Joan of the Sword Hand

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER XIV

  AT THE HIGH ALTAR

  When Maurice von Lynar reached the open air he stood for full fiveminutes, light-headed in the rush of the city traffic. The louditeration of rejoicing sounded heartless and even impertinent in hisear. The world had changed for the young Dane since the Count von Loeenhad been summoned by the Princess Margaret.

  He cast his mind back over the interview, but failed to disentangleanything definite. It was a maze of impressions out of which grew thecertainty that, safely to play his difficult part, he must obtain thewhole confidence of the Duchess Joan.

  He looked about for the Prince of Muscovy, but failed to see him. Thoughnot anxious about the result, he was rather glad, for he did not wantanother quarrel on his hands till after the wedding. He would see thePrincess Margaret there. If he played his cards well with the bride, hemight even be sent for to escort her.

  So he made his way to the magnificent suite of apartments where theDuchess was lodged. The Prince had ordered everything with greatconsideration. Her own horsemen patrolled the front of the palace, andthe Courtland guards were for the time being wholly withdrawn.

  "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 hadled many a dashing foray and been the foremost in many a briskencounter, should be a bride! It could not be that once he hadimagined her the fairest woman under the sun, and himself, for her sake,the most miserable of men. Thus do lovers deceive themselves when thenew has come to obliterate the old. Some can even persuade themselvesthat the old never had any existence.

  The young Dane found the Duchess walking up and down on the noblepromenade which faces the river to the west. For the water curved in aspacious elbow about the city of Courtland, and the summer palace wasplaced in the angle.

  Maurice von Lynar stood awhile respectfully waiting for the Duchess torecognise him. Werner, John of Thorn, or any of her Kernsberg captainswould have gone directly up to her. But this youth had been trained inanother school.

  Joan of Hohenstein stood a while without moving, looking out upon theriver. She thought with a kind of troubled shyness of the morrow, oftdreamed of, long expected. She saw the man whom she was not known everto have seen--the noble young man of the tournament, the gracious Princeof the summer parlour, courteous and dignified alike to the poorsecretary of embassy and to his sister the Princess Margaret ofCourtland. Surely there never was any one like him--proudly thought thisgirl, as she looked across the river at the rich plain studded withfar-smiling farms and fields just waking to life after their long wintersleep.

  "Ah, Von Lynar, my brave Dane, what good wind blows you here?" shecried. "I declare I was longing for some one to talk to." Aconsciousness of need which had only just come to her.

  "I have seen the Princess Margaret," said the youth slowly, "and I thinkthat she must mistake me for some other person. She spoke things moststrange to me to hear. But fearing I might meddle with affairs wherewithI had no concern, I forebore to correct her."

  The eyes of the Duchess danced. A load seemed suddenly lifted off hermind.

  "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 CountVon Loeen. Then she reproached me fiercely because I denied it. Afterthat she spoke of certain foreign customs she had been taught, recalledwalks through corridors and rose gardens with me, till my head swam andI knew not what to answer."

  Joan of the Sword Hand laughed a merry peal.

  "The Count von Loeen, did she say?" she meditated. "Well, so you are theCount von Loeen. I create you the Count von Loeen now. I give you thetitle. It is mine to give. By to-morrow I shall have done with all thesethings. And since as the Count von Loeen I drank the wine, it is fairthat you, who have to pay the reckoning, should be the Count von Loeenalso."

  "My family is noble, and I am the sole heir--that is, alive," saidMaurice, a little drily. To his mind the grandson of Count von Lynar, ofthe 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-nightthat I would like to make all the world happy. I am sorry for all thefolk 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 hisdusky skin.

  "Poor Maurice!" she said, touching his bowed head with her hand, "yourtroubles will not be to seek."

  "My lady," said the youth, "I fear not trouble. I have promised to servethe Princess in all things. She has been very kind to me. She hasforgiven me all."

  "So--you are anxious to change your allegiance," saidthe Duchess. "It is as well that I have already made you Count von Loeen,and so in a manner bound you to me, or you would be going off intoanother's service with all my secrets in your keeping. Not that it willmatter very much--after to-morrow!" she added, with a glance at the wingof the palace which held the summer parlour. "But how did you manage toappease her? That is no mean feat. She is an imperious lady and quick ofunderstanding."

  Then Maurice von Lynar told his mistress of his most allowablefalsehoods, and begged her not to undeceive the Princess, for that hewould rather bear all that she might put upon him than that she shouldknow he had lied to her.

  "Do not be afraid," said the Duchess, laughing, "it was I who tangledthe skein. So far you have unravelled it very well. The least I can dois to leave you to unwind it to the end, my brave Count von Loeen."

  So they parted, the Duchess to her apartment, and the young man to paceup and down the stone-flagged promenade all night, thinking of thedistracting whimsies of the Princess Margaret, of the hopelessness ofhis love, and, most of all, of how daintily exquisite and altogetherdesirable 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 mistycloud overspread the city and tempered the heat. It had come up with themorning wind from the Baltic, and by eight the ships at the quays, andthe tall beflagged festal masts in the streets through which theprocession was to pass, ran clear up into it and were lost, so that thestandards and pennons on their tops could not be seen any more than ifthey had been amongst the stars.

  The streets were completely lined with the folk of the city ofCourtland as the Princess Margaret, with the Sparhawk and his company oflances clattering behind her, rode to the entrance of the palace whereabode the bride-elect.

  "Who is that youth?" asked Margaret of Courtland of Joan, as they cameout together; she looked at the Dane--"he at the head of your firsttroops? He looks like your brother."

  "He has often been taken for such!" said the bride. "He is called theCount von Loeen!"

  The Princess did not reply, and as the two fair women came out arm inarm, a sudden glint of sunlight broke through the leaden clouds and fellupon them, glorifying the white dress of the one, and the blue and goldapparel of the other.

  The bells of the minster clanged a changeful thunder of brazen acclaimas the bride set out for the first time (so they told each other on thestreets) to see her promised husband.

  "'Twas well we did not so manage our affairs, Hans," said a fishmonger'swife, touching her husband's arm archly.

  "Yea, wife," returned the seller of fish; "whatever thou beest, at leastI 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 herattiring, or, perhaps, gossiping with the bride. So that when the shoutsin the wide Minster Place announced their arrival, all was in readinesswithin the crowded church, and the bridegroom had gone in well-nigh halfan 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 shewent up the aisle, with Margaret of Courtland by her side. She kept hereyes on the ground, for she meant to look at no one and behold nothingtill she should see--that which she longed to look upon.

  Suddenly she was conscious that they had stopped in the middle of a vastsilence. The candles upon the great altar threw down a golden lustre.Joan saw the irregular shining of them on her white bridal dress, andwondered that it should be so bright.

  There was a hush over all the assembly, the silence of a great multitudeall intent upon one thing.

  "My brother, the Prince of Courtland!" said the voice of the PrincessMargaret.

  Slowly Joan raised her eyes--pride and happiness at war with a kind ofglorious shame upon her face.

  But that one look altered all things.

  She stood fixed, aghast, turned to stone as she gazed. She could neitherspeak nor think. That which she saw almost struck her dead with horror.

  The man whom his sister introduced as the Prince of Courtland was notthe knight of the tournament. He was not the young prince of the summerpalace. He was a man much older, more meagre of body, grey-headed, withan odd sidelong expression in his eyes. His shoulders were bent, and hecarried himself like a man prematurely old.

  And there, behind the altar-railing, clad in the scarlet of a prince ofthe Church, and wearing the mitre of a bishop, stood the husband of herheart's deepest thoughts, the man who had never been out of her mind allthese weary months. He held a service book in his hand, and stood readyto marry Joan of Hohenstein to another.

  The man who was called Prince of Courtland came forward to take herhand; but Joan stood with her arms firmly at her sides. The terriblenature of her mistake flashed upon her and grew in horror with everymoment. Fate seemed to laugh suddenly and mockingly in her face. Destinyshut her in.

  "Are you the Prince of Courtland?" she asked; and at the sound of hervoice, unwontedly clear in the great church, even the organ appeared tostill itself. All listened intently, though only a few heard theconversation.

  "I have that honour," bowed the man with the bent shoulders.

  "Then, as God lives, I will never marry you!" cried Joan, all her soulin the disgust of her voice.

  "Be not disdainful, my lady," said the bridegroom mildly; "I will beyour humble slave. You shall have a palace and an establishment of yourown, an it like you. The marriage was your father's desire, and hath thesanction of the Emperor. It is as necessary for your State as for mine."

  Then, while the people waited in a kind of palpitating uncertainty, thePrincess Margaret whispered to the bride, who stood with a face ashenpale as her own white dress.

  Sometimes she looked at the Prince of Courtland, and then immediatelyaverted her eyes. But never, after the first glance, did Joan permitthem to stray to the face of him who stood behind the altar railingswith 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 andleading 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 thecrowded minster as Joan of Hohenstein was married to his elder brother,and with the closing words of the episcopal benediction an awe fell uponthe multitude. They felt that they were in the presence of great unknownforces, the action and interaction of which might lead no man knewwhither.

  At the close of the service, Joan, now Princess of Courtland, leanedover and whispered a word to her chosen captain, Maurice von Lynar, anaction noticed by few. The young man started and gazed into her face;but, immediately commanding his emotion, he nodded and disappeared by aside door.

  The great organ swelled out. The marriage procession was re-formed. Theprince-bishop had retired to his sacristy to change his robes. The newPrincess of Courtland came down the aisle on the arm of her husband.

  Then the bells almost turned over in their fury of jubilation, and everycannon in the city bellowed out. The people shouted themselves hoarse,and the line of Courtland troops who kept the people back had greatdifficulty in restraining the enthusiasm which threatened to break allbounds and involve the married pair in a whirling tumult of acclaim.

  In the centre of the Minster Place the four hundred lances of theKernsberg escort had formed up, a serried mass of beautiful well-groomedhorses, stalwart men, and shining spears, from each of which the pennonof their mistress fluttered in the light wind.

  "Ha! there they come at last! See them on the steps!" The shouts rangout, and the people flung their headgear wildly into the air. The lineof Courtland foot saluted, but no cheer came from the array of Kernsberglances.

  "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 thewine gurgled out of the pigskins into innumerable thirsty mouths.

  On the steps of the minster, after they had descended more thanhalf-way, the new Princess of Courtland turned upon her lord. Her handslipped from his arm, which hung a moment crooked and empty before itdropped to his side. His mouth was a little open with surprise. PrinceLouis knew that he was wedding a wilful dame, but he had not beenprepared for this.

  "Now, my lord," said the Princess Joan, loud and clear. "I have marriedyou. The bond of heritage-brotherhood is fulfilled. I have obeyed myfather to the letter. I have obeyed the Emperor. I have done all. Now beit known to you and to all men that I will neither live with you nor yetin your city. I am your wife in name. You shall never be my husband inaught else. I bid you farewell, Prince of Courtland. Joan of Hohensteinmay marry where she is bidden, but she loves where she will."

  The horse upon which she had come to the minster stood waiting. Therewas the Sparhawk ready to help her into the saddle.

  Ere one of the wedding guests could move to prevent her, before thePrince of Courtland could cry an order or decide what to do, Joan of theSword Hand had placed herself at the head of her four hundred lances,and was riding through the shouting streets towards the Plassenburggate.

  The people cheered as she went by, clearing the way that she might notbe annoyed. They thought it part of the day's show, and voted theKernsbergers a gallant band, well set up and right bravely arrayed.

  So they passed through the gate in safety. The noble portal was allaflutter with colour, the arms of Hohenstein and Courtland beingquartered together on a great wooden plaque over the main entrance.

  As soon as they were clear the Princess Joan turned in her saddle andspake 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. Areyou with me, lads of the hills?"

  Then came back a unanimous shout of "Aye--to the death!" from fourhundred throats.

  "Then give me a sword and put the horses to their speed. We ride forhome. 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 brotherConrad, Cardinal and Prince of Holy Church.