The White Plumes of Navarre: A Romance of the Wars of Religion

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER X.

  THE GOLDEN DUKE

  The river flowed at their right hand, the water blue, the pebbly bankschased silver, green walls of wood framing the picture, and noblechateaux looking out here and there.

  Almost audibly Claire's heart beat. She had seen the court of the Kingof Navarre, what time Margaret of Valois made Nerac gay for a wholeyear, as ever was Paris under the first Francis. But even there, betwixtthe old grey chateau on the hill and the new summer pavilion in thevalley, something of the warriors' camp had ever lingered about thatCapua of the "Bearnais."

  Besides, Claire had been young then, and many things she had notunderstood--which was perhaps the better for her and the happier. Butnow, she doubted not. The child was a woman, and all would now be madeclear. Not Eve, looking up at the Eden apple-tree in the reserved cornerof the orchard, had more of certainty that all happiness lay in thetasting of the first of these golden pippins.

  Presently they began to mingle with the crowd, and from under his shaggybrows the Professor watched the gay young courtiers with unconcealeddispleasure.

  As he listened to the quick give-and-take of wit from this galliard tothe other, he murmured to himself the words of the Wise Man, even thewords of Jesus the son of Sirach, "There is a certain subtlety that isfine, but it is unrighteous."

  And to his pupil he said, "Answer not these fools according to theirfolly. Your sword's point will make a better answer! Even I myself----"

  But here he checked himself, as if he would have said something thatbecame not a grave Professor of the Sorbonne in the habit of his order.

  And even while saying so--lo! in a moment, the swords were out andflickering, his own first of all, the same little, thin, snakysword-cane made in Toledo, supple as a reed, which the Abbe John and GuyLaunay had returned to appropriate on the Day of the Barricades. Johnd'Albret stood on his defence with an Italian blade, having a small cupto protect the over-guard, which was just coming into fashion among theyoung bloods. While from the rear Jean-aux-Choux spurred his Flandersmare into the riot, waving over his head a huge two-handed sword ofItalian pattern, like those with which the Swiss had harvested thearmoured knights like ripe corn at Granson and at Morat.

  And the reason of the pother was this.

  A couple of gentlemen-cavaliers had approached from behind, anddescending as suddenly as hawks into a courtyard full of dovesfluttering and pacing each in his innocence, had deftly cut out thelittle jennet of Arab blood on which Claire was riding.

  Her dark student's over-mantle, descending low as her spurs, had notconcealed from these faithful stewards of their master that the youngerand more delicately featured of the two clerks was no other than apretty maiden.

  "Our great Duke would speak with you, Mistress," was all theexplanation they deigned to give. And in such troubled times even somuch was frequently omitted.

  But the hawks soon found out their mistake. Though the Professor'ssword-cane might have been safely disregarded by the breast-platewearers, it was otherwise with the huge bell-mouthed pistol which hecarried in his left hand. It was also far otherwise with the snaky bladeof the Abbe John, the daintiest sworder of all the _Pre des Clercs_. Theman at the left of Claire's bridle-rein felt something sting him just atthe coming together of the head-piece and shoulder-plates. Even lesscould the two captors afford to disregard Claire's last defender, when,all unexpectedly, with a shrill war-cry of "Stirling Brig an' doon wi'the Papishers," Jean-aux-Choux whirled two-handed into the fray.

  The first blow fell on the right-hand man. Fair on the boss of hisshoulder-plate, heavy as a mace, fell that huge six foot of blade.

  The armour was of proof, or that head would have been shorn from hisbody. As it was, the man fell senseless from his horse. Promptly hiscompanion let go the rein of Claire's pony, crying, "Help there, my LordDuke!" And so, wheeling his horse about, put speed to it, and rode inthe direction of a group of gay knights and gentlemen who, as it nowappeared, had been watching the fray with some amusement without caringto meddle with it.

  Then from the midst of the little crowd there came one forth, the finestand properest man Claire had ever seen. He was tall and magnificentlyarrayed. The cloak over his light chain-armour was of dark crimson andgold, and the six enamelled lilies on his helmet marked him as next inrank to the princes of the blood.

  The cavaliers about him drew their swords, and after saluting, asked ifit were the will of their Lord Duke that they should punish thesecaitiffs who had so battered Goulard and Moulinet.

  But "My Lord" put them aside with an impatient gesture of his glove.

  "It would have served Goulard and Moulinet right if they had gottentwice as much!" he said. "They meddled in what did not concern them."

  All the same, as he rode forward, his eyebrows, which were thick andbarred across, twitched threateningly. He threw off his crimson cloakwith an impatient gesture, and suddenly shone forth in a dazzling arrayof steel breast-plate and chain armour, all worked and damascened withgold.

  "Epernon--Epernon--for my life, Epernon!" muttered the Abbe John underhis breath to the Professor of Eloquence; "we could not have fallen onworse!"

  The King's reigning favourite and boldest soldier rode straight up tothem, with the careless ease which became the handsomest man in thekingdoms of France and Navarre.

  "What have we here?" he demanded. "A pretty girl, two holy men, and ascarecrow! You are Genevists--Calvin's folk--Huguenots! This will notdo; a fair maid's place is in a king's court. I will escort her thither.My wife will have great pleasure in her society, and will make her oneof her own or of the Queen's maids-of-honour. From what I hear, herelder Majesty hath great need of such!"

  "Not more than His Majesty has need of men of honour about him," criedthe Abbe John fiercely--"aye, and has had all his life!"

  "Hola, young cock-sparrow, clad in the habit of the hoodie-crow!" saidD'Epernon, turning upon him, "from what stable-heap do you come that youchirp so loud?"

  "From that same heap on which you serve as stable-boy, my Lord Duke!"said the Abbe John.

  The Duke's brow darkened. He put his hand quickly to his gold-hiltedrapier.

  "Ah, pray do," sneered the Abbe John; "follow your inclination. Let thebright steel out. Get a man to hold our horses, and--have at you, mygood Gascon!"

  By this time the Duke d'Epernon's gentlemen were spurring angrilyforward, but he halted them with a wave of his hand, without turninground in his saddle or taking his eyes off John's face.

  "What is your name?" he demanded, his brows twitching so quickly thatthe eye could scarce follow their movements.

  "I am John d'Albret, nephew of the Cardinal Bourbon and----"

  "Cousin of the Bearnais?" sneered the Duke, his eye glittering.

  "Student at the Sorbonne!" said the Abbe John firmly. "All the same, ifclerk I am, I am no poor clerk, and so you will find me--if, waiving myroyal blood, I consent to put my steel to yours upon the sward. Come,down with you--and fall on!"

  Now the Duke d'Epernon was anything rather than a coward. He made amotion as if to dismount, and there is little doubt but that hisintention was to match his long-trained skill and success as a swordsmanagainst the Abbe John's mastery of the latest science of sword-playlearned in the Paris _salles_.

  But suddenly D'Epernon checked himself. Then he laughed.

  "No," he said; "after all, why should we fight? We may need each otherone day, and there is no honour in killing a bantam, even if he hath aleft-hand strain of kingly blood in him!"

  "Left-hand!" cried the Abbe John: "you lie in your throat. My blood isinfinitely more dexter than your own, and I make a better use of it! Iam no mignon, at least."

  Now this was a bitter taunt indeed, and even the tanned face of theKing's warlike favourite flushed.

  "As to mignons," he said, "you look much more like one yourself, youngcockerel. I have overly many scars on my cheeks for the trade. And thisis, I presume, your sister--to judge by the resemblance?" The Duketurned to Claire, who
had been looking at him with a certain involuntaryadmiration. "What, no? Your niece, you say, my good Sorbonnist? I am notsure but that, as a strict Catholic, I must object. The age is scarcecanonical!"

  "I am no priest," said Doctor Anatole, roughly, for this touched him onthe raw. "I am only the Professor of Eloquence attached to the facultyof philosophy. And I have the honour to inform you that I travel with myniece, to put her under the care of my mother at her house near toCollioure, in Roussillon."

  "What!" cried the Duke, "now here is another of the suspicions whichawake in the mind of the most guileless of men. Here we have a Bourbon,next-of-kin to the Cardinal himself, together with a Professor of theSorbonne (that hotbed of sedition), travelling towards the dominions ofthe Demon of the South--of Philip of Spain! As a good subject, how am Ito know that you are not on your way to stir up another rebellionagainst the King my master?"

  It was then that Claire spoke for the first time.

  "Sir," she said quietly, but looking full at the Duke with hereyes--dark green eyes the colour of jade, with little golden flashletsfloating about in them, "I vouch for my friends. They are loyal andpeaceful; I who speak am the only Huguenot. You can take and burn me ifyou like!"

  The great Duke d'Epernon stood a moment aghast, as if the hunted harehad turned upon him in defiance. Then he slid off his helmet, andsaluted, bareheaded.

  "_Ma belle damoselle_," he said, "you may be the niece of a Doctor ofthe Sorbonne and at the same time a Huguenot. These are good reasonsenough for carrying you to the castle of His Majesty. But becomforted--we are not as Philip of Spain, our enemy. We do not burnpretty brave maids such as you!"

  It was then that Jean-aux-Choux forced himself forward on his big,blundering Spanish mare, driving between a couple of cavaliers, andsending them right and left like ninepins.

  "Great Duke," he said, "you would do well to let us go on our way. Youtalk much of His Majesty--I ask you which. You have served the'Bearnais'--you will serve him again. Even now you have cast an anchorto windward. It sticks firmly in the camp of the Bearnais, not far fromthat King's tent."

  Duke d'Epernon turned on Jean-aux-Choux his fierce, dark eyes.

  "It seems to me that I have seen you before, my churl of the carrotylocks," he said; "were you not at the King's last fooling in theLouvre?"

  "Aye," said Jean, "that I was, and in a certain window-seat behind acertain curtain I gave your Dukeship a certain letter----"

  "It is enough," muttered the Duke, waving his hand hastily. "I am on myway to Angouleme, which is my government. Come all of you with me toBlois, and there abide quietly in a house till I return to salute theKing. The Estates meet in the late autumn, and if things go as it seemslikely after this Day of the Barricades, we may need your blood royal,my excellent Clerk d'Albret--your best wisdom, my good and eloquentProfessor--your rarest quips, my merry scarecrow--and, as for you,little lady, my newly-wed wife Marguerite will not be sorry to have acompanion so frank and charming among the fading blossoms and over-ripefruit of the court of the Queen-mother!"

  "My lord," said the Professor, "I fear that I have not time to wait uponthe King. I must go to visit my mother, and carry this maid with me!"

  The Duke smiled.

  "I am not demanding your learned preferences, most eloquent Professor,"he said; "I am taking you into safe keeping in the name of the King.After all, I am not an ignorant man, and I know well that it was acertain Doctor Anatole Long who, in the full concourse of the Sorbonne,voted alone for the rights of the Valois. Give the King, therefore, achance of voicing his thanks. Also, since the King is at Chartres and Imust speed to Angouleme, I will leave you at Blois in good andcomfortable keeping with the young damsel, your niece, taking with meonly this young man, that he may see some good Leaguer fighting. He hathbeen, I dare say, on the Barricades himself. It is permitted to his ageto be foolish. But he has never yet seen a full-grown, raw-hide,unwashen Catholic Leaguer. Let him come to Angouleme with me, and I willwarrant to improve his sword-play for him! Close up, gentlemen of myguard! To Blois! Ride, accommodating your pace to mine, as I shall domine to that of the palfrey of the new lady companion of Marguerite ofFoix, whom I have the honour to love!"

  He lifted his gloved hand, and from the fingers blew a kiss in thedirection of the north, daintily as a girl upon a high terrace to alover over the sea.

  And so by the river-side, in the golden light of the afternoon, theyrode forward to Blois.

  In the rear Jean-aux-Choux continued to mutter to himself, trudgingheavily along on his Flanders mare, laden with cloaks and provend, "'Tisall very well--very well--but what does his golden dukeship propose todo with me? I will not leave my little mistress alone in a strange city,and with a man who, though ten times a professor at the Sorbonne, is nomore kin to her than I am to this fat-fetlocked Flemish brute."

  He pondered a little, dropping gradually behind. But as soon as they hadpassed the gates of the city, he guided his beast into the first littlealley, letting the cavalcade go on, amid much craning of necks from thewindows, towards the royal pavilion where D'Epernon was to lodge.

  "I will seek out Anthony Arpajon, that good man of the Faith," he said."He has a stable down by the water-side, and being a lover of thelearned, he will give me bite and sup for teaching him some scraps ofGreek wherewith to puzzle the wandering Lutheran pastors. For aCalvinist stark is Anthony, and only wants a head-piece like mine to bea clever man. But he hath an arm and a purse. And for the rest, I willload him up with the best of Greek, and also teach him to read the_Institutions of John Calvin_, my first and greatest master!"

  So through the narrow streets of Blois he made his great mare pushherself lumberingly, crying out whenever there was a crowd or a busystreet to cross, "Hoo! hoo! hoo! Make way for the King's fool--forJean-aux-Choux--for the fool--the King's fool!"