Two Penniless Princesses

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER 7. THE MINSTREL KING'S COURT

  'Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.'--L'Allegro.

  The whole of the two Courts had to be received in the capital ofLorraine in full state under the beautiful old gateway, but as mediaevalpageants are wearisome matters this may be passed over, though it wasexceptionally beautiful and poetic, owing to the influence ofKing Rene's taste, and it perfectly dazzled the two Scottishprincesses--though, to tell the truth, they were somewhat disappointedin the personal appearance of their entertainers, who did not come up totheir notion of royalty. Their father had been a stately and magnificentman; their mother a beautiful woman. Henry VI. was a tall, well-made,handsome man, with Plantagenet fairness and regularity of feature and asweetness all his own; but both these kings were, like all the house ofValois, small men with insignificant features and sallow complexions.Rene, indeed, had a distinction about him that compensated for want ofbeauty, and Charles had a good-natured, easy, indolent look and gracioussmile that gave him an undefinable air of royalty. Rene's daughterswere both very lovely, but their beauty came from the other side of thehouse, with the blood of Charles the Great, through their mother, theheiress of Lorraine.

  There was a curious contrast between the brothers-in-law, Charles, whendismounting at the castle gate, not disguising his weariness and reliefthat it was over, and Rene, eager and anxious, desirous of making allhis bewildering multitude of guests as happy as possible, while theDauphin Louis stood by, half interested and amused, half mocking. Hewas really fond of his uncle, though in a contemptuous superior sortof manner, despising his religious and honourable scruples as meresimplicity of mind.

  Rene of Anjou has been hardly dealt with, as is often the case withprinces upright, religious, and chivalrous beyond the average of theirtime, yet without the strength or the genius to enforce their rights andopinions, and therefore thrust aside. After his early unsuccessful warshis lands of Provence and Lorraine were islands of peace, prosperity,and progress, and withal he was an extremely able artist, musician,and poet, striving to revive the old troubadour spirit of Provence, andeverywhere casting about him an atmosphere of refinement and kindliness.

  The hall of his hotel at Nanci was a beautiful place, with all thegorgeous grace of the fifteenth century, and here his guests assembledfor supper soon after their arrival, all being placed as much aspossible according to rank. Eleanor found herself between a deaf oldChurch dignitary and Duke Sigismund, on whose other side was Yolande,the Infanta, as the Provencals called the daughter of Rene; while Jeanfound the Dauphin on one side of her and a great French Duke onthe other. Louis amused himself with compliments and questions thatsometimes nettled her, sometimes pleased her, giving her a sense that hemight admire her beauty, but was playing on her simplicity, and tryingto make her betray the destitution of her home and her purpose incoming.

  Eleanor, on the other hand, found her cavalier more simple than herself.In fact, he properly belonged to the Infanta, but she paid no attentionto him, nor did the Bishop try to speak to the Scottish princess.Sigismund's French was very lame, and Eleanor's not perfect, but she hada natural turn for languages, and had, in the convent, picked up someGerman, which in those days had many likenesses to her own broad Scotch.They made one another out, between the two languages, with signs,smiles, and laughter, and whereas the subtilties along the tablerepresented the entire story of Sir Gawain and his Loathly Lady, shecontrived to explain the story to him, greatly to his edification; andthey went on to King Arthur, and he did his best to narrate the Germanreading of Sir Parzival. The difficulties engrossed them till therose-water was brought in silver bowls to wash their fingers, on whichSigismund, after observing and imitating the two ladies, remarked thatthey had no such Schwarmerci in Deutschland, and Yolande looked as ifshe could well believe it, while Elleen, though ignorant of the meaningof his word, laughed and said they had as little in Scotland.

  There was still an hour of daylight to come, and moon-rise would notbe far off, so that the hosts proposed to adjourn to the garden, wherefresh music awaited them.

  King Rene was an ardent gardener. His love of flowers was viewed as oneof his weaknesses, only worthy of an old Abbot, but he went his own way,and the space within the walls of his castle at Nanci was lovely withbright spring flowers, blossoming trees, and green walks, where, as LadySuffolk said, her grandfather could have mused all day and all nightlong, to the sound of the nightingales.

  But what the sisters valued it for was that they could ramble awaytogether to a stone bench under the wall, and there sit at perfect easetogether and pour out their hearts to one another. Margaret, indeed,touched them as they leant against her as if to convince herself oftheir reality, and yet she said that they knew not what they did whenthey put the sea between themselves and Scotland, nor how sick the heartcould be for its bonnie hills.

  'O gin I could see a mountain top again, I feel as though I could layme down and die content. What garred ye come daundering to these wearyflats of France?'

  'Ah, sister, Scotland is not what you mind it when our blessed fatherlived!'

  And they told her how their lives had been spent in being hurried fromone prison-castle to another.

  'Prison-castles be not wanting here,' replied Margaret with asigh. Then, as Elleen held up a hand in delight at the thrill of aneighbouring nightingale, she cried, 'What is yon sing-song, seesaw,gurgling bird to our own bonnie laverock, soaring away to the sky,without making such a wark of tuning his pipes, and never thinkinghimself too dainty and tender for a wholesome frost or two! So Jamiesent you off to seek for husbands here, did he? Couldna ye put up with aleal Scot, like Glenuskie there?'

  'There were too many of them,' said Jean.

  'And not ower leal either,' said Eleanor.

  'Lealty is a rare plant ony gate,' sighed Margaret, 'and where saelittle is recked of our Scots royalty, mayhap ye'll find that tocherlesslasses be less sought for than at hame. Didna I see thee, Elleen,clavering with that muckle Archduke that nane can talk with?'

  'Ay,' said Eleanor.

  'He is come here a-courting Madame Yolande, with his father's goodwill,for Alsace and Tyrol be his, mountains that might be in our ainHielands, they tell me.'

  'Methougnt,' said Eleanor, 'she scunnered from him, as Jeanie doesat--shall I say whom?'

  'And reason gude,' said Margaret. 'She has a joe of her ain, Count Ferryde Vaudemont, that is the heir male of the line, and a gallant laddie.At the great joust the morn methinks ye'll see what may well be sung byminstrels, and can scarce fail to touch the heart of a true troubadour,as is my good uncle Rene.'

  Margaret became quite animated, and her sisters pressed her to tell themif she knew of any secret; but she playfully shook her head, and saidthat if she did know she would not mar the romaunt that was to be playedout before them.

  'Nay,' said Eleanor, 'we have a romaunt of our own. May I tell, Jeanie?'

  'Who recks?' replied Jean, with a little toss of her head.

  Thus Eleanor proceeded to tell her sister what--since the adventure ofthe goose--had gone far beyond a guess as to the tall, red-haired youngman-at-arms who had ridden close behind David Drummond.

  'Douglas, Douglas, tender and true,' exclaimed Margaret. 'He loves youso as to follow for weeks, nay, months, in this guise without word orlook. Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie, happy lassie, did ye but ken it! Nay, put noton that scornful mou'. It sorts you not weel, my bairn. He is of degreebefitting a Stewart, and even were he not, oh, sisters, sisters, betterto wed with a leal loving soul in ane high peel-tower than to bear abroken heart to a throne!' and she fell into a convulsive fit of chokedand bitter weeping, which terrified her sisters.

  At the sound of a lute, apparently being brought nearer, accompaniedwith footsteps, she hastily recovered herself, and rose to her feet,while a smile
broke out over her face, as the musician, a slender,graceful figure, appeared on the path in the moonlight.

  'Answering the nightingales, Maitre Alain?' she said.

  'This is the court of nightingales, Madame,' he replied. 'It ispresumption to endeavour to rival them even though the heart be tornlike that of Philomel.' Wherewith he touched his lute, and began to singfrom his famous idyll--

  'Ainsi mon coeur se guermentait De la grande douleur qu'il portait, En ce plaisant lieu solitaire Ou un doux ventelet venait, Si seri qu'on le sentait Lorsque la violette mieux flaire.'

  Again, as Eleanor heard the sweet strains, and saw the long shadows ofthe trees and the light of the rising moon, it was like the attainmentof her dreamland; and Margaret proceeded to make known to her sistersMaitre Alain Chartier, the prince of song, adding, 'Thou, too, wast asongster, sister Elleen, even while almost a babe. Dost sing as of old?'

  'I have brought my father's harp,' said Eleanor.

  'Ah! I must hear it,' she cried with effusion. 'The harp. It will be hisvoice again.'

  'Madame! Madame! Madame la Dauphine. Out here! Ever reckless of dew--ay,and of waur than dew.'

  These last words were added in Scotch, as a tall, dark-cloaked figureappeared on the scene from between the trees. Margaret laughed, with alittle annoyance in her tone, as she said, 'Ever my shadow, good Madame,ever wearying yourself with care. Here, sisters, here is my trusty andwell-beloved Dame de Ste. Petronelle, who takes such care of me that shedogs my footsteps like a messan.'

  'And reason gude,' replied the lady. 'Here is the muckle hall allalight, and this King Rene, as they call him, twanging on his lute, andbut that the Seigneur Dauphin is talking to the English Lord on somequestion of Gascon boundaries, we should have him speiring for you. Isaw the eye of him roaming after you, as it was.'

  'His eye seeking me!' cried Margaret, springing up from her languidattitude with a tone like exultation in her voice, such as evoked a lowsigh from the old dame, as all began to move towards the castle. Shewas the widow of a Scotch adventurer who had won lands and honours inFrance; and she was now attached to the service of the Dauphiness, notas her chief lady--that post was held by an old French countess--butstill close enough to her to act as her guardian and monitor whenever itwas possible to deal with her.

  The old lady, in great delight at meeting a compatriot, poured out herconfidences to Dame Lilias of Glenuskie. Infinitely grieved and annoyedwas she when, early as were the ordinary hours of the Court of Nanci, itproved that the Dauphiness had called up her sisters an hour before, andtaken them across the chace which surrounded the castle to hear mass ata convent of Benedictine nuns.

  It was perfectly safe, though only a tirewoman and a page followed theDauphiness, and only Annis attended her two sisters, for the groundswere enclosed, and King Rene's domains were far better ruled and morepeaceful than those of the princes who despised him. It was an exquisitespring morning, with grass silvery with dew and enamelled with flowers,birds singing ecstatically on every branch, squirrels here and thereracing up a trunk. Margaret was in joyous spirits, and almost dancedbetween her sisters. Eleanor was amazed at the luxuriant beauty of thescene, and could not admire enough. Jean, though at first a little crossat the early summons, could not but be infected with their delight, andthe three laughed and frolicked together with almost childish glee inthe delight of their content.

  The great, gentle-eyed, long-horned kine were being driven in at theconvent-yard to be milked by the lay-sisters; at another entrance,peasants, beggars, and sick were congregating; the bell from thelace-works spire rang out, and the Dauphiness led the way to thegateway, where, at her knock on the iron-studded door, a lay-sisterlooked through the wicket.

  'Good sister, here are some early pilgrims to the shrine of St.Scolastique,' she began.

  'To the other gate,' said the portress hastily. Margaret's face twinkledwith fun. 'I wad fain take a turn with the beggar crew,' she said toher sisters in Scotch; 'but it might cause too great an outcry if I werekenned. Commend me to the Mere St. Antoine,' she added in French, 'andtell her that the Dauphiness would fain hear mass with her.'

  The portress cast an anxious doubtful glance, but being apparentlyconvinced, cried out for pardon, while hastily unlocking her door, andsending a message to the Abbess.

  As they entered the cloistered quadrangle the nuns in black processionwere on their way to mass, but turned aside to receive their visitors.Margaret knelt for a moment for the blessing and kiss of the Abbess,then greeted the nun whom she had mentioned, but begged for no furtherceremony, and then was led into church.

  It was a brief festival mass, and was not really over before she, witha restlessness of which her sisters began to be conscious, began to riseand make her way out. A nun followed and entreated her to stay and breakher fast, but she would accept nothing save a draught of milk, swallowedhastily, and with signs of impatience as her sisters took their turn.

  She walked quickly, rather as one guilty of an escapade, againsurprising her sisters, who fancied the liberty of a married princessillimitable.

  Jean even ventured to ask her why she went so fast, 'Would the King ofFrance be displeased?'

  'He! Poor gude sire Charles! He heeds not what one does, good or bad;no, not the murdering of his minion before his eyes,' said Margaret,half laughing.

  'Thy husband, would he be angered?' pressed on Jean.

  'My husband? Oh no, it is not in the depth and greatness of is thoughtsto find fault with his poor worm,' said Margaret, a strange look, halfof exultation, half of pain, on her face. 'Ah! Jeanie, woman, none kensin sooth how great and wise my Dauphin is, nor how far he sees beyondall around him, so that he cannot choose but scorn them and make themhis tools. When he has the power, he will do more for this poor realm ofFrance than any king before him.'

  'As our father would have done for Scotland,' said Eleanor.

  'Then he tells thee of his plans?'

  'Me!' said Margaret, with the suffering look returning. 'How should hetalk to me, the muckle uncouthie wife that I am, kenning nought but awheen ballads and romaunts--not even able to give him the heir for whomhe longs,' and she wrung her hands together, 'how can I be aught but apain and grief to him!'

  'Nay, but thou lovest him?' said Jean, over simply.

  'Lassie!' exclaimed Margaret hotly, 'what thinkest thou I am made of?How should a wife not love her man, the wisest, canniest prince inChristendom, too! Love him! I worship him, as the trouveres say, withall my heart, and wad lay down my life if I could win one kind blush ofhis eye; and yet--and yet--such a creature am I that I am ever wittinglyor unwittingly transgressing these weary laws, and garring him think mea fool, or others report me such,' clenching her hands again.

  'Madame de Ste. Petronelle?' asked Jean.

  'She! Oh no! She is a true loyal Lindsay, heart and soul, dour andwearisome; but she would guard me from every foe, and most of all, asshe is ever telling me, from mine ain self, that is my worst enemy. Onlyshe sets about it in such guise that, for very vexation, I am drivenfarther! No, it is the Countess de Craylierre, who is forever spitingme, and striving to put whatever I do in a cruel light, if I dinna walkafter her will--hers, as if she could rule a king's daughter!'

  And Margaret stamped her foot on the ground, while a hot flush arose inher cheeks. Her sisters, young girls as they were, could not understandher moods, either of wild mirth, eager delight in poetry and music,childish wilfulness and petulant temper or deep melancholy, allcoming in turn with feverish alternation and vehemence. As the ladiesapproached the castle they were met by various gentlemen, among whomwas Maitre Alain Chartier, and a bandying of compliments and witticismsbegan in such rapid French that even Eleanor could not follow it; butthere was something in the ring of the Dauphiness's hard laugh thatpained her, she knew not why.

  At the entrance they found the chief of the party returning fromthe cathedral, where they had heard mass, not e
xactly in state, butpublicly.

  'Ha! ha! good daughter,' laughed the King, 'I took thee for a slug abed,but it is by thy errant fashion that thou hast cheated us.'

  'I have been to mass at St Mary's,' returned Margaret, 'with my sisters.I love the early walk across the park.'

  'No wonder,' came from between the thin lips of the Dauphin, as his keenlittle eye fell on Chartier. Margaret drew herself up and vouchsafed notto reply. Jean marvelled, but Eleanor felt with her, that she was tooproud to defend herself from the insult. Madame de Ste. Petronelle,however, stepped forward and began: 'Madame la Dauphine loves notattendance. She made her journey alone with Mesdames ses soeurs with nomale company, till she reached home.'

  But before the first words were well out of the good lady's mouth Louishad turned away, with an air of the most careless indifference, to acourtier in a long gown, longer shoes, and a jewelled girdle, who becameknown to the sisters as Messire Jamet de Tillay. Eleanor felt indignant.Was he too heedless of his wife to listen to the vindication.

  Madame de Ste. Petronelle took the Lady of Glenuskie aside and pouredout her lamentations. That was ever the way, she said, the Dauphinesswould give occasion to slanderers, by her wilful ways, and there werethose who would turn all she said or did against her, poisoning the earof the Dauphin, little as he cared.

  'Is he an ill man to her?' asked Dame Lilias little prepossessed by hislooks.

  'He! Madame, mind you an auld tale of the Eatin wi' no heart in hisbody! I verily believe he and his father both were created like thatgiant. No that the King is sair to live with either, so that he can eatand drink and daff, and be let alone to take his ease. I have seen him;and my gude man and them we kenned have marked him this score of years;and whether his kingdom were lost or won, whether his best friends werefree or bound, dead or alive, he recked as little as though it were agame of chess, so that he can sit in the ingle neuk at Bourges and toywith Madame de Beaute, shameless limmer that she is! and crack his fistswith yon viper, Jamet de Tillay, and the rest of the crew. But he'lllet you alone, and has a kindly word for them that don't cross him--andthere be those that would go through fire and water for him. He is nothat ill! But for his son, he has a sneer and a spite such as never hisfather had. He is never a one to sit still and let things gang theirgate; but he has as little pity or compassion as his father, and if KingCharles will not stir a finger to hinder a gruesome deed, Dauphin Louiswill not spare to do it so that he can gain by it, and I trow verilythat to give pain and sting with that bitter tongue of his is joy tohim.'

  'Then is there no love between him and our princess?'

  'Alack, lady, there is love, but 'tis all on one side of the house. Idoubt me whether Messire le Dauphin hath it in him to love any livingcreature. I longed, when I saw your maidens, that my poor lady had beenas bonnie as her sister Joanna; but mayhap that would not have servedher better. If she were as dull as the Duchess of Brittany--who they saycan scarce find a word to give to a stranger at Nantes--she might evenanger him less than she does with her wit and her books and her verses,sitting up half the night to read and write rondeaux, forsooth!'

  'Her blessed father's own daughter!'

  'That may be; but how doth it suit a wife? It might serve here, whereevery one is mad after poesy, as they call it; but such ways are inno good odour with the French dames, who never put eye to book, pen topaper, nor foot to ground if they can help it; and when she behoves togang off roaming afoot, as she did this morn, there's no garring theill-minded carlines believe that there's no ill purpose behind.'

  'It is scarce wise.'

  'Yet to hear her, 'tis such walking and wearing herself out that keepsthe life in her and alone gives her sleep. My puir bairn, worshippingthe very ground her man sets foot on, and never getting aught but a gibeor a girn from him, and, for the very wilfulness of her sair heart, everputting herself farther from him!'

  Such was the piteous account that Madame de Ste. Petronelle (otherwiseDame Elspeth Johnstone) gave, and which the Lady of Glenuskie soonperceived to be only too true during the days spent at Nanci. To thetwo young sisters the condition of things was less evident. To Margarettheir presence was such sunshine, that they usually saw her in herhighest, most flighty, and imprudent spirits, taking at times absolutedelight in shocking her two duennas; and it was in this temper that, onehot noon day, coming after an evening of song and music, finding AlainChartier asleep on a bench in the garden, she declared that she mustkiss the mouth from which such sweet strains proceeded, and bendingdown, imprinted so light a kiss as not to waken him, then turned round,her whole face rippling with silent laughter at the amusement of Jeanand Margaret of Anjou, Elleen's puzzled gravity, and the horror anddismay of her elder ladies. But Dame Lilias saw what she did not--a lookof triumphant malice on the face of Jamet de Tillay. Or at other timesshe would sit listening, with silent tears in her eyes, to plaintiveScottish airs on Eleanor's harp, which she declared brought back herfather's voice to her, and with it the scent of the heather, and thevery sight of Arthur's Seat or the hills of Perth. Elleen had somesudden qualms of heart lest her sister's blitheness should be coveringwounds within; but she was too young to be often haunted by suchthoughts in the delightful surroundings in which that Easter week wasspent--the companionship of their sister and of the two young Infantasof Anjou, as well as all the charm of King Rene's graceful attention.Eleanor had opened to her fresh stores of beauty, exquisiteilluminations, books of all kinds--legend, history, romance, poetry--allfreely displayed to her by her royal host, who took an elderly man'sdelight in an intelligent girl; nor, perhaps, was the pleasure lessenedby the need of explaining to Archduke Sigismund, in German everimproving, that which he could not understand. There was a delightfulfreedom about the Court--not hard, rugged, always on the defence, likethat of Scotland; nor stiffly ecclesiastical, as had been that of Henryof Windsor; but though there was devotion every morning, there was forthe rest of the day holiday-making according to each one's taste--nothawking, for the 'bon roi Rene' was merciful to the birds in nestingtime, for which he was grumbled and laughed at by the young nobles, andit may be feared by Jean, who wanted to exhibit Skywing's prowess;but there was riding at the ring, and jousting, or long rides in theenvirons, minstrelsy in the gardens, and once a graceful ballet of theKing's own composition; and the evenings, sometimes in-doors, sometimesout-of-doors, were given to song and music. Altogether it was a land ofenchantment to most, whether gaily or poetically inclined.

  Only there were certain murmurs by the rugged Scots and fierce Gasconsamong the guests. George observed to David Drummond that he felt as ifthis was a nest of eider-ducks, all down and fluff. Davie responded thatit was like a pasteboard town in a mystery play, and that he longed tostrike at it with his good broadsword. The English squire who stoodby, in his turn compared it to a castle of flummery and blanc-manger.A French captain of a full company declared that he wished he had theplundering of it; and a fierce-looking mountaineer of the Vosges ofAlsace growled that if the harping old King of Nowhere flouted hismaster, Duke Sigismund, maybe they should have a taste of plunder.

  There was actually to be a tournament on the Monday, the day before thewedding, and a first tournament was a prodigious event in the life of ayoung lady. Jean was in the utmost excitement, and never looked ather own pretty face of roses and lilies in the steel mirror withoutcomparing it with those of the two Infantas in the hope of being chosenQueen of Beauty; but, to her great disappointment, King Rene prudentlyordained that there should be no such competition, but that the prizesshould be bestowed by his sister, the Queen of France.

  The Marquess of Suffolk requested Sir Patrick to convey to young Douglasa free offer of fitting him out for the encounter, with armour and horseif needful, and even of conferring knighthood on him, so that he mighttake his place on equal terms in the lists.

  'He would like to do it, the insolent loon!' was Geordie's grim comment.'Will De la Pole dare to talk of dubbing the Red Douglas! When I bidehis buffet, it shall be in another
sort. When I take knighthood, itshall be from my lawful King or my father.'

  'So I shall tell him,' replied Sir Patrick, 'and I deem you wise, forthere be tricks of French chivalry that a man needs to know ere he canacquit himself well in the lists; and to see you fail would scarce raiseyou in the eyes of your lady.'

  'More like they would find too much earnest in the midst of their sham?'returned Geordie. 'You had best tell your English Marquis, as he callshimself, that he had better not trust a lance in a Scotsman hand, if hewouldna have all the shams that fret me beyond my patience about theirears.'

  This was not exactly what Sir Patrick told the Marquis; though he wasfar from disapproving of the resolution. He kept an eye on this strangefollower, and was glad to see that there was no evil or licence in hisconduct, but that he chiefly consorted with David and a few otheryoung squires to whom this week, so delightful to the ladies, wasinexpressibly wearisome.

  Tournaments have been described, so far as the nineteenth centurycan describe them, so often that no one wishes to hear more of theirdetails. These had nearly reached their culmination in the middle ofthe fifteenth century. Defensive armour had become highly ornamental andvery cumbrous, so that it was scarcely possible for the champions todo one another much harm, except that a fall under such a weightwas dangerous. Thus it was only an exercise of skill in arms andhorsemanship on which the ladies gazed as they sat in the galleryaround Queen Marie, the five young princesses together forming, as theminstrels declared, a perfect wreath of loveliness. The Dauphiness, witha flush on her cheek and an eager look on her face, her tall form, anddress more carefully arranged than usual, looked well and princely;Eleanor, very like her, but much developed in expression and improvedin looks since she left home, and a beauty of her own; but the palm laybetween the other three--Yolande, tall, grave, stately, and anxious,with darker blue eyes and brown hair than her sister, who, with herinnocent childish face, showing something of the shyness of a bride, satsomewhat back, as if to conceal herself between Yolande and Jean, whowas all excitement, her cheeks flushed, and her sunny hair seeming toglow with a radiance of its own. Duke Sigismund was among the defenders,in a very splendid suit of armour, made in Italy, and embossed in thatnew taste of the Cinquecento that was fast coming in.

  The two kings began with an amicable joust, in which Rene had the bestof it. Then they took their seats, and as usual there was a good dealof riding one against the other at the lists, and shivering of lances;while some knights were borne backwards, horse and all, others had theirhelmets carried off; but Rene, who sat in great enjoyment, with hisstaff in hand, between his sister and her husband, King Charles, hadtaken care that all the weapons should be blunted. Sigismund, a tall,large, strongly made man, was for some time the leading champion.Perhaps there was an understanding that the Lion of Hapsburg and famedEagle of the Tyrol was to carry all before him and win, in an undoubtedmanner, the prize of the tourney, and the hand of the Infanta Yolande.Certainly the colour rose higher and higher in her delicate cheek, butthose nearest could see that it was not with pleasure, for she bit herlip with annoyance, and her eyes wandered in search of some one.

  Presently, in a pause, there came forward on a tall white horse amagnificently tall man, in plain but bright armour, three allerions orbeakless eagles on his breast, and on his shield a violet plant, withthe motto, Si douce est la violette. The Dauphiness leant across hersister and squeezed Yolande's hand vehemently, as the knight inclinedhis lance to the King, and was understood to crave permission to showhis prowess. Charles turned to Rene, whose good-humoured face lookedannoyed, but who could not withhold his consent. The Dauphiness, whosevehement excitement was more visible than even Yolande's, whispered toEleanor that this was Messire Ferry de Vaudemont, her true love, come towin her at point of the lance.

  History is the parent of romance, and romance now and then becomeshistory. It is an absolute and undoubted fact that Count Frederic orFerry de Vaudemont, the male representative of the line of Charles theGreat, did win his lady-love, Yolande of Anjou, by his good lance withinthe lists, and that thus the direct descent was brought eventually backto Lorraine, though this was not contemplated at the time, since Yolandehad then living both a brother and a nephew, and it was simply for herown sake that Messire Ferry, in all the strength and beauty thatdescended to the noted house of Guise, was now bearing down all beforehim, touching shield after shield, only to gain the better of theirowners in the encounter. Yolande sat with a deep colour in her cheeks,and her hands clasped rigidly together without a movement, while theLorrainer spectators, with a strong suspicion who the Knight of theViolet really was, and with a leaning to their own line, loudlyapplauded each victory.

  King Rene, long ago, had had to fight for his wife's inheritance withthis young man's father, who, supported by the strength of Burgundy, haddefeated and made him prisoner, so that he was naturally disinclined tothe match, and would have preferred the Hapsburg Duke, whose Alsatianpossessions were only divided from his own by the Vosges; but hisgenerous and romantic spirit could not choose but be gained by theproceeding of Count Ferry, and the mute appeal in the face and attitudeof his much-loved daughter.

  He could not help joining in the applause at the grace and ease of theyoung knight, till by and by all interest became concentrated on thelast critical encounter with Sigismund.

  Every one watched almost breathlessly as the big heavy Austrian, mountedon a fresh horse, and the slim Lorrainer in armour less strong but lessweighty, had their meeting. Two courses were run with mere splinteringof lance; at the third, while Rene held his staff ready to throw ifsigns of fighting _a l'outrance_ appeared, Ferry lifted his lance alittle, and when both steeds recoiled from the clash, the azure eagle ofthe Tyrol was impaled on the point of his lance, and Sigismund, thoughnot losing his saddle, was bending low on it, half stunned by the forceof the blow. Down went Rene's warder. Loud were the shouts, 'Vive theKnight of the Violet! Victory to the Allerions!'

  The voice of Rene was as clear and exulting as the rest, as the heralds,with blast of trumpet, proclaimed the Chevalier de la Violette thevictor of the day, and then came forward to lead him to the feet of theQueen of France. His helmet was removed, and at the face of manly beautythat it revealed, the applause was renewed; but as Marie held out theprize, a splendidly hilted sword, he bowed low, and said, 'Madame, oneboon alone do I ask for my guerdon.' And withal, he laid the blue eagleon his lance at the feet of Yolande.

  Rene was not the father to withstand such an appeal. He leapt from hischair of state, he hurried to Yolande in her gallery, took her by thehand, and in another moment Ferry had sprung from his horse, and on thesteps knight and lady, in their youthful glory and grace, stood handin hand, all blushes and bliss, amid the ecstatic applause of themultitude, while the Dauphiness shed tears of joy. Thus brilliantlyended the first tournament witnessed by the Scottish princesses. Eleanorhad been most interested on the whole in Duke Sigismund, and had exultedin his successes, and been sorry to see him defeated, but then she knewthat Yolande dreaded his victory, and she suspected that he did notgreatly care for Yolande, so that, since he was not hurt, and wascertainly the second in the field, she could look on with complacency.

  Moreover, at the evening's dance, when Margaret and Suffolk, Ferryand Yolande stood up for a stately pavise together, Sigismund came toEleanor, and while she was thinking whether or not to condole withhim, he shyly mumbled something about not regretting--being free--theDauphin, her brother, enduring a beaten knight. It was all in a mixtureof French and German, mostly of the latter, and far less comprehensiblethan usual, unless, indeed, maidenly shyness made her afraid tounderstand or to seem to do so. He kept on standing by her, bothof them, mute and embarrassed, not quite unconscious that they wereobserved, perhaps secretly derided by some of the lookers-on. The firstrelief was when the Dauphiness came and sat down by her sister, andbegan to talk fast in French, scarce heeding whether the Duke understoodor answered her.

  One question he asked was, who was the re
d-faced young man with stubblysunburnt hair, and a scar on his cheek, who had appeared in the lists invery gaudy but ill-fitting armour, and with a great raw-boned, snortinghorse, and now stood in a corner of the hall with his eyes steadilyfixed on the Lady Joanna.

  'So!' said Sigismund. 'That fellow is the Baron Rudiger von BatchburgDer Schelm! How has he the face to show himself here?'

  'Is he one of your Borderers--your robber Castellanes?' asked Margaret.

  'Even so! His father's castle of Balchenburg is so cunningly placed onthe march between Elsass and Lothringen that neither our good host norI can fully claim it, and these rogues shelter themselves behind oneor other of us till it is, what they call in Germany a Rat Castle, therefuge of all the ecorcheurs and routiers of this part of the country.They will bring us both down on them one of these days, but the place iswell-nigh past scaling by any save a gemsbock or an ecorcheur!'

  Jean herself had remarked the gaze of the Alsatian mountaineer. It wasthe chief homage that her beauty had received, and she was somewhatmortified at being only viewed as part of the constellation of royaltyand beauty doing honour to the Infantas. She believed, too, that if G he could have brought her out in as effective and romantic a light asthat in which Yolande had appeared, and she was in some of her moodshurt and angered with him for refraining, while in others she supposedsometimes that he was too awkward thus to venture himself, and at othersshe did him the justice of believing that he disdained to appear inborrowed plumes.

  The wedding was by no means so splendid an affair as the tournament, as,indeed, it was merely a marriage by proxy, and Yolande and her Count ofVaudemont were too near of kin to be married before a dispensation couldbe procured.

  The King and Queen of France would leave Nanci to see the bride partlyon her way. The Dauphin and his wife were to tarry a day or two behind,and the princesses belonged to their Court. Sir Patrick had fulfilledhis charge of conducting them to their sister, and he had now to availhimself of the protection of the King's party as far as possible onthe way to Paris, where he would place Malcolm at the University, andlikewise meet his daughter's bridegroom and his father.

  Dame Lilias did not by any means like leaving her young cousins, so longher charge, without attendants of their own; but the Dauphinessgave them a tirewoman of her own, and undertook that Madame de Ste.Petronelle should attend them in case of need, as well as that she wouldendeavour to have Annis, when Madame de Terreforte, at her Court aslong as they were there. They also had a squire as equerry, and GeorgeDouglas was bent on continuing in that capacity till his outfit from hisfather arrived, as it was sure to do sooner or later.

  Margaret knew who he was, and promised Sir Patrick to do all in herpower for him, as truly his patience and forbearance well deserved.

  It was a very sorrowful parting between the two maidens and the Lady ofGlenuskie, who for more than half a year had been as a mother to them,nay, more than their own mother had ever been; and bad done much tomitigate the sharp angles of their neglected girlhood by her influence.In a very few months more she would see James, and Mary, and the'weans'; and the three sisters loaded her with gifts, letters, andmessages for all. Eleanor promised never to forget her counsel, andto strive not to let the bright new world drive away all those devoutfeelings and hopes that Mother Clare and King Henry had inspired, andthat Lady Drummond had done her best to keep up.

  Duke Sigismund had communicated to Sir Patrick his intention of making aformal request to King James for the hand of the Lady Eleanor. He wasto find an envoy to make his proposal in due form, who would join SirPatrick at Terreforte after the wedding was over, so as to go with theparty to Scotland.

  Meantime, with many fond embraces and tears, Lady Drummond took leaveof her princesses, and they owned themselves to feel as if a protectingwall had been taken away in her and her husband.

  'It is folly, though, thus to speak,' said Jean, 'when we have oursister, and her husband, and his father, and all his Court to protectus.'

  'We ought to be happy,' said Eleanor gravely. 'Outside here at Nanci,it is all that my fancy ever shaped, and yet--and yet there is a strangesense of fear beyond.'

  'Oh, talk not that gate,' cried Jean, 'as thou wilt be having thygruesome visions!'

  'No; it is not of that sort,' returned Eleanor. 'I trow not! It may berather the feeling of the vanity of all this world's show.'

  'Oh, for mercy's sake, dinna let us have clavers of that sort, or weshall have thee in yon nunnery!' exclaimed Jean. 'See this girdle ofMaggie's, which she has given me. Must I not make another hole to drawit up enough for my waist?'

  'Jean herself was much disappointed when Margaret, with great regret,told her that the Dauphin had to go out of his way to visit some castleson his way to Chalons sur Marne, and that he could not encumber hishosts with so large a train as the presence of two royal ladies renderedneedful. They were, therefore, to travel by another route, leadingthrough towns where there were hostels. Madame de Ste. Petronelle was togo with them, and an escort of trusty Scots archers, and all would meetagain in a fortnight's time.

  All sounded simple and easy, and Margaret repeated, 'It will be a troopquite large enough to defend you from all ecorcheurs; indeed, they darenot come near our Scottish archers, whom Messire, my husband, has toldoff for your escort. And you will have your own squire,' she added,looking at Jean.

  'That's as he lists,' said Jean scornfully.

  'Ah, Jeanie, Jeanie, thou mayst have to rue it if thou turn'st lightlyfrom a leal heart.'

  'I'm not damsel-errant of romance, as thou and Elleen would fain be,'said Jean.

  'Nay,' said Margaret, 'love is not mere romance. And oh, sister, creditme, a Scots lassie's heart craves better food than crowns and coronets.Hard and unco' cold be they, where there is no warmth to meet theyearning soul beneath, that would give all and ten times more for oneglint of a loving eye, one word from a tender lip.' Again she had one ofthose hysteric bursts of tears, but she laughed herself back, crying,'But what is the treason wifie saying of her gudeman--her Louis, thatnever yet said a rough word to his Meg?'

  Then came another laugh, but she gathered herself up at a summons tocome down and mount.

  She was tenderly embraced by all, King Rene kissing her and calling herhis dear niece and princess of minstrelsy, who should come to him atToulouse and bestow the golden violet.

  She rode away, looking back smiling and kissing her hand, but Eleanor'seyes grew wide and her cheeks pale.

  'Jean,' she murmured, low and hoarsely, 'Margaret's shroud is up to herthroat.'

  'Hoots with thy clavers,' exclaimed Jeanie in return. 'I never let theesing that fule song, but Meg's fancies have brought the megrims intothine head! Thou and she are pair.'

  'That we shall be nae longer,' sighed Eleanor. 'I saw the shroud asclear as I see yon cross on the spire.'