace that prince upon his throne. And the +Czar Paul, well knowing that the restoration of Louis meant nothing less +than the incorporation of Courtland with his empire, hastened to carry +out his son's advice. + +In Courtland itself there was no confusion. A certain grim determination +took possession of the people. They had made their choice, and they +would abide by it. They had chosen Conrad to be their ruler, as he had +long been their only hope; and they knew that now Louis was for ever +impossible, save as a cloak for a Muscovite dominion. + +It had been the first act of Conrad to summon to him all the archpriests +and heads of chapels and monasteries by virtue of his office as +Cardinal-Archbishop. He represented to them the imminent danger to Holy +Church of yielding to the domination of the Greek heretic. Whoever might +be spared, the Muscovite would assuredly make an end of them. He +promised absolution from the Holy Father to all who would assist in +bulwarking religion and the Church of Peter against invasion and +destruction. He himself would for the time being lay aside his office +and fight as a soldier in the sacred war which was before them. Every +consideration must give way to that. Then he would lay the whole matter +at the feet of the Holy Father in Rome. + +So throughout every town and village in Courtland the war of the Faith +was preached. No presbytery but became a recruiting office. Every pulpit +was a trumpet proclaiming a righteous war. There was to be no salvation +for any Courtlander save in defending his faith and country. It was +agreed by all that there was no hope save in the blessed rule of Prince +Conrad, at once worthy Prince of the Blood, Prince of Holy Church, and +defender of our blessed religion. Prince Louis was a deserter and a +heretic. The Pope would depose him, even as (most likely) he had cursed +him already. + +So, thus encouraged, the country rose behind the retiring Muscovite, and +Prince Louis was conducted across the boundary of his princedom under +the bitter thunder of cannon and the hiss of Courtland arrows. And the +craven trembled as he listened to the shouted maledictions of his own +people, and begged for a common coat, lest his archer guard should +distinguish their late Prince and wing their clothyard shafts at him as +he cowered a little behind Prince Ivan's shoulder. + +Meanwhile Joan, casting aside with an exultant leap of the heart her +intent to make of herself an obedient wife, rode back to Kernsberg in +order to organise all the forces there to meet the common foe. It was to +be the last fight of the Teuton Northland for freedom and faith. + +The Muscovite does not go back, and if Courtland were conquered +Kernsberg could not long stand. To Plassenburg (as we have seen) rode +Boris and Jorian to plead for help from their Prince and Princess. +Dessauer had already preceded them, and the armies, disciplined and +equipped by Prince Karl, were already on the march to defend their +frontiers--it might be to go farther and fight shoulder to shoulder with +Courtland and Kernsberg against the common foe. + +And if all this did not happen, it would not be the fault of those +honest soldiers and admirable diplomatists, Captains Boris and Jorian, +captains of the Palace Guard of Plassenburg. + + * * * * * + +The presence of Prince Conrad in the city of Courtland seemed to change +entirely the character of the people. From being somewhat frivolous they +became at once devoted to the severest military discipline. Nothing was +heard but words of command and the ordered tramp of marching feet. The +country barons and knights brought in their forces, and their tents, all +gay with banners and fluttering pennons, stretched white along the Alla +for a mile or more. + +The word was on every lip, "When will they come?" + +For already the Muscovite allies of Prince Louis had crossed the +frontier and were moving towards Courtland, destroying everything in +their track. + +The day after the deliverance of the Sparhawk, Joan had announced her +intention of riding on the morrow to Kernsberg. Maurice von Lynar and +Von Orseln would accompany her. + +"Then," cried Margaret instantly, "I will go, too!" + +"The ride would be over toilsome for you," said Joan, pausing to touch +her friend's hair as she looked forth from the window of the Castle of +Courtland at the Sparhawk ordering about a company of stout countrymen +in the courtyard beneath. + +"I _will_ go!" said Margaret wilfully. "I shall never let him out of my +sight again!" + +"We shall be back within the week! You will be both safer and more +comfortable here!" + +The Princess Margaret withdrew her head from the open window, +momentarily losing sight of her husband and, in so doing, making vain +her last words. + +"Ah, Joan," she said reproachfully, "you are wise and strong--there is +no one like you. But you do not know what it is to be married. You never +were in love. How, then, can you understand the feelings of a wife?" + +She looked out of the window again and waved a kerchief. + +"Oh, Joan," she looked back again with a mournful countenance, "I do +believe that Maurice does not love me as I love him. He never took the +least notice of me when I waved to him!" + +"How could he," demanded Joan, the soldier's daughter, sharply, "he was +on duty?" + +"Well," answered Margaret, still resentful and unconsoled, "he would not +have done that _before_ we were married! And it is only the first day we +have been together, too, since--since----" + +And she buried her head in her kerchief. + +Joan looked at the Princess a moment with a tender smile. Then she gave +a little sigh and went over to her friend. She laid her hand on her +shoulder and knelt down beside her. + +"Margaret," she whispered, "you used to be so brave. When I was here, +and had to fight the Sparhawk's battles with Prince Wasp, you were as +headstrong as any young squire desiring to win his spurs. You wished to +see us fight, do you remember?" + +The Princess took one corner of her white and dainty kerchief away from +her eyes in order to look yet more reproachfully at her friend. + +"Ah," she said, "that shows! Of course, I knew. You were not _he_, you +see; I knew that in a moment." + +Joan restrained a smile. She did not remind her friend that then she had +never seen "him." The Princess Margaret went on. + +"Joan," she cried suddenly, "I wish to ask you something!" + +She clasped her hands with a sweet petitionary grace. + +"Say on, little one!" said Joan smiling. + +"There will be a battle, Joan, will there not?" + +Joan of the Sword Hand nodded. She took a long breath and drew her head +further back. Margaret noted the action. + +"It is very well for you, Joan," she said; "I know you are more than +half a man. Every one says so. And then you do not love any one, and you +like fighting. But--you may laugh if you will--I am not going to let my +husband fight. I want you to let him go to Plassenburg till it is over!" + +Joan laughed aloud. + +"And you?" she said, still smiling good-naturedly. + +It was now Margaret's turn to draw herself up. + +"You are not kind!" she said. "I am asking you a favour for my husband, +not for myself. Of course I should accompany him! _I_ at least am free +to come and go!" + +"My dear, my dear," said Joan gently, "you are at liberty to propose +this to your husband! If he comes and asks me, he shall not lack +permission." + +"You mean he would not go to Plassenburg even if I asked him?" + +"I know he would not--he, the bravest soldier, the best knight----" + +There came a knocking at the door. + +"Enter!" cried Joan imperiously, yet not a little glad of the +interruption. + +Werner von Orseln stood in the portal. Joan waited for him to speak. + +"My lady," he said, "will you bid the Count von Löen leave his work and +take some rest and sustenance. He thinks of nothing but his drill." + +"Oh, yes, he does," cried the Princess Margaret; "how dare you say it, +fellow! He thinks of me! Why, even now----" + +She looked once more out of the window, a smile upon her face. Instantly +she drew in her head again and sprang to her feet. + +"Oh, he is gone! I cannot see him anywhere!" she cried, "and I never so +much as heard them go! Joan, I am going to find him. He should not have +gone away without bidding me goodbye! It was cruel!" + +She flashed out of the room, and without waiting for tiring maid or +coverture, she ran downstairs, dressed as she was in her light summer +attire. + +Joan stood a moment silent, looking after her with eyes in which flashed +a tender light. Werner von Orseln smiled broadly--the dry smile of an +ancient war-captain who puts no bounds to the vagaries of women. It was +an experienced smile. + +"'Tis well for Kernsberg, my lady," said Werner grimly, "that you are +not the Princess Margaret." + +"And why!" said Joan a little haughtily. For she did not like Conrad's +sister to be treated lightly even by her chief captain. + +"Ah, love--love," said Werner, nodding his head sententiously. "It is +well, my lady, that I ever trained you up to care for none of these +things. Teach a maid to fence, and her honour needs no champion. Give +her sword-cunning and you keep her from making a fool of herself about +the first man who crosses her path. Strengthen her wrist, teach her to +lunge and parry, and you strengthen her head. But you do credit to +_your_ instructor. You have never troubled about the follies of love. +Therefore are you our own Joan of the Sword Hand!" + +Joan sighed another sigh, very softly this time, and her eyes, being +turned away from Von Orseln, were soft and indefinitely hazy. + +"Yes," she answered, "I am Joan of the Sword Hand, and I never think of +these things!" + +"Of course not," he cried cheerfully; "why should you? Ah, if only the +Princess Margaret had had an ancient Werner von Orseln to teach her how +to drill a hole in a fluttering jackanapes! Then we would have had less +of this meauling apron-string business!" + +"Silence," said Joan quickly. "She is here." + +And the Princess came running in with joy in her face. Instinctively +Werner drew back into the shadow of the window curtain, and the smile on +his face grew more grimly experienced than ever. + +"Oh, Joan," cried the Princess breathlessly, "he had not really gone off +without bidding me goodbye. You remember I said that I could not believe +it of him, and you see I was right. One cannot be mistaken about one's +husband!" + +"No?" said Joan interrogatively. + +"Never--so long as he loves you, that is!" said Margaret, breathless +with her haste; "but when you really love any one, you cannot help +getting anxious about them. And then Ivan or Louis might have sent some +one to carry him off again to tear him to pieces. Oh, Joan, you cannot +know all I suffered. You must be patient with me. I think it was seeing +him bound and about to die that has made me like this!" + +"Margaret!" + +Joan went quickly towards her friend, touched with compunction for her +lack of sympathy, and resolved to comfort her if she could. It was true, +after all, that while she and Conrad had been happy together on Isle +Rugen, this girl had been suffering. + +Margaret came towards her, smiling through her tears. + +"But I have thought of something," she said, brightening still more; +"such a splendid plan. I know Maurice would not want to go away when +there was fighting--though I believe, if I had him by himself for an +hour, I could persuade him even to that, for my sake." + +A stifled grunt came from behind the curtains, which represented the +injury done to the feelings of Werner von Orseln by such unworthy +sentiments. + +The Princess looked over in the direction of the sound, but could see +nothing. Joan moved quietly round, so that her friend's back was towards +the window, behind the curtains of which stood the war captain. + +"This is my thought," the Princess went on more calmly. "Do you, Joan, +send Maurice on an embassy to Plassenburg till this trouble is over. +Then he will be safe. I will find means of keeping him there----" + +A stifled groan of rage came from the window. Margaret turned sharply +about. + +"What is that?" she cried, taking hold of her skirts, as the habit of +women is. + +"Some one without in the courtyard," said Joan hastily; "a dog, a cat, a +rat in the wainscot--anything!" + +"It sounded like something," answered the Princess, "but surely not like +anything! Let us look." + +"Margaret," said Joan, gently taking her by the arm and walking with her +towards the door, "Maurice von Lynar is a soldier and a soldier's son. +You would break his heart if you took him away from his duty. He would +not love you the same; you would not love him the same." + +"Oh, yes, I would," said Margaret, showing signs that her sorrow might +break out afresh. "I would love him more for taking care of his life for +my sake!" + +"You know you would not, Margaret," Joan persisted. "No woman can truly +and fully love a man whom she is not proud of." + +[Illustration: "Joan indignantly drew the curtain aside." [_Page 323_]] + +"Oh, that is before they are married!" cried the Princess indignantly. +"Afterwards it is different. You find out things then--and love them all +the same. But, of course, how should I expect you to help me? You have +never loved; you do not understand!" And, without another word, Margaret +of Courtland, who had once been so heart-free and _débonnaire_, went out +sobbing like a fretted child. Hardly had the door closed upon her when +the sound of stifled laughter broke from the window-seat. Joan +indignantly drew the curtains aside and revealed Werner von Orseln +shaking all over and vainly striving to govern his mirth with his hands +pressed against his sides. + +At sight of the face of his mistress, which was very grave, and even +stern, his laughter instantly shut itself off. As it seemed, with a +single movement, he raised himself to his feet and saluted. Joan stood +looking at him a moment without speech. + +"Your mirth is exceedingly ill-timed," she said slowly. "On a future +occasion, pray remember that the Lady Margaret is a Princess and my +friend. You can go! We ride out to-morrow morning at five. See that +everything is arranged." + +Once more Von Orseln saluted, with a face expressionless as a stone. He +marched to the door, turned and saluted a third time, and with heavy +footsteps descended the stairs communing with himself as he went. + +"That was salt, Werner. Faith, but she gave you the back of the +sword-hand that time, old kerl! Yet, 'twas most wondrous humorsome. Ha! +ha! But I must not laugh--at least, not here, for if she catches me the +Kernsbergers will want a new chief captain. Ha! ha! No, I will not +laugh. Werner, you old fool, be quiet! God's grace, but she looked right +royal! It is worth a dressing down to see her in a rage. Faith, I would +rather face a regiment of Muscovites single-handed than cross our Joan +in one of her tantrums!" + +He was now at the outer door. Prince Conrad was dismounting. The two men +saluted each other. + +"Is the Duchess Joan within?" said Conrad, concealing his eagerness +under the hauteur natural to a Prince. + +"I have just left her!" answered the chief captain. + +Without a word Conrad sprang up the steps three at a time. Werner turned +about and watched the young man's firm lithe figure till it had +disappeared. + +"Faith of Saint Anthony!" he murmured, "I am right glad our lady cares +not for love. If she did, and if you had not been a priest--well, there +might have been trouble." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII + +THE BROKEN BOND + + +Above, in the dusky light of the upper hall, Conrad and Joan stood +holding each other's hands. It was the first time they had been alone +together since the day on which they had walked along the sand-dunes of +Rugen. + +Since then they seemed to have grown inexplicably closer together. To +Joan, Conrad now seemed much more her own--the man who loved her, whom +she loved--than he had been on the Island. To watch day by day for his +passing in martial attire brought back the knight of the tournament +whose white plume she had seen storm through the lists on the day when, +a slim secretary, she had stood with beating heart and shining eyes +behind the chair of Leopold von Dessauer, Ambassador of Plassenburg. + +For almost five minutes they stood thus without speech; then Joan drew +away her hands. + +"You forget," she said smiling, "that was forbidden in the bond." + +"My lady," he said, "was not the bond for Isle Rugen alone? Here we are +comrades in the strife. We must save our fatherland. I have laid aside +my priesthood. If I live, I shall appeal to the Holy Father to loose me +wholly from my vows." + +Smilingly she put his eager argument by. + +"It was of another vow I spoke. I am not the Holy Father, and for this I +will not give you absolution. We are comrades, it is true--that and no +more! To-morrow I ride to Kernsberg, where I will muster every man, +call down the shepherds from the hills, and be back with you by the Alla +before the Muscovite can attack you. I, Joan of the Sword Hand, promise +it!" + +She stamped her foot, half in earnest and half in mockery of the +sonorous name by which she was known. + +"I would rather you were Joan of the Grange at Isle Rugen, and I your +jerkined servitor, cleaving the wood that you might bake the bread." + +"Conrad," said Joan, shaking her head wistfully, "such thoughts are not +wise for you and me to harbour. I may indeed be no duchess and you no +prince, but we must stand to our dignities now when the enemy threatens +and the people need us. Afterwards, an it like us, we may step down +together. But, indeed, I need not to argue, for I think better of you, +my comrade, than to suppose you would ever imagine anything else." + +"Joan," said Conrad very gravely, "do not fear for me. I have turned +once for all from a career I never chose. Death alone shall turn me back +this time." + +"I know it," she answered; "I never doubted it. But what shall we do +with this poor lovesick bride of ours?" + +And she told him of her interview that morning with his sister. Conrad +laughed gently, yet with sympathy; Margaret had always been his "little +girl," and her very petulances were dear to him. + +"It had been well if she would have consented to remain here," he said; +"and yet I do not know. She is not built for rough weather, our +Gretchen. We are near the enemy, and many things may happen. Our +soldiers are mostly levies in Courtland, and the land has been long at +peace. The burghers and country folk are willing enough, but--well, +perhaps she will be better with you." + +"She swears she will not go without her husband," said Joan. "Yet he +ought to remain with you. I do not need him; Werner will be enough." + +"Leave me Von Orseln, and do you take the young man," said Conrad; +"then Margaret will go with you willingly and gladly." + +"But she will want to return--that is, if Maurice comes, too." + +"Isle Rugen?" suggested Conrad, smilingly. "Send your ten men who know +the road. If they could carry off Joan of the Sword Hand, they should +have no difficulty with little Margaret of Courtland." + +Joan clapped her hands with pleasure and relief, all unconscious that +immediately behind her Margaret had entered softly and now stood +arrested by the sound of her own name. + +"Oh, they will have no trouble, will they not?" she said in her own +heart, and smiled. "Isle Rugen? Thank you, my very dear brother and +sister. You would get rid of me, separate me from Maurice while he is +fighting for your precious princedoms. What is a country in comparison +with a husband? I would not care a doit which country I belonged to, so +long as I had Maurice with me!" + +A moment or two Conrad and Joan discussed the details of the capture, +while more softly than before Margaret retired to the door. She would +have slipped out altogether but that something happened just then which +froze her to the spot. + +A trumpet blew without--once, twice, and thrice, in short and stirring +blasts. Hardly had the echoes died away when she heard her brother say, +"Adieu, best-beloved! It is the signal that tells me that Prince Ivan is +within a day's march of Courtland. I bid you goodbye, and if--if we +should never meet again, do not forget that I loved you--loved you as +none else could love!" + +He held out his hand. Joan stood rooted to the spot, her lips moving, +but no words coming forth. Then Margaret heard a hoarse cry break from +her who had contemned love. + +"I cannot let you go thus!" she cried. "I cannot keep the vow! It is too +hard for me! Conrad!--I am but a weak woman after all!" + +And in a moment the Princess Margaret saw Joan the cold, Joan of the +Sword Hand, Joan Duchess of Kernsberg and Hohenstein, in the arms of her +brother. + +Whereupon, not being of set purpose an eavesdropper, Margaret went out +and shut the door softly. The lovers had neither heard her come nor go. +And the wife of Maurice von Lynar was smiling very sweetly as she went, +but in her eyes lurked mischief. + +Conrad descended the stair from the apartments of the Duchess Joan, +divided between the certainty that his lips had tasted the unutterable +joy and the fear lest his soul had sinned the unpardonable sin. + +A moment Joan steadied herself by the window, with her hand to her +breast as if to still the flying pulses of her heart. She took a step +forward that she might look once more upon him ere he went. But, +changing her purpose in the very act, she turned about and found herself +face to face with the Princess Margaret, who was still smiling subtly. + +"You have granted my request?" she said softly. + +Joan commanded herself with difficulty. + +"What request?" she asked, for she indeed had forgotten. + +"That Maurice and I should first go with you to Kernsberg and afterwards +to Plassenburg." + +"Let me think--let me think--give me time!" said Joan, sinking into a +chair and looking straight before her. The world was suddenly filled +with whirling vapour and her brain turned with it. + +"I am in the midst of troubles. I know not what to do!" she murmured. + +"Ah, it was quieter at Isle Rugen, was it not?" suggested Margaret, who +had not forgiven the project of kidnapping her and carrying her off from +her husband. + +But Joan was thinking too deeply to answer or even to notice any taunt. + +"I cannot go," she murmured, thinking aloud. "I cannot ride to Kernsberg +and leave him in the front of danger!" + +"A woman's place is at home!" said Margaret in a low tone, maliciously +quoting Joan's words. + +"He must not fight this battle alone. Perhaps I shall never see him +again!" + +"A man must not be hampered by affection in the hour of danger!" + +At this point Joan looked down upon Margaret as she might have done at a +puppy that worried a stick to attract her attention. + +"Do you know," she said, "that Prince Ivan and his Muscovites are within +a day's march of Courtland, and that Prince Conrad has already gone +forth to meet them?" + +"What!" cried Margaret, "within a day's march of the city? I must go and +find my husband." + +"Wait!" said Joan. "I see my way. Your husband shall come hither." + +She went to the door and clapped her hands. An attendant appeared, one +of the faithful Kernsberg ten to whom so much had been committed upon +the Isle Rugen. + +"Send hither instantly Werner von Orseln, Alt Pikker, and the Count von +Löen!" + +She waited with the latch of the door in her hand till she heard their +footsteps upon the stair. They entered together and saluted. Margaret +moved instinctively nearer to her husband. Indeed, only the feeling that +the moment was a critical one kept her from running at once to him. As +for Maurice, he had not yet grown ashamed of his wife's open +manifestations of affection. + +"Gentlemen," said Joan, "the enemy is at the gate of the city. We shall +need every man. Who will ride to Kernsberg and bring back succour?" + +"Alt Pikker will go!" said Maurice instantly; "he is in charge of the +levies!" + +"The Count von Löen is young. He will ride fastest!" said the chief +captain. + +"Werner von Orseln, of course!" said Alt Pikker, "he is in chief +command." + +"What? You do not wish to go?" said Joan a little haughtily, looking +from one to the other of them. It was Werner von Orseln who answered. + +"Your Highness," he said respectfully, "if the enemy be so near, and a +battle imminent, the man is no soldier who would willingly be absent. +But we are your servants. Choose you one to go; or, if it seem good to +you, more than one. Bid us go, and on our heads it shall be to escort +you safely to Kernsberg and bring back reinforcements." + +The Princess came closer to Joan and slipped a hand into hers. The witty +wrinkle at the corner of Werner von Orseln's mouth twitched. + +"Von Lynar shall go!" said Joan. + +Whereat Maurice held down his head, Margaret clapped her hands, and the +other two stood stolidly awaiting instructions, as became their +position. + +"At what hour shall I depart, my lady?" said Maurice. + +"Now! So soon as you can get the horses ready?" + +"But your Grace must have time to make her preparations!" + +"I am not going to Kernsberg. I stay here!" said Joan, stating a fact. + +Werner von Orseln was just going out of the door, jubilantly confiding +to Alt Pikker that as soon as he saw the Princess put her hand in their +lady's he knew they were safe. At the sound of Joan's words he was +startled into crying out loudly, "What?" At the same time he faced about +with the frown on his face which he wore when he corrected an +irregularity in the ranks. + +"I am not going to Kernsberg. I bide here!" Joan repeated calmly. "Have +you anything to say to that, Chief Captain von Orseln?" + +"But, my lady----" + +"There are no buts in the matter. Go to your quarters and see that the +arms and armour are all in good case!" + +"Madam, the arms and armour are always in good case," said Werner, with +dignity; "but go to Kernsberg you must. The enemy is near to the city, +and your Highness might fall into their hands." + +"You have heard what I have said!" Joan tapped the oaken floor with her +foot. + +"But, madam, let me beseech you----" + +Joan turned from her chief captain impatiently and walked towards the +door of her private apartments. Werner followed his mistress, with his +hands a little outstretched and a look of eager entreaty on his face. + +"My lady," he said, "thirty years I was the faithful servant of your +father--ten I have served you. By the memory of those years, if ever I +have served you faithfully--" + +"My father taught you but little, if after thirty years you have not +learned to obey. Go to your post!" + +Werner von Orseln drew himself up and saluted. Then he wheeled about and +clanked out without adding a word more. + +"Faith," he confided to Alt Pikker, "the wench is her father all over +again. If I had gone a step further, I swear she would have beat me with +the flat of my own sword. I saw her eye full on the hilt of it." + +"Faith, I too, wished that I had been better helmeted!" chuckled Alt +Pikker. + +"Well," said Werner, like one who makes the best of ill fortune, "we +must keep the closer to her, you and I, that in the stress of battle she +come not to a mischief. Yet I confess that I am not deeply sorry. I +began to fear that Isle Rugen had sapped our lass's spirit. To my mind, +she seemed somewhat over content to abide there." + +"Ah," nodded Alt Pikker, "that is because, after all, our Joan is a +woman. No one can know the secret of a woman's heart." + +"And those who think they know most, know the least!" concurred the much +experienced Werner. + + * * * * * + +For a moment, after the door closed upon the men, Joan and Margaret +stood in silence regarding each other. + +"I must go and make me ready," said Margaret, speaking like one who is +thinking deeply. Joan stood still, conscious that something was about to +happen, uncertain what it might be. + +"I shall see you before I depart," Margaret was saying, with her hand on +the latch. + +Suddenly she dropped the handle of the door and ran impulsively to Joan, +clasping her about the neck. + +"_I know!_" she said, looking up into her face. + +With a great leap the blood flew to Joan's neck and brow, then as slowly +faded away, leaving her paler than before. + +"What do you know?" she faltered; and she feared, yet desired, to hear. + +"That you love him!" said Margaret very low. "I came in--I could not +help it--I did not know--when Conrad was bidding you goodbye. Joan, I am +so glad--so glad! Now you will understand; now you will not think me +foolish any more!" + +"Margaret, I am shamed for ever--it is sin!" whispered Joan, with her +arms about her friend. + +"It is love!" said the wife of Maurice von Lynar, with glowing eyes and +pride in her voice. + +"I hope I shall die in battle----" + +"Joan!" + +"I a wife, and love a priest--the brother of the man who is my husband! +I pray God that He will take my life to atone for the sin of loving him. +Yet He knows that I could neither help it nor yet hinder." + +"Joan, you will yet be happy." + +The Duchess shook her head. + +"It were best for us both that I should die--that is what I pray for." + +"May Heaven avert this thing--you know not what you say. And yet," +Margaret continued in a more meditative tone, "I am not sure. If he were +there with you, death itself would not be so hard; at all events, it +were better than living without each other." + +And the two women went into the attiring-room with arms still locked +about each other's waists. And as often as their eyes encountered they +lingered a little, as if tasting the sweet new knowledge which they had +in common. Then those of Joan of the Sword Hand were averted and she +blushed. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII + +JOAN GOVERNS THE CITY + + +It was night in the city of Courtland, and a time of great fear. The +watchmen went to and fro on the walls, staring into the blank dark. The +Alla, running low with the droughts, lapped gently about the piles of +the Summer Palace and lisped against the bounding walls of the city. + +But ever and anon from the east, where lay the camps of the opposed +forces, there came a sound, heavy and sonorous, like distant thunder. +Whereat the frighted wives of the burghers of Courtland said, "I wonder +what mother's son lies a-dying now. Hearken to the talking of Great Peg, +the Margraf's cannon!" + +At the western or Brandenberg gate there was yet greater fear. For the +news had spread athwart the city that a great body of horsemen had +paused in front of it, and were being held in parley by the guard on +duty, till the Lady Joan, Governor of the city, should be made aware. + +"They swear that they are friends"--so ran the report--"which is proof +that they are enemies. For how can there be friends who are not +Courtlanders. And these speak an outland speech, clacking in their +throats, hissing their s's, and laughing 'Ho! ho!' instead of 'Hoch! +hoch!' as all good Christians do!" + +The Governor of the city, roused from a rare slumber, leaped on her +horse and went clattering off with an escort through the unsleeping +streets. When first she came the folk had cheered her as she went. But +they were too jaded and saddened now. + +"Our Governor, the Princess Joan!" they used to call her with pride. But +for all that she found not the same devotion among these easy +Courtlanders as among her hardy men of Hohenstein. To these she was +indeed the Princess Joan. But to those in Castle Kernsberg she was Joan +of the Sword Hand. + +When at last she came to the Brandenburg gate she found before it a +great gathering of the townsfolk. The city guard manned the walls, +fretted with haste and falling over each other in their uncertainty. +There was yet no strictness of discipline among these raw train-bands, +and, instead of waiting for an officer to hail the horsemen in front, +every soldier, hackbutman, and halberdier was shouting his loudest, till +not a word of the reply could be heard. + +But all this turmoil vanished before the first fierce gust of Joan's +wrath like leaves blown away by the blasts of January. + +"To your posts, every man! I will have the first man spitted with arrows +who disobeys--aye, or takes more upon himself than simple obedience to +orders. Let such as are officers only abide here with me. Silence +beneath in the tower there." + +Looking out, Joan could see a dark mass of horsemen, while above them +glinted in the pale starlight a forest of spearheads. + +"Whence come you, strangers?" cried Joan, in the loud, clear voice which +carried so far. + +"From Plassenburg we are!" came back the answer. + +"Who leads you?" + +"Captains Boris and Jorian, officers of the Prince's bodyguard." + +"Let Captains Boris and Jorian approach and deliver their message." + +"With whom are we in speech?" cried the unmistakable voice of Boris, the +long man. + +"With the Princess Joan of Hohenstein, Governor of the city of +Courtland," said Joan firmly. + +"Come on, Boris; those Courtland knaves will not shoot us now. That is +the voice of Joan of the Sword Hand. There can be no treachery where she +is." + +"Ho, below there!" cried Joan. "Shine a light on them from the upper +sally port." + +The lanterns flashed out, and there, immediately below her, Joan beheld +Boris and Jorian saluting as of old, with the simultaneous gesture which +had grown so familiar to her during the days at Isle Rugen. She was +moved to smile in spite of the soberness of the circumstances. + +"What news bring you, good envoys?" + +"The best of news," they said with one accord, but stopped there as if +they had no more to say. + +"And that news is----" + +"First, we are here to fight. Pray you tell us if it is all over!" + +"It is not over; would to Heaven it were!" said Joan. + +"Thank God for that!" cried Boris and Jorian, with quite remarkable +unanimity of piety. + +"Is that all your tidings?" + +"Nay, we have brought the most part of the Palace Guard with us--five +hundred good lances and all hungry-bellied for victuals and all +monstrously thirsty in their throats. Besides which, Prince Hugo raises +Plassenburg and the Mark, and in ten days he will be on the march for +Courtland." + +"God send him speed! I fear me in ten days it will be over indeed," said +Joan, listening for the dull recurrent thunder down towards the Alla +mouth. + +"What, does the Muscovite press you so hard?" + +"He has thousands to our hundreds, so that he can hem us in on every +side." + +"Never fear," cried Boris confidently; "we will hold him in check for +you till our good Hugo comes to take him on the flank." + +Then Joan bade the gates be opened, and the horsemen of Plassenburg, +strong men on huge horses, trampled in. She held out a hand for the +captains to kiss, and sent the burgomaster to assign them billets in the +town. + +Then, without resting, she went to the wool market, which had been +turned into a soldiers' hospital. Here she found Theresa von Lynar, +going from bed to bed smoothing pillows, anointing wounded limbs, and +assisting the surgeons in the care of those who had been brought back +from the fatal battlefields of the Alla. + +Theresa von Lynar rose to meet Joan as she entered, with all the respect +due to the city's Governor. Silently the young girl beckoned her to +follow, and they went out between long lines of pallets. Here and there +a torch glimmered in a sconce against the wall, or a surgeon with a +candle in his hand paused at a bedside. The sough of moaning came from +all about, and in a distant window-bay, unseen, a man distract with +fever jabbered and fought fitfully. + +Never had Joan realised so nearly the reverse of war. Never had she so +longed for the peace of Isle Rugen. She could govern a city. She could +lead a foray. She was not afraid to ride into battle, lance in rest or +sword in hand. But she owned to herself that she could not do what this +woman was doing. + +"Remember, when all is over I shall keep my vow!" Joan began, as they +paused and looked down the long alley of stained pillows, tossing heads, +and torn limbs lying very still on palliasses of straw. Without, some of +the riotous youth of the city were playing martial airs on twanging +instruments. + +"And I also will keep mine!" responded Theresa briefly. + +"I am Duchess and city Governor only till the invader is driven out," +Joan continued. "Then Isle Rugen is to be mine, and your son shall sit +in the seat of Henry the Lion!" + +"Isle Rugen shall be yours!" answered Theresa. + +"And when you are tired of Castle Kernsberg you will cross the wastes +and take boat to visit me, even as at the first I came to you!" said +Joan, kindling at the thought of a definite sacrifice. It seemed like an +atonement for her soul's sin. + +"And what of Prince Conrad!" said Theresa quietly. + +Joan was silent for a space, then she answered with her eyes on the +ground. + +"Prince Conrad shall rule this land as is his duty--Cardinal, +Archbishop, Prince he shall be; there shall be none to deny him so soon +as the power of the Muscovite is broken. He will be in full alliance +with Hohenstein. He will form a blood bond with Plassenburg. And when he +dies, all that is his shall belong to the children of Duke Maurice and +his wife Margaret!" + +Theresa von Lynar stood a moment weighing Joan's words, and when she +spoke it was a question that she asked. + +"Where is Maurice to-night?" she asked. + +"He commands the Kernsbergers in the camp. Prince Conrad has made him +provost-marshal." + +"And the Princess Margaret?" + +"She abides in the river gate of the city, which Maurice passes often +upon his rounds!" + +A strange smile passed over the face of Theresa von Lynar. + +"There are many kinds of love," she said; "but not after this fashion +did I, that am a Dane, love Henry the Lion. Wherefore should a woman +hamper a man in his wars? Sooner would I have died by his hand!" + +"She loves him," said Joan, with a new sympathy. "She is a princess and +wilful. Moreover, not even a woman can prophesy what love will make +another woman do!" + +"Aye!" retorted Theresa, "I am with you there. But to help a man, not to +hinder. Let her strip herself naked that he may go forth clad. Let her +fall on the sharp wayside stones that he may march to victory. Let her +efface herself that no breath may sully his great name. Let her die +unknown--nay, make of herself a living death--that he may increase and +fill the mouths of men. That is love--the love of women as I have +imagined it. But this love that takes and will not give, that hampers +and sends not forth to conquer, that keeps a man within call like a dog +straining upon a leash--pah! that is not the love I know!" + +She turned sharply upon Joan, all her body quivering with excitement. + +"No, nor yet is it your way of love, my Lady Joan!" + +"I shall never be so tried, like Margaret," answered Joan, willing to +change her mood. "I shall never love any man with the love of wife!" + +"God forbid," said Theresa, looking at her, "that such a woman as you +should die without living!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX + +THE WOOING OF BORIS AND JORIAN + + +"Jorian," said Boris, adjusting his soft underjerkin before putting on +his body armour, "thou art the greatest fool in the world!" + +"Hold hard, Boris," answered Jorian. "Honour to whom honour--thou art +greater by at least a foot than I!" + +"Well," said the long man, "let us not quarrel about the breadth of a +finger-nail. At any rate, we two are the greatest fools in the world." + +"There are others," said Jorian, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in +the direction of the women's apartments. + +"None so rounded and tun-bellied with folly!" cried Boris, with +decision. "No two donkeys so thistle-fed as we--to have the command of +five hundred good horsemen, and the chances of as warm a fight as ever +closed----" + +"That is just it," cried Jorian; "our Hugo had no business to forbid us +to engage in the open before he should come." + +"'Hold the city.' quoth he, shaking that great head of his. 'I know not +the sort of general this priest-knight may be, and till I know I will +not have my Palace Guard flung like a can of dirty water in the face of +the Muscovites. Therefore counsel the Prince to stand on the defensive +till I come.'" + +"And rightly spoke the son of the Red Axe," assented Boris; "only our +good Hugo should have sent other men than you and me to command in such +a campaign. We never could let well alone all the days of us." + +"Save in the matter of marriage or no marriage!" smiled Boris grimly. + +"A plague on all women!" growled the little fat man, his rubicund and +shining face lined with unaccustomed discontent. "A plague on all women, +I say! What can this Theresa von Lynar want in the Muscovite camp, that +we must promise to convey her safe through the fortifications, and then +put her into Prince Wasp's hands?" + +"Think you that for some hatred of our Joan--you remember that night at +Isle Rugen--or some purpose of her own (she loves not the Princess +Margaret either), this Theresa would betray the city to the enemy?" + +"Tush!" Jorian had lost his temper and answered crossly. "In that case, +would she have called us in? It were easy enough to find some traitor +among these Courtlanders, who, to obtain the favour of Prince Louis, +would help to bring the Muscovite in. But what, if she were thrice a +traitress, would cause her to fix on the two men who of all others would +never turn knave and spoil-sport--no, not for a hundred vats of Rhenish +bottled by Noah the year after the Flood!" + +"Well," sighed his companion, "'tis well enough said, my excellent +Jorian, but all this does not advance us an inch. We have promised, and +at eleven o' the clock we must go. What hinders, though, that we have a +bottle of Rhenish now, even though the vintage be younger than you say? +Perhaps, however, the patron was more respectable!" + + * * * * * + +Thus in the hall of the men-at-arms in the Castle of Courtland spoke the +two captains of Plassenburg. All this time they were busy with their +attiring, Boris in especial making great play with a tortoiseshell comb +among his tangled locks. Somewhat more spruce was the arraying of our +twin comrades-in-arms than we have seen it. Perhaps it was the thought +of the dangerous escort duty upon which they had promised to venture +forth that night; perhaps---- + +"May we come in?" cried an arch voice from the doorway. "Ah, we have +caught you! There--we knew it! So said I to my sister not an hour agone. +Women may be vain as peacocks, but for prinking, dandifying vanity, +commend me to a pair of foreign war-captains. My lords, have you blacked +your eyelashes yet, touched up your eyebrows, scented and waxed those +_beautiful_ moustaches? Sister, can you look and live?" + +And to the two soldiers, standing stiff as at attention, with their +combs in their hands, enter the sisters Anna and Martha Pappenheim, more +full of mischief than ever, and entirely unsubdued by the presence of +the invader at their gates. + +"Russ or Turk, Courtlander or Franconian, Jew, proselyte, or dweller in +Mesopotamia, all is one to us. So be they are men, we will engage to tie +them about our little fingers!" + +"Why," cried Martha, "whence this grand toilet? We knew not that you had +friends in the city. And yet they tell me you have been in Courtland +before, Sir Boris?" + +"Marthe," cried Anna Pappenheim, with vast pretence of indignation, +"what has gotten into you, girl? Can you have forgotten that martial +carriage, those limbs incomparably knit, that readiness of retort and +delicate sparkle of Wendish wit, which set all the table in a roar, and +yet never once brought the blush to maiden's cheek? For shame, Marthe!" + +"Ha! ha!" laughed Jorian suddenly, short and sharp, as if a string had +been pulled somewhere. + +"Ho! ho!" thus more sonorously Boris. + +Anna Pappenheim caught her skirts in her hand and spun round on her heel +on pretence of looking behind her. + +"Sister, what was that?" she cried, spying beneath the settles and up +the wide throat of the chimney. "Methought a dog barked." + +"Or a grey goose cackled!" + +"Or a donkey sang!" + +"Ladies," said Jorian, who, being vastly discomposed, must perforce try +to speak with an affectation of being at his ease, "you are pleased to +be witty." + +"Heaven mend our wit or your judgment!" + +"And we are right glad to be your butts. Yet have we been accounted +fellows of some humour in our own country and among men----" + +"Why, then, did you not stay there?" inquired Martha pointedly. + +"It was not Boris and I who could not stay without," retorted Jorian, +somewhat nettled, nodding towards the door of the guard-room. + +"Well said!" cried frank Anna. "He had you there, Marthe. Pricked in the +white! Faith, Sir Jorian pinked us both, for indeed it was we who +intruded into these gentlemen's dressing-room. Our excuse is that we are +tirewomen, and would fain practise our office when and where we can. Our +Princess hath been wedded and needs us but once a week. Noble Wendish +gentlemen, will not you engage us?" + +She clasped her hands, going a step or two nearer Boris as if in appeal. + +"Do, kind sirs," she said, "have pity on two poor girls who have no work +to do. Think--we are orphans and far from home!" + +The smiles on the faces of the war-captains broadened. "Ho! ho! Good!" +burst out Boris. + +"Ha! ha! Excellent!" assented Jorian, nodding, with his eyes on Martha. + +Anna Pappenheim ran quickly on tip-toe round to Boris's back and peered +between his shoulders. Then she ran her eyes down to his heels. + +"Sister," she cried, "_they_ do it. That dreadful noise comes from +somewhere about them. I distinctly saw their jaws waggle. They must of a +surety be wound up like an arbalist. Yet I cannot find the string and +trigger! Do come and help me, good Marthe! If you find it, I will dance +at your wedding in my stocking-feet!" + +And the gay Franconian reached up and pulled a stray tag of Boris's +jerkin, which hung down his back. The knot slipped, and a circlet of red +and gold, ragged at the lower edges, came off in her hand, revealing the +fact that Boris's noble _soubreveste_ was no more than a fringe of +broidered collar. + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Jorian irrepressibly. For Boris looked mightily +crestfallen to have his magnificence so rudely dealt with. + +Anna von Pappenheim clapped her hands. + +"I have found it," she cried. "It goes like this. You touch off the +trigger of one, and the other explodes!" + +Boris wheeled about with fell intent on his face. He would have caught +the teasing minx in his arms, but Anna skipped round behind a chair and +threatened him with her finger. + +"Not till you engage us," she cried. "Hands off, there! We are to array +you--not you to disarray us!" + +Whereat the two gamesome Southlanders stood together in ludicrous +imitation of Boris and Jorian's military stiffness, folding their hands +meekly and casting their eyes downward like a pair of most ingenuous +novices listening to the monitions of their Lady Superior. Then Anna's +voice was heard speaking with almost incredible humility. + +"Will my lord with the hook nose so great and noble deign to express a +preference which of us shall be his handmaid?" + +But they had ventured an inch too far. The string was effectually pulled +now. + +"I will have this one--she is so merry!" cried solemn Boris, seizing +Anna Pappenheim about the waist. + +"And I this! She pretendeth melancholy, yet has tricks like a monkey!" +said Jorian, quickly following his example. The girls fended them +gallantly, yet, as mayhap they desired, their case was hopeless. + +"Hands off! I will not be called 'this one,'" cried Anna, though she did +not struggle too vehemently. + +"Nor I a monkey! Let me go, great Wend!" chimed Martha, resigning +herself as soon as she had said it. + +In this prosperous estate was the courtship of Franconia and +Plassenburg, when some instinct drew the eyes of Jorian to the door of +the officers' guard-room, which Anna had carefully left open at her +entrance, in order to secure their retreat. + +The Duchess Joan stood there silent and regardant. + +"Boris!" cried Jorian warningly. Boris lifted his eyes from the smiling +challenge upon Anna's upturned lips, which, after the manner of your +war-captains, he was stooping to kiss. + +Unwillingly Boris lifted his eyes. The next moment both the late envoys +of Plassenburg were saluting as stiffly as if they had still been +men-at-arms, while Anna and Martha, blushing divinely, were busy with +their needlework in the corner, as demure as cats caught sipping cream. + +Joan looked at the four for a while without speaking. + +"Captains Boris and Jorian," she said sternly, "a messenger has come +from Prince Conrad to say that the Muscovites press him hard. He asks +for instant reinforcements. There is not a man fit for duty within the +city saving your command. Will you take them to the Prince's assistance +immediately? Werner von Orseln fights by his side. Maurice and my +Kernsbergers are already on their way." + +The countenances of the two Plassenburg captains fell as the leathern +screen drops across a cathedral door through which the evening sunshine +has been streaming. + +"My lady, it is heartbreaking, but we cannot," said Boris dolefully. +"Our Lord Prince Hugo bade us keep the city till he should arrive!" + +"But I am Governor. I will keep the city," cried Joan; "the women will +mount halberd and carry pike. Go to the Prince! Were Hugo of Plassenburg +here he would be the first to march! Go, I order you! Go, I beseech +you!" + +She said the last words in so changed a tone that Boris looked at her in +surprise. + +But still he shook his head. + +"It is certain that if Prince Hugo were here he would be the first to +ride to the rescue. But Prince Hugo is not here, and my comrade and I +are soldiers under orders!" + +"Cowards!" flashed Joan, "I will go myself. The cripples, the halt, and +the blind shall follow me. Thora of Bornheim and these maidens there, +they shall follow me to the rescue of their Prince. Do you, brave men of +Plassenburg, cower behind the walls while the Muscovite overwhelms all +and the true Prince is slain!" + +And at this her voice broke and she sobbed out, "Cowards! cowards! +cowards! God preserve me from cowardly men!" + +For at such times and in such a cause no woman is just. For which high +Heaven be thanked! + +Boris looked at Jorian. Jorian looked at Boris. + +"No, madam," said Boris gravely; "your servants are no cowards. It is +true that we were commanded by our master to keep his Palace Guard +within the city walls, and these must stay. But we two are in some sense +still Envoys Extraordinary, and not strictly of the Prince's Palace +Guard. As Envoys, therefore, charged with a free commission in the +interests of peace, we can without wrongdoing accompany you whither you +will. Eh, Jorian?" + +"Aye," quoth Jorian; "we are at her Highness's service till ten o' the +clock." + +"And why till ten?" asked Joan, turning to go out. + +"Oh," returned Jorian, "there is guard-changing and other matters to see +to. But there is time for a wealth of fighting before ten. Lead on, +madam. We follow your Highness!" + + + + +CHAPTER L + +THE DIN OF BATTLE + + +It was a strange uncouth band that Joan had got together in a handful of +minutes in order to accompany her to the field upon which, sullenly +retiring before a vastly more numerous enemy, Conrad and his little army +stood at bay. Raw lathy lads, wide-hammed from sitting cross-legged in +tailors' workshops; prentices too wambly and knock-kneed to be taken at +the first draft; old men who had long leaned against street corners and +rubbed the doorways of the cathedral smooth with their backs; a +sprinkling of stout citizens, reluctant and much afraid, but still more +afraid of the wrath of Joan of the Sword Hand. + +Joan was still scouring the lanes and intricate passages for laggards +when Boris and Jorian entered the little square where this company were +assembled, most of them embracing their arbalists as if they had been +sweeping besoms, and the rest holding their halberds as if they feared +they would do themselves an injury. + +The nose of fat Jorian went so high into the air that, without intending +it, he found himself looking up at Boris; and at that moment Boris +chanced to be glancing at Jorian down the side of his high arched beak. + +To the herd of the uncouth soldiery it simply appeared as though the two +war-captains of Plassenburg looked at each other. An observer on the +opposite side would have noted, however, that the right eye of Jorian +and the left eye of Boris simultaneously closed. + +Yet when they turned their regard upon the last levy of the city of +Courtland their faces were grave. + +"Whence come these churchyard scourings, these skulls and crossbones set +up on end?" cried Jorian in face of them all. And this saying from so +stout a man made their legs wamble more than ever. + +"Rotboss rascals, rogues in grain," Boris took up the tale, "faith, it +makes a man scratch only to look at them! Did you ever see their +marrow?" + +The two captains turned away in disgust. They walked to and fro a little +apart, and Boris, who loved all animals, kicked a dog that came his way. +Boris was unhappy. He avoided Jorian's eye. At last he broke out. + +"We cannot let our Lady Joan set forth for field with such a compost of +mumpers and tun-barrels as these!" he said. + +Boris confided this, as it were to the housetops. Jorian apparently did +not listen. He was clicking his dagger in its sheath, but from his next +word it was evident that his mind had not been inactive. + +"What excuse could we make to Hugo, our Prince?" he said at last. +"Scarcely did he believe us the last time. And on this occasion we have +his direct orders." + +"Are we not still Envoys?" queried Boris. + +"Extraordinary!" twinkled Jorian, catching his comrade's idea as a bush +of heather catches moorburn. + +"And as Envoys of a great principality like Plassenburg--representatives +of the most noble Prince and Princess in this Empire, should we not ride +with retinue due and fitting? That is not taking the Palace Guard into +battle. It is only affording due protection to their Excellencies' +representatives." + +"That sounds well enough," answered Boris doubtfully, "but will it stand +probation, think you, when Hugo scowls at us from under his brows, and +you see the bar of the fifteen Red Axes of the Wolfmark stand red across +his forehead?" + +"Tut, man, his anger is naught to that of Karl the Miller's Son. You +and I have stood that. Why should we fear our quiet Hugo?" + +"Aye, aye; in our day we have tried one thing and then another upon Karl +and have borne up under his anger. But then Karl only cursed and used +great horned words, suchlike as in his youth he had heard the waggoners +use to encourage their horses up the mill brae. But Hugo--when he is +angry he says nought, only the red bar comes up slowly, and as it grows +dark and fiery you wish he would order you to the scaffold at once, and +be done with it!" + +"Well," said Jorian, "at all events, there is always our Helene. I +opine, whatever we do, she will not forget old days--the night at the +earth-houses belike and other things. I think we may risk it!" + +"True," meditated Boris, "you say well. There is always Helene. The +Little Playmate will not let our necks be stretched! Not at least for +succouring a Princess in distress." + +"And a woman in love?" added Jorian, who, though he followed the lead of +the long man in great things, had a shrewder eye for some more intimate +matters. + +"Eh, what's that you say?" said Boris, turning quickly upon him. He had +been regarding with interest a shackled-kneed varlet holding a halberd +in his arms as if it had been a fractious bairn. + +But Jorian was already addressing the company before him. + +"Here, ye unbaked potsherds--dismiss, if ye know what that means. Get ye +to the walls, and if ye cannot stand erect, lean against them, and hold +brooms in your hands that the Muscovite may take them for muskets and +you for men if he comes nigh enough. Our Lady is not Joan of the +Dishclout, that such draught-house ragpickers as you should be pinned to +her tail. Set bolsters stuffed with bran on the walls! Man the gates +with faggots. Cleave beech billets half in two and set them athwart +wooden horses for officers. But insult not the sunshine by letting your +shadows fall outside the city. Break off! Dismiss! Go! Get out o' +this!" + +As Jorian stood before the levies and vomited his insults upon them, a +gleam of joy passed across chops hitherto white like fish-bellies with +the fear of death. Bleared eyes flashed with relief. And there ran a +murmur through the ragged ranks which sounded like "Thank you, great +captain!" + + * * * * * + +In a short quarter of an hour the drums of the Plassenburg Palace Guard +had beaten to arms. From gate to gate the light sea-wind had borne the +cheerful trumpet call, and when Joan returned, heartless and downcast, +with half a dozen more mouldy rascals, smelling of muck-rakes and damp +stable straw, she found before her more than half the horsemen of +Plassenburg armed cap-a-pie in burnished steel. Whereat she could only +look at Boris in astonishment. + +"Your Highness," said that captain, saluting gravely, "we are only able +to accompany you as Envoys Extraordinary of the Prince and Princess of +Plassenburg. But as such we feel it our duty in order properly to +support our state, to take with us a suitable attendance. We are sure +that neither Prince Hugo nor yet his Princess Helene would wish it +otherwise!" + +Before Joan could reply a messenger came springing up the long narrow +streets along which the disbanded levies, so vigorously contemned of +Jorian, were hurrying to their places upon the walls with a detail of +the Plassenburg men behind them, driving them like sheep. + +Joan took the letter and opened it with a jerk. + + "From High Captain von Orseln to the Princess Joan. + + "Come with all speed, if you would be in time. We are hard + beset. The enemy are all about us. Prince Conrad has ordered a + charge!" + +The face of the woman whitened as she read, but at the same moment the +fingers of Joan of the Sword Hand tightened upon the hilt. She read the +letter aloud. There was no comment. Boris cried an order, Jorian +dropped to the rear, and the retinue of the Envoys Extraordinary swung +out on the road towards the great battle. + +Outnumbered and beaten back by the locust flock which spread to either +side, far outflanking and sometimes completely enfolding his small army, +Prince Conrad still maintained himself by good generalship and the high +personal courage which stimulated his followers. The hardy Kernsbergers, +both horse and foot, whom Maurice had brought up, proved the backbone of +the defence. Besides which Werner von Orseln had striven by rebuke and +chastening, as well as by appeals to their honour, to impart some +steadiness into the Courtland ranks. But save the free knights from the +landward parts, who were driven wild by the sight of the ever-spreading +Muscovite desolation, there was little stamina among the burghers. They +were, indeed, loud and turbulent upon occasion, but they understood but +ill any concerted action. In this they differed conspicuously from their +fellows of the Hansa League, or even from the clothweavers of the +Netherland cities. + +As Joan and the war-captains of Plassenburg came nearer they heard a low +growling roar like the distant sound of the breakers on the outer shore +at Isle Rugen. It rose and fell as the fitful wind bore it towards them, +but it never entirely ceased. + +They dashed through the fords of the Alla, the three hundred lances of +the Plassenburg Guard clattering eagerly behind them. Joan led, on a +black horse which Conrad had given her. The two war-captains with one +mind set their steel caps more firmly on their heads, and as his steed +breasted the river bank Jorian laughed aloud. Angrily Joan turned in her +saddle to see what the little man was laughing at. But with quick +instinct she perceived that he laughed only as the war-horse neighs when +he scents the battle from afar. He was once more the born fighter of +men. Jorian and his mate would never be generals, but they were the best +tools any general could have. + +They came nearer. A few wreaths of smoke, hanging over the yet distant +field, told where Russ and Teuton met in battle array. A solemn +slumberous reverberation heard at intervals split the dull general roar +apart. It was the new cannon which had come from the Margraf George to +help beat back the common foe. Again and again broke in upon their +advance that appalling sound, which set the inward parts of men +quivering. Presently they began to pass limping men hasting cityward, +then fleeing and panic-stricken wretches who looked over their shoulders +as if they saw steel flashing at their backs. + +A camp-marshal or two was trying to stay these, beating them over the +head and shoulders with the flat of their swords; but not a man of the +Plassenburgers even looked towards them. Their eyes were on that distant +tossing line dimly seen amid clouds of dust, and those strange wreaths +of white smoke going upward from the cannons' mouths. The roar grew +louder; there were gaps in the fighting line; a banner went down amid +great shouting. They could see the glinting of sunshine upon armour. + +"Kernsberg!" cried Joan, her sword high in the air as she set spurs in +her black stallion and swept onward a good twenty yards before the rush +of the horsemen of Plassenburg. + +Now they began to see the arching arrow-hail, grey against the skyline +like gnat swarms dancing in the dusk of summer trees. The quarrels +buzzed. The great catapults, still used by the Muscovites, twanged like +the breaking of viol cords. + +The horses instinctively quickened their pace to take the wounded in +their stride. There--there was the thickest of the fray, where the great +cannon of the Margraf George thundered and were instantly wrapped in +their own white pall. + +[Illustration: "The sturdy form of Werner von Orseln, bestriding the +body of a fallen knight." [_Page 351_]] + +Joan's quick glance about her for Conrad told her nothing of his +whereabouts. But the two war-captains, more experienced, perceived that +the Muscovites were already everywhere victorious. Their horsemen +outflanked and overlapped the slender array of Courtland. Only about +the cannon and on the far right did any seem to be making a stand. + +"There!" cried Jorian, couching his lance, "there by the cannon is where +we will get our bellyful of fighting." + +He pointed where, amid a confusion of fighting-men, wounded and +struggling horses, and the great black tubes of the Margraf's cannon, +they saw the sturdy form of Werner von Orseln, grown larger through the +smoke and dusty smother, bestriding the body of a fallen knight. He +fought as one fights a swarm of angry bees, striking every way with a +desperate courage. + +The charging squadrons of Plassenburg divided to pass right and left of +the cannon. Joan first of all, with her sword lifted and crying not +Kernsberg now, but "Conrad! Conrad!" drave straight into the heart of +the Cossack swarm. At the trampling of the horses' feet the Muscovites +lifted their eyes. They had been too intent to kill to waste a thought +on any possible succour. + +Joan felt herself strike right and left. Her heart was crazed within her +so that she set spurs to her steed and rode him forward, plunging and +furious. Then a blowing wisp of white plume was swept aside, and through +a helmet (broken as a nut shell is cracked and falls apart) Joan saw the +fair head of her Prince. A trickle of blood wetted a clinging curl on +his forehead and stole down his pale cheek. Werner von Orseln, begrimed +and drunken with battle, bestrode the body of Prince Conrad. His +defiance rose above the din of battle. + +"Come on, cowards of the North! Taste good German steel! To me, +Kernsberg! To me, Hohenstein! Curs of Courtland, would ye desert your +Prince? Curses on you all, swart hounds of the Baltic! Let me out of +this and never a dog of you shall ever bite bread again!" + +And so, foaming in his battle anger, the ancient war-captain would have +stricken down his mistress. For he saw all things red and his heart was +bitter within him. + +With all the power that was in her, right and left Joan smote to clear +her way to Conrad, praying that if she could not save him she might at +least die with him. + +But by this time Captains Boris and Jorian, leaving their horsemen to +ride at the second line, had wheeled and now came thrusting their lances +freely into Cossack backs. These last, finding themselves thus taken in +the rear, turned and fled. + +"Hey, Werner, good lad, do not slay your comrades! Down blade, old +Thirsty. Hast thou not drunken enough blood this morning?" So cried the +war-captains as Werner dashed the blood and tears out of his eyes. + +"Back! back!" he cried, as soon as he knew with whom he had to do. "Go +back! Conrad is slain or hath a broken head. They were lashing at him as +he lay to kill him outright? Ah, viper, would you sting?" (He thrust a +wounded Muscovite through as he was crawling nearer to Conrad with a +broad knife in his hand.) "These beaten curs of Courtlanders broke at +the first attack. Get him to horse! Quick, I say. My Lady Joan, what do +you do in this place?" + +For even while he spoke Joan had dismounted and was holding Conrad's +head on her lap. With the soft white kerchief which she wore on her helm +as a favour she wiped the wound on his scalp. It was long, but did not +appear to be very deep. + +As Werner stood astonished, gazing at his mistress, Boris summoned the +trumpeter who had wheeled with him. + +"Sound the recall!" he bade him. And in a moment clear notes rang out. + +"He is not dead! Lift him up, you two!" Joan cried suddenly. "No, I will +take him on my steed. It is the strongest, and I the lightest. I alone +will bear him in." + +And before any could speak she sprang into the saddle without assistance +with all her old lightness of action, most like that of a lithe lad who +chases the colts in his father's croft that he may ride them bareback. + +So Werner von Orseln lifted the head and Boris the feet, bearing him +tenderly that they might set him upon Joan's horse. And so firm was her +seat (for she rode as the Maid rode into Orleans with Dunois on one side +and Gilles de Rais on the other), that she did not even quiver as she +received the weight. The noble black looked round once, and then, as if +understanding the thing that was required of him, he gentled himself and +began to pace slow and stately towards the city. On either side walked +tall Boris and sturdy Werner, who steadied the unconscious Prince with +the palms of their hands. + +Meanwhile the Palace Guard, with Jorian at its head, defended the slow +retreat, while on the flanks Maurice and his staunch Kernsbergers +checked the victorious advance of the Muscovites. Yet the disaster was +complete. They left the dead, they left the camp, they left the +munitions of war. They abandoned the Margraf's cannon and all his great +store of powder. And there were many that wept and some that only ground +teeth and cursed as they fell back, and heard the wailing of the women +and saw the fear whitening on the faces they loved. + +Only the Kernsbergers bit their lips and watched the eye of Maurice, by +whose side a slim page in chain-mail had ridden all day with visor down. +And the men of the Palace Guard prayed for Prince Hugo to come. + +As for Joan, she cared nothing for victory or defeat, loss or gain, +because that the man she loved leaned on her breast, bleeding and very +still. + +Yet with great gentleness she gave him down into loving hands, and +afterwards stood marble-pale beside the couch while Theresa von Lynar +unlaced his armour and washed his wounds. Then, nerving herself to see +him suffer, she murmured over to herself, once, twice, and a hundred +times, "God help me to do so and more also to those who have wrought +this--specially to Louis of Courtland and Ivan of Muscovy." + +"Abide ye, little one--be patient. Vengeance will come to both!" said +Theresa. "I, who do not promise lightly, promise it you!" + +And she laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. Never before had the +Duchess Joan been called "little one!" Yet for all her brave deeds she +laid her head on Theresa's shoulder, murmuring, "Save him--save him! I +cannot bear to lose him. Pray for him and me!" + +Theresa kissed her brow. + +"Ah," she said, "the prayers of such as Theresa von Lynar would avail +little. Yet she may be a weapon in the hand of the God of vengeance. Is +it not written that they that take the sword shall perish by the sword?" + +But already Joan had forgotten vengeance. For now the surgeons of +Courtland stood about, and she murmured, "Must he die? Tell me, will he +die?" + +And as the wise men silently shook their heads, the crying of the +victorious Muscovites could be heard outside the wall. + +Then ensued a long silence, through which broke a gust of iron-throated +laughter. It was the roar of the Margraf's captured cannon firing the +salvo of victory. + + + + +CHAPTER LI + +THERESA'S TREACHERY + + +That night the whole city of Courtland cowered in fear before its +triumphant enemy. At the nearest posts the Muscovites were in great +strength, and the sight of their burnings fretted the souls of the +citizens on guard. Some came near enough to cry insults up to the +defenders. + +"You would not have your own true Prince. Now ye shall have ours. We +will see how you like the exchange!" + +This was the cry of some renegade Courtlander, or of a Muscovite learned +(as ofttimes they are) in the speech of the West. + +But within the walls and at the gates the men of Kernsberg and +Hohenstein rubbed their hands and nudged each other. + +"Brisk lads," one said, "let us make our wills and send them by pigeon +post. I am leaving Gretchen my Book of Prayers, my Lives of the Saints, +my rosary, and my belt pounced with golden eye-holes----" + +"Methinks that last will do thy Gretchen most service," said his +companion, "since the others have gone to the vintner's long ago!" + + * * * * * + +"Thou art the greater knave to say so," retorted his companion; "and if +by God's grace we come safe out of this I will break thy head for thy +roguery!" + +The Muscovites had dragged the captured cannon in front of the +Plassenburg Gate, and now they fired occasionally, mostly great balls +of quarried stone, but afterward, as the day wore later, any piece of +metal or rock they could find. And the crash of wooden galleries and +stone machicolations followed, together with the scuttling of the +Courtland levies from the post of danger. A few of the younger citizens, +indeed, were staunch, but for the most part the Plassenburgers and +Kernsbergers were left to bite their lips and confide to each other what +their Prince Hugo or their Joan of the Hand Sword would have done to +bring such cowards to reason and right discipline. + +"An it were not for our own borders and that brave priest-prince, no +shaveling he," they said, "faith, such curs were best left to the +Muscovite. The plet and the knout were made for such as they!" + +"Not so," said he who had maligned Gretchen; "the Courtlanders are +yea-for-soothing knaves, truly; but they are Germans, and need only to +know they must, to be brave enough. One or two of our Karl's hostelries, +with thirteen lodgings on either side, every guest upright and a-swing +by the neck--these would make of the Courtlanders as good soldiers as +thyself, Hans Finck!" + +But at that moment came Captain Boris by and rebuked them sharply for +the loudness of their speech. It was approaching ten of the clock. Boris +and Jorian had already visited all the posts, and were now ready to make +their venture with Theresa von Lynar. + +"No fools like old fools!" grumbled Jorian sententiously, as he buckled +on his carinated breastplate, that could shed aside bolts, quarrels, and +even bullets from powder guns as the prow of a vessel sheds the waves to +either side in a good northerly wind. + +"'Tis you should know," retorted Boris, "being both old and a fool." + +"A man is known by the company he keeps!" answered Jorian, adjusting the +lining of his steel cap, which was somewhat in disarray after the battle +of the morning. + +"Ah!" sighed his companion. "I would that I had the choosing of the +company I am to keep this night!" + +"And I!" assented Jorian, looking solemn for once as he thought of +pretty Martha Pappenheim. + +"Well, we do it from a good motive," said Boris; "that is one comfort. +And if we lose our lives, Prince Conrad will order many masses (they +will need to be very many) for your soul's peace and good quittance from +purgatory!" + +"Humph!" said Jorian, as if he did not see much comfort in that, "I +would rather have a box on the ear from Martha Pappenheim than all the +matins of all the priests that ever sung laud!" + +"Canst have that and welcome--if her sister will do as well!" cried +Anna, as the two men went out into the long passage. And she suited the +deed to the word. + +"Oh! I have hurt my hand against that hard helmet. It serves me right +for listening! Marthe!"--she looked about for her sister before turning +to the soldiers--"see, I have hurt my hand," she added. + +Then she made the tears well up in her eyes by an art of the tongue in +the throat she had. + +"Kiss it well, Marthe!" she said, looking up at her sister as she came +along the passage swinging a lantern as carelessly as if there were not +a Muscovite in the world. + +But Boris forestalled the newcomer and caught up the small white hand in +the soft leathern grip of his palm where the ring-mail stopped. + +"_I_ will do that better than any sister!" he said. + +"That, indeed, you cannot; for only the kiss of love can make a hurt +better!" + +Anna glanced up at him with wet eyes, a little maid full of innocence +and simplicity. Most certainly she was all unconscious of the danger in +which she was putting herself. + +"Well, then, I love you!" said Boris, who did his wooing plainly. + +And did not kiss her hand. + +Meanwhile the others had wandered to the end of the passage and now +stood at the turnpike staircase, the light of Martha Pappenheim's +lantern making a dim haze of light about them. + +Anna looked at Boris as often as she could. + +"You really love me?" she questioned. "No, you cannot; you have known me +too brief a time. Besides, this is no time to speak of love, with the +enemy at the gates!" + +"Tush!" said Boris, with the roughness which Anna had looked for in vain +among all the youth of Courtland. "I tell you, girl, it is the time. You +and I are no Courtlanders, God be thanked! In a little while I shall +ride back to Plassenburg, which is a place where men live. I shall not +go alone. You, little Anna, shall come, too!" + +"You are not deceiving me?" she murmured, looking up upon occasion. +"There is none at Plassenburg whom you love at all?" + +"I have never loved any woman but you!" said Boris, settling his +conscience by adding mentally, "though I may have thought I did when I +told them so." + +"Nor I any man!" said Anna, softly meditative, making, however, a +similar addition. + +Thus Greek met Greek, and both were very happy in the belief that their +own was the only mental reservation. + +"But you are going out?" pouted Anna, after a while. "Why cannot you +stay in the Castle to-night?" + +"To-night of all nights it is impossible," said Boris. "We must make the +rounds and see that the gates are guarded. The safety of the city is in +our hands." + +"You are sure that you will not run into any danger!" said Anna +anxiously. She remembered a certain precariousness of tenure among some +of her previous--mental reservations. There was Fritz Wünch, who had +laughed at the red beard of a Prussian baron; Wilhelm of Bautzen, who +went once too often on a foray with his uncle, Fighting Max of +Castelnau---- + +For answer the staunch war-captain kissed her, and the girl clung to her +lover, this time in real tears. Martha's candle had gone out, and the +two had perforce to go down the stair in the dark. They reached the foot +at last. + +"None of them were quite like him," she owned that night to her sister. +"He takes you up as if he would break you in his arms. And he could, +too. It is good to feel!" + +"Jorian also is just like that--so satisfactory!" answered Martha. Which +shows the use Jorian must have made of his time at the stairhead, and +why Martha Pappenheim's light went out. + +"He swears he has never loved any woman before." + +"Jorian does just the same." + +"I suppose we must never tell them----" + +"Marthe--if you should dare, I will---- Besides, you were just as bad!" + +"Anna, as if I would dream of such a thing!" + +And the two innocents fell into each other's arms and embraced after the +manner of women, each in her own heart thinking how much she preferred +"the way of a man with a maid"--at least that form of it cultivated by +stout war-captains of Plassenburg. + +Without, Boris and Jorian trampled along through a furious gusting of +Baltic rain, which came in driving sheets from the north and splashed +its thumb-board drops equally upon the red roofs of Courtland, the +tented Muscovites drinking victory, and upon the dead men lying afield. +Worse still, it fell on many wounded, and to such even the thrust of the +thievish camp-follower's tolle-knife was merciful. Never could monks +more fitly have chanted, "Blessed are the dead!" than concerning those +who lay stiff and unconscious on the field where they had fought, to +whose ears the Alla sang in vain. + +Attired in her cloak of blue, with the hood pulled low over her face, +Theresa von Lynar was waiting for Boris and Jorian at the door of the +market-hospital. + +"I thank you for your fidelity," she said quickly. "I have sore need of +you. I put a great secret into your hands. I could not ask one of the +followers of Prince Conrad, nor yet a soldier of the Duchess Joan, lest +when that is done which shall be done to-night the Prince or the Duchess +should be held blameworthy, having most to gain or lose thereto. But you +are of Plassenburg and will bear me witness!" + +Boris and Jorian silently signified their obedience and readiness to +serve her. Then she gave them their instructions. + +"You will conduct me past the city guards, out through the gates, and +take me towards the camp of the Prince of Muscovy. There you will leave +me, and I shall be met by one who in like manner will lead me through +the enemy's posts." + +"And when will you return, my Lady Theresa? We shall wait for you!" + +"Thank you, gentlemen. You need not wait. I shall not return!" + +"Not return?" cried Jorian and Boris together, greatly astonished. + +"No," said Theresa very slowly and quietly, her eyes set on the +darkness. "Hear ye, Captains of Plassenburg--I will give you my mind. +You are trusty men, and can, as I have proved, hold your own counsel." + +Boris and Jorian nodded. There was no difficulty about that. + +"Good!" they said together as of old. + +As they grew older it became more and more easy to be silent. Silence +had always been easier to them than speech, and the habit clave to them +even when they were in love. + +"Listen, then," Theresa went on. "You know, and I know, that unless +quick succour come, the city is doomed. You are men and soldiers, and +whether ye make an end amid the din of battle, or escape for this time, +is a matter wherewith ye do not trouble your minds till the time comes. +But for me, be it known to you that I am the widow of Henry the Lion of +Kernsberg. My son Maurice is the true heir to the Dukedom. Yet, being +bound by an oath sworn to the man who made me his wife, I have never +claimed the throne for him. But now Joan his sister knows, and out of +her great heart she swears that she will give up the Duchy to him. If, +therefore, the city is taken, the Muscovite will slay my son, slay him +by their hellish tortures, as they have sworn to do for the despite he +put upon Prince Ivan. And his wife, the Princess Margaret, will die of +grief when they carry her to Moscow to make a bride out of a widow. Joan +will be a prisoner, Conrad either dead or a priest, and Kernsberg, the +heritage of Henry the Lion, a fief of the Czar. There is no help in any. +Your Prince would succour, but it takes time to raise the country, and +long ere he can cross the frontier the Russian will have worked his will +in Courtland. Now I see a way--a woman's way. And if I fall in the doing +of it, well--I but go to meet him for the sake of whose children I +freely give my life. In this bear me witness." + +"Madam," said Boris, gravely, "we are but plain soldiers. We pretend not +to understand the great matters of State of which you speak. But rest +assured that we will serve you with our lives, bear true witness, and in +all things obey your word implicitly." + +Without difficulty they passed through the streets and warded gates. +Werner von Orseln, indeed, tramping the inner rounds, cried "Whither +away?" Then, seeing the lady cloaked between them, he added after his +manner, "By my faith, you Plassenburgers beat the world. Hang me to a +gooseberry bush if I do not tell Anna Pappenheim of it ere to-morrow's +sunset. As I know, she will forgive inconstancy only in herself!" + +They plunged into the darkness of the outer night. As soon as they were +beyond the gates the wind drave past them hissing level. The black trees +roared overhead. At first in the swirl of the storm the three could see +nothing; but gradually the watchfires of the Muscovite came out +thicksown like stars along the rising grounds on both sides of the Alla. +Boris strode on ahead, peering anxiously into the night, and a little +behind Jorian gave Theresa his hand over the rough and uneven ground. A +pair of ranging stragglers, vultures that accompany the advance of all +great armies, came near and examined the party, but retreated promptly +as they caught the glint of the firelight upon the armour of the +war-captains. Presently they began to descend into the valley, the +iron-shod feet of the men clinking upon the stones. Theresa walked +silently, steeped in thought, laying a hand on arm or shoulder as she +had occasion. Suddenly tall Boris stopped dead and with a sweep of his +arm halted the others. + +"There!" he whispered, pointing upward. + +And against the glow thrown from behind a ridge they could see a pair of +Cossacks riding to and fro ceaselessly, dark against the ruddy sky. + +"Gott, would that I had my arbalist! I could put gimlet holes in these +knaves!" whispered Jorian over Boris's shoulder. + +"Hush!" muttered Boris; "it is lucky for Martha Pappenheim that you left +it at home!" + +"Captains Boris and Jorian," Theresa was speaking with quietness, +raising her voice just enough to make herself heard over the roar of the +wind overhead, for the nook in which they presently found themselves was +sheltered, "I bid you adieu--it may be farewell. You have done nobly and +like two valiant captains who were fit to war with Henry the Lion. I +thank you. You will bear me faithful witness in the things of which I +have spoken to you. Take this ring from me, not in recompense, but in +memory. It is a bauble worth any lady's acceptance. And you this +dagger." She took two from within her mantle, and gave one to Jorian. +"It is good steel and will not fail you. The fellow of it I will keep!" + +She motioned them backward with her hand. + +"Abide there among the bushes till you see a man come out to meet me. +Then depart, and till you have good reason keep the last secret of +Theresa, wife of Henry the Lion, Duke of Kernsberg and Hohenstein!" + +Boris and Jorian bowed themselves as low as the straitness of their +armour would permit. + +"We thank you, madam," they said; "as you have commanded, so will we +do!" + +And as they had been bidden they withdrew into a clump of willow and +alder whose leaves clashed together and snapped like whips in the wind. + +"Yonder woman is braver than you or I, Jorian," said Boris, as crouching +they watched her climb the ridge. "Which of us would do as much for any +on the earth?" + +"After all, it is for her son. If you had children, who can say----?" + +"Whether I may have children or no concerns you not," returned Boris, +who seemed unaccountably ruffled. "I only know that I would not throw +away my life for a baker's dozen of them!" + +Upon the skyline Theresa von Lynar stood a moment looking backward to +make sure that her late escort was hidden. Then she took a whistle from +her gown and blew upon it shrilly in a lull of the storm. At the sound +the war-captains could see the Cossacks drop their lances and pause in +their unwearying ride. They appeared to listen eagerly, and upon the +whistle being repeated one of them threw up a hand. Then between them +and on foot the watchers saw another man stand, a dark shadow against +the watchfires. The sentinels leaned down to speak with him, and then, +lifting their lances, they permitted him to pass between them. He was a +tall man, clad in a long caftan which flapped about his feet, a +sheepskin posteen or winter jacket, and a round cap of fur, high-crowned +and flat-topped, upon his head. + +He came straight towards Theresa as if he expected a visitor. + +The two men in hiding saw him take her hand as a host might that of an +honoured guest, kiss it reverently, and then lead her up the little hill +to where the sentinels waited motionless on their horses. So soon as the +pair had passed within the lines, their figures and the Cossack salute +momentarily silhouetted against the watchfires, the twin horsemen +resumed their monotonous ride. + +By this time Jorian's head was above the bushes and his eyes stood well +nigh out of his head. + +"Down, fool!" growled Boris, taking him by the legs and pulling him +flat; "the Cossacks will see you!" + +"Boris," gasped Jorian, who had descended so rapidly that the fall and +the weight of his plate had driven the wind out of him, "I know that +fellow. I have seen him before. It is Prince Wasp's physician, Alexis +the Deacon. I remember him in Courtland when first we came thither!" + +"Well, and what of that?" grunted Boris, staring at the little detached +tongues of willow-leaf flame which were blown upward from the Muscovite +watchfires. + +"What of that, man?" retorted Boris. "Why, only this. We have been +duped. She was a traitress, after all. This has been planned a long +while." + +"Traitress or saint, it is none of our business," said Boris grimly. "We +had better get ourselves within the walls of Courtland, and say nothing +to any of this night's work!" + +"At any rate," added the long man as an afterthought, "I have the ring. +It will be a rare gift for Anna." + +Jorian looked ruefully at his dagger, holding it between the rustling +alder leaves, so as to catch the light from the watchfires. The red glow +fell on a jewel in the hilt. + +"'Tis a pretty toy enough, but how can I give that to Marthe? It is not +a fit keepsake for a lady!" + +"Well," said Boris, suddenly appeased, "I will swop you for it. I am not +so sure that my pretty spitfire would not rather have it than any ring I +could give her. Shall we exchange?" + +"But we promised to keep them as souvenirs?" urged Jorian, whose +conscience smote him slightly. "One does not tell lies to a lady--at +least where one can help it." + +"It depends upon the lady!" said Boris practically. "You can tell your +Marthe the truth. I will please myself with Anna. Hand over the dagger." + +So wholly devoid of sentiment are war-captains when they deal with +keepsakes. + + + + +CHAPTER LII + +THE MARGRAF'S POWDER CHESTS + + +It was indeed Alexis the Deacon who met the Lady Theresa. And the matter +had been arranged, just as Boris said. Alexis the Deacon, a wise man of +many disguises, remained in Courtland after the abrupt departure of +Prince Ivan. Theresa had found him in the hospital, where, sheltered by +a curtain, she heard him talk with a dying man--the son of a Greek +merchant domiciled in Courtland, whose talent for languages and quick +intelligence had induced Prince Conrad to place him on his immediate +staff of officers. + +"I bid you reveal to me the plans and intents of the Prince," Theresa +heard Alexis say, "otherwise I cannot give you absolution. I am priest +as well as doctor." + +At this the young Greek groaned and turned aside his head, for he loved +the Prince. Nevertheless, he spoke into the ear of the physician all he +knew, and as reward received a sleeping draught, which induced the sleep +from which none waken. + +And afterwards Theresa had spoken also. + +So it was this same Alexis--spy, priest, surgeon, assassin, and chief +confidant of Ivan Prince of Muscovy--who, in front of the watchfires, +bent over the hand of Theresa von Lynar on that stormy night which +succeeded the crowning victory of the Russian arms in Courtland. + +"This way, madam. Fear not. The Prince is eagerly awaiting you--both +Princes, indeed," Alexis said, as he led her into the camp through +lines of lighted tents and curious eyes looking at them from the +darkness. "Only tell them all that you have to tell, and, trust me, +there shall be no bounds to the gratitude of the Prince, or of Alexis +the Deacon, his most humble servant." + +Theresa thought of what this boundless gratitude had obtained for the +young Greek, and smiled. They came to an open space before a lighted +pavilion. Before the door stood a pair of officers trying in vain to +shield their gay attire under scanty shoulder cloaks from the hurtling +inclemency of the night. Their ready swords, however, barred the way. + +"To see the Prince--his Highness expects us," said Alexis, without any +salute. And with no further objection the two officers stood aside, +staring eagerly and curiously however under the hood of the lady's cloak +whom Alexis brought so late to the tent of their master. + +"Ha!" muttered one of them confidentially as the pair passed within, "I +often wondered what kept our Ivan so long in Courtland. It was more than +his wooing of the Princess Margaret, I will wager!" + +"Curse the wet!" growled his fellow, turning away. He felt that it was +no time for speculative scandal. + +Theresa and her conductor stood within the tent of the commander of the +Muscovite army. The glow of light, though it came only from candles set +within lanterns of horn, was great enough to be dazzling to her eyes. +She found herself in the immediate presence of Prince Ivan, who rose +with his usual lithe grace to greet her. An older man, with a grey +pinched face, sat listlessly with his elbow on the small camp table. He +leaned his forehead on his palm, and looked down. Behind, in the half +dark of the tent, a low wide divan with cushions was revealed, and all +the upper end of the tent was filled up with a huge and shadowy pile of +kegs and boxes, only half concealed behind a curtain. + +"I bid you welcome, my lady," said Prince Ivan, taking her hand. "Surely +never did ally come welcomer than you to our camp to-night. My servant +Alexis has told me of your goodwill--both towards ourselves and to +Prince Louis." (He indicated the silent sitting figure with a little +movement of his hand sufficiently contemptuous.) "Let us hear your news, +and then will we find you such lodging and welcome as may be among rough +soldiers and in a camp of war." + +As he was speaking Theresa von Lynar loosened her long cloak of blue, +its straight folds dank and heavy with the rains. The eyes of the Prince +of Muscovy grew wider. Hitherto this woman had been to him but a common +traitress, possessed of great secrets, doubtless to be flattered a +little, and then--afterwards--thrown aside. Now he stood gazing at her +his hands resting easily on the table, his body a little bent. As she +revealed herself to him the pupils of his eyes dilated, and amber gleams +seemed to shoot across the irises. He thought he had never seen so +beautiful a woman. As he stood there, sharpening his features and +moistening his lips, Prince Ivan looked exceedingly like a beast of prey +looking out of his hole upon a quarry which comes of its own accord +within reach of his claws. + +But in a moment he had recovered himself, and came forward with renewed +reverence. + +"Madam," he said, bowing low, "will you be pleased to sit down? You are +wet and tired." + +He went to the flap of the pavilion and pushed aside the dripping flap. + +"Alexis!" he cried, "call up my people. Bid them bring a brazier, and +tell these lazy fellows to serve supper in half an hour on peril of +their heads!" + +He returned and stood before Theresa, who had sunk back as if fatigued +on an ottoman covered with thick furs. Her feet nestled in the bearskins +which covered the floor. The Prince looked anxiously down. + +"Pardon me, your shoes are wet," he said. "We are but Muscovite boors, +but we know how to make ladies comfortable. Permit me!" + +And before Theresa could murmur a negative the Prince had knelt down and +was unloosing the latchets of her shoes. + +"A moment!" he said, as he sprang again to his feet with the lithe +alertness which distinguished him. Prince Ivan ran to a corner where, +with the brusque hand of a master, he had tossed a score of priceless +furs to the ground. He rose again and came towards Theresa with a flash +of something scarlet in his hand. + +"You will pardon us, madam," he said, "you are our guest--the sole lady +in our camp. I lay it upon your good nature to forgive our rude +makeshifts." + +And again Prince Ivan knelt. He encased Theresa's feet in dainty +Oriental slippers, small as her own, and placed them delicately and +respectfully on the couch. + +"There, that is better!" he said, standing over her tenderly. + +"I thank you, Prince." She answered the action more than the words, +smiling upon him with her large graciousness; "I am not worthy of so +great favour." + +"My lady," said the Prince, "it is a proverb of our house that though +one day Muscovy shall rule the world, a woman will always rule Muscovy. +I am as my fathers were!" + +Theresa did not answer. She only smiled at the Prince, leaning a little +further back and resting her head easily upon the palm of her hand. The +servitors brought in more lamps, which they slung along the ridge-pole +of the roof, and these shedding down a mellow light enhanced the ripe +splendour of Theresa's beauty. + +Prince Ivan acknowledged to himself that he had spoken the truth when he +said that he had never seen a woman so beautiful. Margaret?--ah, +Margaret was well enough; Margaret was a princess, a political +necessity, but this woman was of a nobler fashion, after a mode more +truly Russ. And the Prince of Muscovy, who loved his fruit with the +least touch of over-ripeness, would not admit to himself that this +woman was one hour past the prime of her glorious beauty. And indeed +there was much to be said for this judgment. + +Theresa's splendid head was set against the dusky skins. Her rich hair +of Venice gold, escaping a little from the massy carefulness of its +ordered coils, had been blown into wet curls that clung closely to her +white neck and tendrilled about her broad low brow. The warmth of the +tent and the soft luxury of the rich rugs had brought a flush of red to +a cheek which yet tingled with the volleying of the Baltic raindrops. + +"Alexis never told me this woman was so beautiful," he said to himself. +"Who is she? She cannot be of Courtland. Such a marvel could not have +been hidden from me during all my stay there!" + +So he addressed himself to making the discovery. + +"My lady," he said, "you are our guest. Will you deign to tell us how +more formally we may address you? You are no Courtlander, as all may +see!" + +"I am a Dane," she answered smiling; "I am called the Lady Theresa. For +the present let that suffice. I am venturing much to come to you thus! +My father and brothers built a castle upon the Baltic shore on land that +has been the inheritance of my mother. Then came the reivers of +Kernsberg and burned the castle to the ground. They burned it with fire +from cellar to roof-tree. And they slackened the fire with the blood of +my nearest kindred!" + +As she spoke Theresa's eyes glittered and altered. The Prince read +easily the meaning of that excitement. How was he to know all that lay +behind? + +"And so," he said, "you have no good-will to the Princess Joan of +Hohenstein--and Courtland. Or to any of her favourers?" he added after a +pause. + +At the name the grey-headed man, who had been sitting unmoved by the +table with his elbow on the board, raised a strangely wizened face to +Theresa's. + +"What"--he said, in broken accents, stammering in his speech and +grappling with the words as if, like a wrestler at a fair, he must throw +each one severally--"what--who has a word to say against the Lady Joan, +Princess of Courtland? Whoso wrongs her has me to reckon with--aye, were +it my brother Ivan himself!" + +"Not I, certainly, my good Louis," answered Ivan easily. "I would not +wrong the lady by word or deed for all Germany from Bor-Russia to the +Rhine-fall!" + +He turned to Alexis the Deacon, who was at his elbow. + +"Fill up his cup--remember what I bade you!" he said sharply in an +undertone. + +"His cup is full, he will drink no more. He pushes it from him!" +answered Alexis in the same half-whisper. But neither, as it seemed, +took any particular pains to prevent their words carrying to the ear of +Prince Louis. And, indeed, they had rightly judged. For swiftly as it +had come the momentary flash of manhood died out on the meagre face. The +arm upon which he had leaned swerved limply aside, and the grey beard +fell helplessly forward upon the table. + +"So much domestic affection is somewhat belated," said Prince Ivan, +regarding Louis of Courtland with disgust. "Look at him! Who can wonder +at the lady's taste? He is a pretty Prince of a great province. But if +he live he will do well enough to fill a chair and hold a golden rod. +Take him away, Alexis!" + +"Nay," said Theresa, with quick alarm, "let him stay. There are many +things to speak of. We may need to consult Prince Louis later." + +"I fear the Prince will not be of great use to us," smiled Prince Ivan. +"If only I had known, I would have conserved his princely senses more +carefully. But for heads like his the light wine of our country is +dangerously strong." + +He glanced about the pavilion. The servants had not yet retired. + +"Convey his Highness to the rear, and lay him upon the powder barrels!" +He indicated with his hand the array of boxes and kegs piled in the dusk +of the tent. The servitors did as they were told; they lifted Prince +Louis and would have carried him to that grim couch, but, struck with +some peculiarity, Alexis the Deacon suddenly bent over his lax body and +thrust his hand into the bosom of his princely habit, now tarnished +thick with wine stains and spilled meats. + +"Excellency," he said, turning to his master, "the Prince is dead! His +heart does not beat. It is the stroke! I warned you it would come!" + +Prince Ivan strode hastily towards the body of Louis of Courtland. + +"Surely not?" he cried, in seeming astonishment. "This may prove very +inconvenient. Yet, after all, what does it matter? With your assistance, +madam, the city is ours. And then, what matters dead prince or living +prince? A garrison in every fort, a squadron of good Cossacks pricking +across every plain, a tax-collector in every village--these are the best +securities of princedom. But this is like our good Louis. He never did +anything at a right time all his life." + +Theresa stood on the other side of the dead man as the servitors lowered +him for the inspection of their lord. The weary wrinkled face had been +smoothed as with the passage of a hand. Only the left corner of the +mouth was drawn down, but not so much as to be disfiguring. + +"I am glad he spoke kindly of his wife at the last," she murmured. And +she added to herself, "This falls out well--it relieves me of a +necessity." + +"Spoken like a woman!" cried Prince Ivan, looking admiringly at her. +"Pray forgive my bitter speech, and remember that I have borne long with +this man!" + +He turned to the servitors and directed them with a motion of his hand +towards the back of the pavilion. + +"Drop the curtain," he said. + +And as the silken folds rustled heavily down the curtain fell upon the +career and regality of Louis, Prince of Courtland, hereditary Defender +of the Holy See. + +The men did not bear him far. They placed him upon the boxes of the +powder for the Margraf's cannon, which for safety and dryness Ivan had +bade them bring to his own pavilion. The dead man lay in the dark, +open-eyed, staring at the circling shadows as the servitors moved +athwart the supper table, at which a woman sat eating and drinking with +her enemy. + + * * * * * + +Theresa von Lynar sat directly opposite the Prince of Muscovy. The board +sparkled with mellow lights reflected from many lanterns. The servitors +had departed. Only the measured tread of the sentinels was heard +without. They were alone. + +And then Theresa spoke. Very fully she told what she had learned of the +defences of the place, which gates were guarded by the Kernsbergers, +which by the men of Plassenburg, which by the remnants of the broken +army of Courtland. She spoke in a hushed voice, the Prince sipping and +nodding as he looked into her eyes. She gave the passwords of the inner +and outer defences, the numbers of the defenders at each gate, the plans +for bringing provisions up the Alla--indeed, everything that a besieging +general needs to know. + +And so soon as she had told the passwords the Prince asked her to pardon +him a moment. He struck a silver bell and with scarce a moment's delay +Alexis entered. + +"Go," said the Prince; "send one of our fellows familiar with the speech +of Courtland into the city by the Plassenburg Gate. The passwords are +'_Henry the Lion_' at the outer gate and '_Remember_' at the inner port. +Let the man be dressed in the habit of a countryman, and carry with him +some wine and provend. Follow him and report immediately." + +While the Prince was speaking he had never taken his eyes off Theresa +von Lynar, though he had appeared to be regarding Alexis the Deacon. +Theresa did not blanch. Not a muscle of her face quivered. And within +his Muscovite heart, full of treachery as an egg of meat, Prince Ivan +said, "She is no traitress, this dame; but a simpleton with all her +beauty. The woman is speaking the truth." + +And Theresa was speaking the truth. She had expected some such test and +was prepared; but she only told the defenders' plans to one man; and as +for the passwords, she had arranged with Boris that at the earliest dawn +they were to be changed and the forces redistributed. + +While these two waited for the return of Alexis, the Prince encouraged +Theresa to speak of her wrongs. He watched with approbation the sparkle +of her eye as he spoke of Joan of the Sword Hand. He noted how she shut +down her lips when Henry the Lion was mentioned, how her voice shook as +she recounted the cruel end of her kin. + +Though at ordinary times most sober, the Prince now added cup to cup, +and like a Muscovite he grew more bitter as the wine mounted to his +head. He leaned forward and laid his hand upon his companion's white +wrist. Theresa quivered a little, but did not take it away. The Prince +was becoming confidential. + +"Yes," he said, leaning towards her, "you have suffered great wrongs, +and do well to hate with the hate that craves vengeance. But even you +shall be satisfied. To-morrow and to-morrow's to-morrow you and I shall +have out our hearts' desire upon our enemies. Yes, for many days. +Sweet--sweet it shall be--sweet, and very slow; for I, too, have wrongs, +as you shall hear." + +"Truly, I did well to come to you!" said Theresa, giving her hand +willingly into his. He clasped her fingers and would have kissed her but +for the table between. + +"You speak truth." He hissed the words bitterly. "Indeed, you did better +than well. I also have wrongs, and Ivan of Muscovy will show you a +Muscovite vengeance. + +"This Prince Conrad of theirs baulked me of my revenge and drove me +from the city. Him will I take and burn at the stake in his priest's +robes, as if he were saying mass--or, better still, in the red of the +cardinal's habit with his hat upon his head. And ere he dies he shall +see his paramour carried to her funeral. For I will give you the life of +the woman for whose sake he thwarted Ivan of Muscovy. If you will it, no +hand but yours shall have the shedding of the blood of your house's +enemy. Is not this your vengeance already sweet in prospect?" + +"It is sweet indeed!" answered Theresa. + +"Your Highness!" said the voice of Alexis at the tent door, "am I +permitted to speak?" + +"Speak on!" cried Ivan, without relaxing his clasp upon the hand of +Theresa von Lynar. Indeed, momentarily it became a grip. + +"The man went safely through at the Plassenburg Gate. The passwords were +correct. The man who challenged spoke with a Kernsberg accent!" + +The Prince's grasp relaxed. + +"It is well," he said. "Now go to the captains and tell them to be in +their posts about the city according to the plan--the main assault to be +delivered by the gate of the sea. At dawn I will be with you! Go! Above +all, do not forget the passwords--first '_Henry the Lion!_' then +'_Remember!_'" + +Alexis the Deacon saluted and went. + +The Prince rose and came about the table nearer to Theresa von Lynar. +She drew her breath quickly and checked it as sharply with a kind of +sob. Her left hand went down to her side as naturally as a nun's to her +rosary. But it was no rosary her fingers touched. The action steadied +her, and she threw back her head and smiled up at her companion +debonairly as though she had no care in the world. + +Theresa repeated the passwords slowly and audibly. + +"'_Henry the Lion!_' '_Remember!_' Ah!" (she broke off with a laugh) "I +am not likely to forget." Ivan laid his hand on her shoulder, glad to +see her so resolute. + +"All in good time," he said, sitting down on a stool at her feet and +taking her hand--her right hand. The other he did not see. Then he spoke +confidentially. + +"One other revenge I have which I shall keep till the last. It shall be +as sweet to me as yours to you. I shall draw it out lingeringly that I +may drain all its sweetness. It concerns the upstart springald whom the +Princess Margaret had the bad taste to prefer to me. Not that I cared a +jot for the Princess. My taste is far other" (here he looked up +tenderly); "but the Princess I must wed, as maid or widow I care not. I +take her provinces, not herself; and these must be mine by right of fief +and succession as well as by right of conquest. The way is clear. That +piece of carrion which men called by a prince's name was carried out a +while ago. Conrad the priest, who is a man, shall die like a man. And I, +Ivan, and Holy Russia shall enter in. By the right of Margaret, sole +heir of Courtland, city and province shall be mine; Kernsberg shall be +mine; Hohenstein shall be mine. Then mayhap I will try a fall for +Plassenburg and the Mark with the Executioner's Son and his little +housewife. But sweeter than all shall be my revenge upon the man I +hate--upon him who took his betrothed wife from Ivan of Muscovy." + +"Ah," said Theresa von Lynar, "it will indeed be sweet! And what shall +be your worthy and terrible revenge?" + +"I have thought of it long--I have turned it over, this and that have I +thought--of the smearing with honey and the anthill, of trepanning and +the worms on the brain--but I have fixed at last upon something that +will make the ears of the world tingle----" + +He leaned forward and whispered into the ear of Theresa von Lynar the +terrible death he had prepared for her only son. She nodded calmly as +she listened, but a wonderful joy lit up the woman's face. + +"I am glad I came hither," she murmured, "it is worth it all." + +Prince Ivan took her hand in both of his and pressed it fondly. + +"And you shall be gladder yet," he said, "my Lady Theresa. I have +something to say. I had not thought that there lived in the world any +woman so like-minded, even as I knew not that there lived any woman so +beautiful. Together you and I might rule the world. Shall it be +together?" + +"But, Prince Ivan," she interposed quickly, but still smiling, "what is +this? I thought you were set on wedding the Princess Margaret. You were +to make her first widow and then wife." + +"Theresa," he said, looking amorously up at her, "I marry for a kingdom. +But I wed the woman who is my mate. It is our custom. I must give the +left hand, it is true, but with it the heart, my Theresa!" + +He was on his knees before her now, still clasping her fingers. + +"You consent?" he said, with triumph already in his tone. + +"I do not say you nay!" she answered, with a sigh. + +He kissed her hand and rose to his feet. He would have taken her in his +arms, but a noise in the pavilion disturbed him. He went quickly to the +curtain and peeped through. + +"It is nothing," he said, "only the men come to fetch the powder for the +Margraf's cannon. But the night speeds apace. In an hour we assault." + +With an eager look on his face he came nearer to her. + +"Theresa," he said, "a soldier's wooing must needs be brisk and speedy. +Yours and mine yet swifter. Our revenge beckons us on. Do you abide here +till I return--with those good friends whose names we have mentioned. +But now, ere I go forth, pledge me but once your love. This is our true +betrothal. Say, 'I love you, Ivan!' that I may keep it in my heart till +my return!" + +Again he would have taken her in his arms, but Theresa turned quickly, +finger on lip. She looked anxiously towards the back of the tent where +lay the dead prince. "Hush! I hear something!" she said. + +Then she smiled upon him--a sudden radiance like sunshine through +rain-clouds. + +"Come with me--I am afraid of the dark!" she said, almost like a child. +For great is the guile of woman when her all is at stake. + +Theresa von Lynar opened the latch of a horn lantern which dangled at a +pole and took the taper in her left. She gave her right hand with a +certain gesture of surrender to Prince Ivan. + +"Come!" she said, and led him within the inner pavilion. A dim light +sifted through the open flap by which the men had gone out with their +load of powder. Day was breaking and a broad crimson bar lay across the +path of the yet unrisen sun. Theresa and Prince Ivan stood beside the +dead. He had been roughly thrown down on the pile of boxes which +contained the powder manufactured by the Margraf's alchemists according +to the famous receipt of Bertholdus Schwartz. The lid of the largest +chest stood open, as if the men were returning for yet another burden. + +"Quick!" she said, "here in the presence of the dead, I will whisper it +here, here and not elsewhere." + +She brought him close to her with the gentle compulsion of her hand till +he stood in a little angle where the red light of the dawn shone on his +dark handsome face. Then she put an arm strong as a wrestler's about +him, pinioning him where he stood. Yet the gracious smile on the woman's +lips held him acquiescent and content. + +She bent her head. + +[Illustration: "'The password, Prince--do not forget the password!'" +[_Page 379_]] + +"Listen," she said, "this have I never done for any man before--no, not +so much as this! And for you will I do much more. Prince Ivan, you speak +true--death alone must part you and me. You ask me for a love pledge. I +will give it. Ivan of Muscovy, you have plotted death and torture--the +death of the innocent. Listen! I am the wife of Henry of Kernsberg, the +mother of the young man Maurice von Lynar whom you would slay by +horrid devices. Prince, truly you and I shall die together--and the time +is _now_!" + +Vehemently for his life struggled Prince Ivan, twisting like a serpent, +and crying, "Help! Help! Treachery! Witch, let me go, or I will stab you +where you stand." Once his hand touched his dagger. But before he could +draw it there came a sound of rushing feet. The forms of many men +stumbled up out of the gleaming blood-red of the dawn. + +Then Theresa von Lynar laughed aloud as she held him helpless in her +grasp. + +"The password, Prince--do not forget the password! You will need it +to-night at both inner and outer guard! I, Theresa, have not forgotten. +It is '_Henry the Lion_! _Remember!_'" + +And Theresa dropped the naked candle she had been holding aloft into the +great chest of dull black grains which stood open by her side. + + * * * * * + +And after that it mattered little that at the same moment beyond the +Alla the trumpets of Hugo, Prince of Plassenburg, blew their first +awakening blast. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII + +THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH VISIBLE + + +"So," said Pope Sixtus amicably, "your brother was killed by the great +explosion of Friar Roger's powder in the camp of the enemy! Truly, as I +have often said, God is not with the Greek Church. They are schismatics +if not plain heretics!" + +He was a little bored with this young man from the North, and began to +remember the various distractions which were waiting for him in his own +private wing of the Vatican. Still, the Church needed such young +war-gods as this Prince Conrad. There were signs, too, that in a little +she might need them even more. + +The Pope's mind travelled fast. He had a way of murmuring broken +sentences to himself which to his intimates showed how far his thoughts +had wandered. + +It was the Vatican garden in the month of April. Holy Week was past, and +the mind of the Vicar of Christ dwelt contentedly upon the great gifts +and offerings which had flowed into his treasury. Conrad could not have +arrived more opportunely. Beneath, the eye travelled over the hundred +churches of Rome and the red roofs of her palaces--to the Tiber no +longer tawny, but well-nigh as blue as the Alla itself; then further +still to the grey Campagna and the blue Alban Hills. But the Pope's eye +was directed to something nearer at hand. + +In an elevated platform garden they sat in a bower sipping their +after-dinner wine. Beyond answering questions Conrad said little. He +was too greatly astonished. He had expected a saint, and he had found +himself quietly talking politics and scandal with an Italian Prince. The +Holy Father's face was placid. His lips moved. Now and then a word or +two escaped him. Yet he seemed to be listening to something else. + +That which he looked at was an excavation over which thousands of men +crawled, thick as ants about a mound when you thrust your stick among +their piled pine-needles on Isle Rugen. Already at more than one point +massive walls began to rise. Architects with parchment rolls in their +hands went to and fro talking to overseers and foremen. These were clad +in black coats reaching below the waist, which made inky blots on the +white earth-glare and contrasted with the striped blouses of the +overseers and the naked bodies and red loin-cloths of the workmen. + +Conrad blessed his former sojourns in Italy which enabled him to follow +the fast-running river of the Pontiff's half-unconscious meditation, +which was couched not in crabbed monkish Latin, but in the free Italic +to which as a boy the Head of the Church had been accustomed. + +"So your brother is dead!--(Yes, yes, he told me so before.) And a +blessing of God, too. I never liked my brothers. Nephews and nieces are +better, so be they are handsome. What, you have none? Then you are the +heir to the kingdom--you must marry--you must marry!" + +Conrad suddenly flushed fiery red. + +"Holy Father," he said nervously, his eyes on the Alban Hills, "it was +concerning this that I made pilgrimage to Rome--that I might consult +your Holiness!" + +The Pontiff nodded amicably and looked about him. At the far end of the +garden, in a second creeper-enclosed arbour similar to that in which +they sat, the Pope's personal attendants congregated. These were mostly +gay young men in parti-coloured raiment, who jested and laughed without +much regard for appearances, or at all fearing the displeasure of the +Church's Head. As Conrad looked, one of them stood up and tossed over +the wall a delicately folded missive, winged like a dart and tied with a +ribbon of fluttering blue. Then, the moment afterwards, from beneath +came the sound of girlish laughter, whereat all the young men, save one, +craned their necks over the wall and shouted jests down to the unseen +ladies on the balcony below. + +All save one--and he, a tall stern-faced dark young man in a plain black +soutane, walked up and down in the sun, with his eyes on the ground and +his hands knotting themselves behind his back. The fingers were twisting +nervously, and he pursed his lips in meditation. He did not waste even +one contemptuous glance on the riotous crew in the arbour. + +"Aha--you came to consult me about your marriage," chuckled the Holy +Father. "Well, what have you been doing? Young blood--young blood! Once +I was young myself. But young blood must pay. I am your father +confessor. Now, proceed. (This may be useful--better, better, better!)" + +And with a wholly different air of interest, the Pope poured himself a +glass of the rich wine and leaned back, contemplating the young man now +with a sort of paternal kindliness. The thought that he had certain +peccadillos to confess was a relish to the rich Sicilian vintage, and +created, as it were, a common interest between them. For the first time +Pope Sixtus felt thoroughly at ease with his guest. + +"I have, indeed, much to confess, Holy Father, much I could not pour +into any ears but thine." + +"Yes--yes--I am all attention," murmured the Pontiff, his ears pricking +and twitching with anticipation, and the famous likeness to a goat +coming out in his face. "Go on! Go on, my son. Confession is the +breathing health of the soul! (If this young man can tell me aught I do +not know--by Peter, I will make him my private chaplain!)." + +Then Conrad summoned up all his courage and put his soul's sickness into +the sentence which he had been conning all the way from the city of +Courtland. + +"My father," he said, very low, his head bent down, "I, who am a priest, +have loved the Lady Joan, my brother's wife!" + +"Ha," said Sixtus, pursing his lips, "that is bad--very bad. (Bones of +Saint Anthony! I did not think he had the spirit!) Penance must be +done--yes, penance and payment! But hath the matter been secret? There +has, I hope, been no open scandal; and of course it cannot continue now +that your brother is dead. While he was alive all was well; but +dead--oh, that is different! You have now no cloak for your sin! These +open sores do the Church much harm! I have always avoided such myself!" + +The young man listened with a swiftly lowering brow. + +"Holy Father," he said; "I think you mistake me. I spoke not of sin +committed. The Princess Joan is pure as an angel, unstained by evil or +the thought of it! She sits above the reach of scandalous tongues!" + +("Humph--what, then, is the man talking about? Some cold northern +snowdrift! Strange, strange! I thought he had been a lad of spirit!") + +But aloud Sixtus said, with a surprised accent, "Then why do you come to +me?" + +"Sire, I am a priest, and even the thought of love is sin!" + +"Tut-tut; you are a prince-cardinal. In Rome at least that is a very +different thing!" + +He turned half round in his seat and looked with a certain indulgent +fondness upon the gay young men who were conducting a battle of flowers +with the laughing girls beneath them. Two of them had laid hold of +another by the legs and were holding him over the trellised flowers that +he might kiss a girl whom her companions were elevating from below for a +like purpose. As their young lips met the Pontiff slapped the purple +silk on his thigh and laughed aloud. + +"Ah, rascals, merry rascals!" (here he sighed). "What it is to be +young! Take an old man's advice, Live while you are young. Yes, live and +leave penance, for old age is sufficient penance in itself. (Tut--what +am I saying? Let his pocket do penance!) He who kissed was my nephew +Girolamo, ever the flower of the flock, my dear Girolamo. I think you +said, Prince Conrad, that you were a cardinal. Well, most of these young +men are cardinals (or will be, so soon as I can get the gold to set them +up. They spend too much money, the rascals)." + +"These are cardinals? And priests?" queried Conrad, vastly astonished. + +The Holy Father nodded and took another sip of the perfumed Sicilian. + +"To be a cardinal is nothing," he said calmly. "It is a step--nothing +more. The high road of advancement, the spirit of the time. When I have +princedoms for them all, why, they must marry and settle--raise +dynasties, found princely houses. So it shall be with you, son Conrad. +Your brother was alive, Prince of Courtland, married to this fair lady +(what was her name? Yes, yes, Joanna). You, a younger son, must be +provided for, the Church supported. Therefore you received that which +was the hereditary right of your family--the usual payments to Holy +Church being made. You were Archbishop, Cardinal, Prince of the Church. +In time you would have been Elector of the Empire and my assessor at the +Imperial Diet. That was your course. What harm, then, that you should +make love to your brother's wife? Natural--perfectly natural. Fortunate, +indeed, that you had a brother so complaisant----" + +"Sir," said Conrad, half rising from his seat, "I have already had the +honour of informing you----" + +"Yes, yes, I forgot--pardon an old man. (Ah, the rascal, would he? +Served him right! Ha, ha, well smitten--a good girl!)" + +Another had tried the trick of being held over the balcony, but this +time the maiden below was coy, and, instead of a kiss, the youth had +received only a sound smack on the cheek fairly struck with the palm of +a willing hand. + +"Yes, I remember. It was but a sin of the soul. (Stupid fellow! stupid +fellow! Girolamo is a true Delia Rovere. He would not have been served +so.) Yes, a sin of the soul. And now you wish to marry? Well, I will +receive back your hat. I will annul your orders--the usual payments +being made to Holy Church. I have so many expenses--my building, the +decorations of my chapel, these young rascals--ah, little do you know +the difficulties of a Pope. But whom do you wish to marry? What, your +brother's widow? Ah, that is bad--why could you not be content----? +Pardon, your pardon, my mind is again wandering." + +"Tsut--tsut--this is a sad business, a matter infinitely more difficult, +forbidden by the Church. What? They parted at the church door? A wench +of spirit, I declare. I doubt not like that one who smote Pietro just +now. I wonder not at you, save at your moderation--that is, if you speak +the truth." + +"I do speak the truth!" said Conrad, with northern directness, beginning +to flush again. + +"Gently--gently," said Sixtus; "there are many minutes in a year, many +people go to make a world. I have never seen a man like you before. Be +patient, then, with me. I am giving you a great deal of my time. It will +be difficult, this marriage--difficult, but not impossible. Peter's +coffers are very empty, my son." + +The Pontiff paused to give Conrad time to speak. + +"I will pay into the treasury of the Holy Father on the day of my +marriage a hundred thousand ducats," said Conrad, blushing deeply. It +seemed like bribing God. + +The Vicegerent of Christ stretched out a smooth white hand, and his +smile was almost as gracious as when he turned it upon his nephew +Girolamo. + +"Spoken like a true prince," he cried, "a son of the Church indeed. Her +works--the propagation of the Faith, the Holy Office--these shall +benefit by your generosity." + +He turned about again and beckoned to the tall young man in the black +soutane. + +"Guliano, come hither!" he cried, and as he came he explained in his low +tones, "My nephew, between ourselves, a dull dog, but will be great. He +choked a ruffian who attacked him on the street; so, one day, he will +choke this Italy between his hands. He will sit in this chair. Ah, there +is one thing that I am thankful for, and it is that I shall be dead when +our Julian is Pope. I know not where I shall be--but anything were +preferable to being in Rome under Julian--purgatory or----Yes, my dear +nephew, Prince Conrad of Courtland! You are to go and prepare documents +concerning this noble prince. I will instruct you as to their nature +presently. Await me in the hither library." + +The young man had been looking steadily at Conrad while his uncle was +speaking. It was a firm and manly look, but there was cruelty lurking in +the curve of the upper lip. Guliano della Rovere looked more +_condottiere_ than priest. Nevertheless, without a word he bowed and +retired. + +When he was gone the Pope sat a moment absorbed in thought. + +"I will send him to Courtland with you. (Yes, yes, he is staunch and to +be trusted with money.) He will marry you and bring back +the--the--benefaction. Your hand, my son. I am an old man and need help. +May you be happy! Live well and honour Holy Church. Be not too nice. The +commons like not a precisian. And, besides, you cannot live your youth +over. Girolamo! Girolamo! Where is that rascal? Ah, there you are. I saw +you kiss yonder pretty minx! Shame, sir, shame! You shall do penance--I +myself will prescribe it. What kept you so long when I called you? Some +fresh rascality, I will wager!" + +"No, my father," said Girolamo readily. "I went to the dungeons of the +Holy Office to see if they had finished off that ranting philosopher who +stirred up the people yesterday!" + +"Well, and have they?" asked the Pontiff. + +"Yes, the fellow has confessed that six thousand pieces are hidden under +the hearthstone of his country house. So all is well ended. He is to be +burned to-morrow." + +"Good--good. So perish all Jews, heretics, and enemies of Holy Church!" +said Pope Sixtus piously. "And now I bid you adieu, son Conrad! You set +out to-morrow. The papers shall be ready. A hundred thousand ducats, I +think you said--_and_ the fees for secularisation. These will amount to +fifty thousand more. Is it not so, my son?" + +Conrad bowed assent. He thought it was well that Courtland was rich and +his brother Louis a careful man. + +"Good--good, my son. You are a true standard-bearer of the Church. I +will throw in a perpetual indulgence--with blanks which you may fill up. +No, do not refuse! You think that you will never want it, because you do +not want it now. But you may--you may!" + +He stretched out his hand. The blessed ring of Saint Peter shone upon +it. Conrad fell on his knees. + +"_Pater Domini nostri Jesu Christi benedicat te in omni benedictione +spirituali. Amen!_" + + + + +EPILOGUE OF EXPLICATION + + +It was the morning of a white day. The princely banner flew from every +tower in Castle Kernsberg, for that day it was to lose a duchess and +gain a duke. It was Joan's second wedding-day--the day of her first +marriage. + +Never had the little hill town seen so brave a gathering since the +northern princes laid Henry the Lion in his grave. In the great vault +where he slept there was a new tomb, a plain marble slab with the +inscription-- + + "THERESA, WIFE OF HENRY, + DUKE OF KERNSBERG AND HOHENSTEIN." + +And underneath, and in Latin, the words-- + + "AFTER THE TEMPEST, PEACE!" + +For strangely enough, by the wonder of Providence or some freak of the +exploding powder, they had found Theresa fallen where she had stood, +blackened indeed but scarce marred in face or figure. So from that +burnt-out hell they had brought her here that at the last she might rest +near the man whom her soul loved. + +And as they moved away and left her, little Johannes Rode, the scholar, +murmured the words, "_Post tempestatem, tranquillitas!_" + +Prince Conrad heard him, and he it was who had them engraven on her +tomb. + +But on this morning of gladness only Joan thought of the dead woman. + +"To-day I will do the thing she wished," the Duchess thought, as she +looked from the window towards her father's tomb. "She would take +nothing for herself, yet shall her son sit in my place and rule where +his father ruled. I am glad!" + +Here she blushed. + +"Yet, why should I vaunt? It is no sacrifice, for I shall be--what I +would rather a thousand times be. Small thanks, then, that I give up +freely what is worth nothing to me now!" + +And with the arm that had wielded a sword so often and so valiantly, +Joan the bride went on arraying her hair and making her beautiful for +the eyes of her lord. + +"My lord!" she said, and again with a different accent. "_My_ lord!" + +And when these her living eyes met those others in the Venice mirror, +lo! either pair was smiling a new smile. + + * * * * * + +Meantime, beneath in her chamber, the Princess Margaret was making her +husband's life a burden to him, or rather, first quarrelling with him +and the next moment throwing her arms about his neck in a passion of +remorse. For that is the wont of dainty Princess Margarets who are sick +and know not yet what aileth them. + +"Maurice," she was saying, "is it not enough to make me throw me over +the battlements that they should all forsake me, on this day of all +others, when you are to be made a Duke in the presence of the Pope's +Legate and the Emperor's _Alter_--what is it?--_Alter ego?_ What a silly +word! And you might have told it to me prettily and without laughing at +me. Yes, you did, and you also are in league against me. And I will not +go to the wedding; no, not if Joan were to beg of me on my knees! I will +not have any of these minxes in to do my hair. Nay, do not you touch it. +I am nobody, it seems, and Joan everything. Joan--Joan! It is Joan this +and Joan that! Tush, I am sick of your Joans. + +"She gives up the duchy to us--well, that is no great gift. She is +getting Courtland for it, and my brother. Even he will not love me any +more. Conrad is like the rest. He eats, drinks, sleeps, wakes, talks +Joan. He is silent, and thinks Joan. So, I believe, do you. You are only +sorry that she did not love you best! + +"Well, if you _are_ her brother, I do not care. Who was speaking about +marrying her? And, at any rate, you did not know she was your sister. +You might very well have loved her. And I believe you did. You do not +love me, at all events. _That_ I do know! + +"No, I will not 'hush,' nor will I come upon your knee and be petted. I +am not a baby! '_What is the matter betwixt me and the maidens?_' If you +had let me explain I would have told you long ago. But I never get +speaking a word. I am not crying, and I shall cry if I choose. Oh yes, I +will tell you, Duke Maurice, if you care to hear, why I am angry with +the maids. Well, then, first it was that Anna Pappenheim. She tugged my +hair out by the roots in handfuls, and when I scolded her I saw there +were tears in her eyes. I asked her why, and for long she would not tell +me. Then all at once she acknowledged that she had promised to marry +that great overgrown chimney-pot, Captain Boris, and must hie her to +Plassenburg, if I pleased. I did not please, and when I said that surely +Marthe was not so foolish thus to throw herself away, the wretched +Marthe came bawling and wringing hands, and owned that she was in like +case with Jorian. + +"So I sent them out very quickly, being justly angry that they should +thus desert me. And I called for Thora of Bornholm, and began easing my +mind concerning their ingratitude, when the Swede said calmly, 'I fear +me, madam, I am not able to find any fault with Anna and Martha. For I +am even as they, or worse. I have been married for over six months.' + +"'And to whom?' I cried; 'tell me, and he shall hang as surely as I am a +Princess of Courtland.' For I was somewhat disturbed. + +"'To-day your Highness is Duchess of Kernsberg,' said the minx, as +calmly as if at sacrament. 'My husband's name is Johannes Rode!' + +"And when I have told you, instead of being sorry for me, you do nothing +but laugh. I will indeed fling me over the window!" + +And the fiery little Princess ran to the window and pretended to cast +herself headlong. But her husband did not move. He stood leaning against +the mantelshelf and smiling at her quietly and lovingly. + +Hearing no rush of anxious feet, and finding no restraining arm cast +about her, Margaret turned, and with fresh fire in her gesture stamped +her foot at Maurice. + +"That just proves it! Little do you care whether or no I kill myself. +You wish I would, so that you might marry somebody else. You dare not +deny it!" + +Maurice knew better than to deny it, nor did he move till the Princess +cast herself down on the coverlet and sobbed her heart out, with her +face on the pillow and her hair spraying in linked tendrils about her +white neck and shoulders. Then he went gently to her and laid his hand +on her head, regardless of the petulant shrug of her shoulders as he +touched her. He gathered her up and sat down with her in his arms. + +"Little one," he said, "I want you to be good. This is a great and a +glad day. To-day my sister finds the happiness that you and I have +found. To-day I am to sit in my father's seat and to have henceforth my +own name among men. You must help me. Will you, little one? For this +once let me be your tire-woman. I have often done my own tiring when, in +old days, I dared death in women's garments for your sweet sake. +Dearest, do not hurt my heart any more, but help me." + +His wife smiled suddenly through her tears, and cast her arms about his +neck. + +"Oh, I am bad--bad--bad," she cried vehemently. "It were no wonder if +you did not love me. But do keep loving me. I should die else. I will be +better--I will--I will! I do not know why I should be so bad. Sometimes +I think I cannot help it." + +But Maurice kissed her and smiled as if he knew. + +"We will live like plain and honest country folk, you and I," he said. +"Let Anna and Martha follow their war-captains. Thora at least will +remain with us, and we will make Johannes Rode our almoner and court +poet. Now smile at me, little one! Ah, that is better." + +In Margaret's April eyes the sun shone out again, and she clung lovingly +to her husband a long moment before she would let him go. + +Then she thrust him a little away from her, that she might see his face, +as she asked the question of all loving and tempestuous Princess +Margarets, "Are you sure you love me just the same, even when I am +naughty?" + +Maurice was sure. + +And taking his face between her hands in a fierce little clutch, she +asked a further assurance. "Are you quite, quite sure?" she said. + +And Maurice was quite, quite sure. + + * * * * * + +Not in a vast and solemn cathedral was Joan married, but in the old +church of Kernsberg, which had so often raised the protest of the Church +against the exactions of her ancestors. The bridal escort was of her own +tried soldiery, now to be hers no more, and all of them a little sad for +that. Hugo and Helene of Plassenburg had come--Hugo because he was the +representative of the Emperor, and Helene because she was a sweet and +loving woman who delighted to rejoice in another's joy. + +With these also arrived, and with these was to depart, the dark-faced +stern young cardinal of San Pietro in Vincoli. He must have good escort, +he said, for he carried many precious relics and tokens of the affection +of the faithful for the Church's Head. The simple priesthood of +Kernsberg shrank from his fiery glances, and were glad when he was gone. +But, save at the hour of bridal itself, he spent all his time with the +treasurer of the Princedom of Courtland. + +When at last they came down the aisle together, and the sweet-voiced +choristers sang, and the white-robed maidens scattered flowers for their +feet to walk upon, the bride found opportunity to whisper to her +husband, "I fear me I shall never be Joan of the Sword Hand any more!" + +He smiled back at her as they came out upon the tears and laughter and +acclaim of the many-coloured throng that filled the little square. + +"Be never afraid, beloved," he said, and his eyes were very glad and +proud, "only be Joan to me, and I will be your Sword Hand!" + + +THE END + + + + + The Gresham Press, + UNWIN BROTHERS, + WOKING AND LONDON. + + + + +Novels by Guy Boothby. + +_SPECIAL & ORIGINAL DESIGNS._ + +Each volume attractively illustrated by Stanley L. 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Whyte-Melville's Novels. + +COMPLETE IN ABOUT 25 VOLUMES. + +_Large Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, 3s. 6d. each._ + + +Each volume is well printed from type specially cast, on best antique +paper, illustrated by front-rank artists, and handsomely bound. + + 1 =KATERFELTO.= Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH + 2 =CERISE.= Illustrated by G.P. JACOMB-HOOD + 3 =SARCHEDON.= Illustrated by S.E. WALLER + 4 =SONGS AND VERSES= and =THE TRUE CROSS=. + Illustrated by S.E. WALLER + 5 =MARKET HARBOROUGH=, and =INSIDE THE BAR=. + Illustrated by JOHN CHARLTON + 6 =BLACK BUT COMELY.= Illustrated by S.E. WALLER + 7 =ROY'S WIFE.= Illustrated by G.P. Jacomb-Hood + 8 =ROSINE=, and =SISTER LOUISE=. + Illustrated by G.P. JACOMB-HOOD + 9 =KATE COVENTRY.= Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH + 10 =THE GLADIATORS.= Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON + 11 =RIDING RECOLLECTIONS.= Illustrated by JOHN CHARLTON + 12 =THE BROOKES OF BRIDLEMERE.= Illustrated by S.E. WALLER + 13 =SATANELLA.= Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH + 14 =HOLMBY HOUSE.= Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH + 15 =THE WHITE ROSE.= Illustrated by S.E. WALLER + 16 =TILBURY NOGO.= Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD + 17 =UNCLE JOHN.= Illustrated by S.E. WALLER + + + + +Novels by Joseph Hocking. + + _CROWN 8vo, CLOTH GILT, 3s. 6d. EACH._ + (EACH VOLUME UNIFORM.) + +Though Mr. JOSEPH HOCKING'S novels have been (by the _Spectator_) +compared to Mr. NG-GOULD'S and (by the _Star_) to Mr. THOMAS +HARDY'S--next to whom it placed him as a writer of country life--and by +other journals to Mr. HALL CAINE'S and Mr. ROBERT BUCHANAN'S, they are, +one and all, stamped with striking and original individuality. Bold in +conception, pure in tone, strenuously high and earnest in purpose, +daring in thought, picturesque and life-like in description, worked out +with singular power and in nervous and vigorous language, it is not to +be wondered at that Mr. HOCKING'S novels are eagerly awaited by a large +and ever increasing public. + + =THE PURPLE ROBE.= + Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS. + + =WEAPONS OF MYSTERY.= + With Frontispiece and Vignette. + + =FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN.= + With Frontispiece and Vignette by J. BARNARD DAVIS. + + =ALL MEN ARE LIARS.= + With Frontispiece and Vignette by GORDON BROWNE. + + =ISHMAEL PENGELLY: An Outcast.= + With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S. STACEY. + + =THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX.= + With Frontispiece and Vignette by GEO. HUTCHINSON. + + =JABEZ EASTERBROOK.= + With Frontispiece and Vignette by STANLEY L. WOOD. + + =ZILLAH.= With Frontispiece by POWELL CHASE. + + =THE MONK OF MAR-SABA.= + With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S. STACEY. + + + + +=Recent Novels.= + + =LADY BARBARITY.= By J. C. SNAITH, Author of "Mistress Dorothy + Marvin," "Fierceheart, the Soldier," &c. Illustrated by W. + D. ALMOND. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s. + + "'Lady Barbarity' would cheer a pessimist in a November fog; it + is so gay, so good humoured, so full of the influence of youth + and beauty, that he must be a dull dog who finds no enjoyment in + the reading of it."--_Black and White._ + + =WILLOW THE KING.= By the same Author. Illustrated by LUCIEN + DAVIS, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s. + + "The best cricket novel I have ever read. The heroine is drawn + with amazing vigour and vividness. Her wit, her volleying + repartee, her humour, are almost incredibly brilliant."--_The + Star._ + + =THE SANCTUARY CLUB.= By Mrs. L. T. MEADE, Author of "The + Medicine Lady," &c., &c. Illustrated by SIDNEY PAGET. Crown + 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s. + + In the "Sanctuary Club" the author has excelled her own + brilliant record, and has written a novel as full of incident + and breathless adventure as has been published for many a day. + + =THE GOLD STAR LINE.= By the same Author. Illustrated by ADOLF + THIEDE. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s. + + "Tales of mystery never fail to attract.... There is plenty of + variety and excitement to be got out of this volume."--_Bristol + Times._ + + =A DAUGHTER OF THE MARIONIS.= By E. P. OPPENHEIM, Author of + "False Evidence," "The World's Great Snare," &c. Illustrated + by ADOLF THIEDE. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. + + "Mr. Oppenheim has boundless imagination. There is good + thrilling mystery in his books, and not a few excellent + characters."--_British Weekly._ + + =THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM=. By E. P. OPPENHEIM, Author of "A + Daughter of the Marionis." Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. + Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. + + "Humdrum is the very last word you could apply to (a tale by) E. + P. Oppenheim."--_Illustrated London News._ + + =A MAN OF HIS AGE.= By HAMILTON DRUMMOND, Author of "For the + Religion." Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. Crown 8vo, + cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. + + This is a tale of the Hugenôts, and is told with such dramatic + power and such intense personal interest that the reader + identifies himself or herself with the hero or heroine + throughout. + + =A FAIR BRIGAND.= By GEORGE HORTON, Author of "Constantine," "In + Unknown Seas," &c., &c. Illustrated by EDMUND J. SULLIVAN. + Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. + + The scene of this tale is laid in modern Greece, and is a funny, + frolicsome story that will amuse every one, and likely take a + lasting place in the reader's mind. + + =AGATHA WEBB.= By A. K. GREEN, Author of "The Leavenworth Case," + "X. Y. Z.," &c. Illustrated by ADOLF THIEDE. Crown 8vo, + cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. + + Readers of "The Leavenworth Case" need not be told that A. K. + Green can write a detective story with consummate ability, and + the present story is in many ways her masterpiece. + + =THE EYE OF FATE.= By ALICE MAUD MEADOWS, Author of "Out from + the Night." Illustrated by T. W. HENRY. Crown 8vo, cloth + gilt, 3s. 6d. + + "A weird and exciting story, very well written, the characters + faithfully described, the interest vividly sustained from + beginning to end."--_The Queen._ + + =PAUL: A Herald of the Cross.= By FLORENCE M. KINGSLEY, Author + of "Titus," "Stephen," &c. Illustrated by HENRY AUSTIN. + Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. + + "A book not to be missed. In a word ... a triumph. It is rare to + meet a book so contenting in all its features."--_Literary + World._ + + + + +You cannot beat the Best. + + THE + WINDSOR + MAGAZINE + + .. Always contains the .. + + BEST WORK by the + + .. BEST AUTHORS .. + + and BEST ARTISTS. + + It has eclipsed every other Sixpenny Magazine, and has + achieved the most Brilliant Success of the day. + + * * * * * + + =Holds the Record= + for giving the Best Serial Story of the Year. + + =Holds the Record= + for giving Splendid Exclusive Articles by recognised specialists. + + =Holds the Record= + for being the Most Varied, the Most Entertaining, and the Most + Instructive of Magazines. + + * * * * * + + The "Times" calls it "Wonderful." + + +LONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LTD. + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: Obvious errors in spelling and punctuation have +been corrected. Variant spellings have been left in place. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Joan of the Sword Hand, by +S(amuel) R(utherford) Crockett + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41803 *** |