CHAPTER XXII
THE HOUSE ON THE DUNES
The woman in the crimson cloak waited for Joan to be assisted from theboat, and then, without a word of greeting, led the way up a littlesanded path to a gate which opened in a high stone wall. Through thisshe admitted her guests, whereupon they found themselves in an enclosurewith towers and battlements rising dimly all round. It was planted withfragrant bushes and fruit trees whose leaves brushed pleasantly againsttheir faces as they walked in single file following their guide.
Then came a long grey building, another door, small and creaking heavilyon unaccustomed hinges, a sudden burst of light, and lo! the wanderersfound themselves within a lighted hall, wherein were many stands of armsand armour, mingled with skins of wild animals, wide-spreadingmany-tined antlers, and other records of the chase.
The woman who had been their guide now set down her lantern and allowedthe hood of her cloak to slide from her head. Werner and his two malecompanions the captains of Plassenburg, fell back a little at theapparition. They had expected to see some hag or crone, fit companion oftheir wordless guide.
Instead, a woman stood before them, not girlish certainly, nor yet inthe first bloom of her youth, but glorious even among fair women byreason of the very ripeness of her beauty. Her hair shone full auburnwith shadows of heavy burnt-gold upon its coils. It clustered about thebroad low brow in a few simple locks, then, sweeping back round her headin 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 graciousbeauty to be the mother of such a tense young yew-bow as Maurice vonLynar.
Yet she had said it, and women do not lie (affirmatively) about such amatter. So, indeed, at heart thought Werner von Orseln.
"My lady Joan," she said, in the same thrilling voice, "my son has sentme word that till a certain great danger is overpast you are to abidewith 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 ownlife has done. I ask you, therefore, to respect our privacy, as also toimpose the same upon your soldiers."
The Duchess Joan bowed slightly.
"As you doubtless know, I have not come hither of my own free will," sheanswered haughtily; "but I thank you, madam, for your hospitality. Restassured that the amenity of your dwelling shall not be endangered byme!"
The two looked at each other with that unyielding "at-arm's-length"eyeshot which signifies instinctive antipathy between women of strongwills.
Then with a large gesture the elder indicated the way up the broadstaircase, and throwing her own cloak completely off she caught itacross her arm as it dropped, and so followed Joan out of sight.
Werner von Orseln stood looking after them a little bewildered. But themore experienced Boris and Jorian exchanged significant glances witheach 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 favouriteadjective.
* * * * *
Nevertheless, instinct was so strong that, as soon as the women hadwithdrawn themselves upstairs, the three captains seized the lantern andstarted towards the door to make the round of the defences. The WordlessMan accompanied them unasked. The square enclosure in which they foundthemselves seemed liker an old fortified farmhouse or grange than aregular castle, though the walls were thick as those of any fortress,being loopholed for musketry, and (in those days of bombards few andheavy) capable of standing a siege in good earnest against a small army.
The doors were of thick oak crossed in all directions with strengtheningiron. The three captains examined every barred window with keenprofessional curiosity, and, coming to another staircase in a distantpart of the house, Von Orseln intimated to the dumb man that they wishedto examine it. In rapid pantomime he indicated to them that there was anascending flight of steps leading round and round a tower till aplatform was reached, from which (gazing out under his hand and makingwith his finger the shape of battlements) he gave them to understandthat an extensive prospect was to be enjoyed.
With an inward resolve to ascend that stair and look upon that prospectat an early hour on the morrow, the three captains returned through thehall into a long dining-room vaulted above with beams of solid oak.Curtains were drawn close all about the walls. In the recesses were manystands of arms of good and recent construction, and opening a cupboardwith the freedom of a man-at-arms, Boris saw ramrods, powder and shothorns 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 staircasewas heard. The Wordless Man moved to the door and held it open as Joancame in with a proud high look on her face. She was still pale, partlywith travel and partly from the seething indignant angers of her heart.Von Lynar's mother entered immediately after her guest, and it needednothing more subtle than Werner von Orseln's masculine acumen to discernthat no word had been spoken between them while they were alone.
With a queenly gesture the hostess motioned her guest to the place ofhonour at her right hand, and indicated that the three soldiers were totake their places at the other side of the table. Werner von Orselnmoved automatically to obey, but Jorian and Boris were already at thesideboard, dusting platters and making them ready to serve the meal.
"I thank you, madam," said Jorian. "Were we here as envoys of ourmaster, Prince Hugo of Plassenburg, we would gladly and proudly sit atmeat with you. But we are volunteers, and have all our lives beenmen-at-arms. We will therefore assist this good gentleman to serve, anit 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-placefor great ladies just now. The Duchess Joan will indeed be safer herethan elsewhere till the Muscovites have gone home, and the hill-folk ofHohenstein have only the Courtlanders to deal with. All the same, wecould have wished to have been permitted to speak with the Muscovite inthe gate!"
"My son remains in Castle Kernsberg?" she asked, with an upwardinflection, an indescribable softness at the same time overspreading herface, and a warmth coming into the grey eyes which showed what thiswoman might be to those whom she really loved.
"He keeps the Castle, indeed--in his mistress's absence and mine," saidWerner. "He will make a good soldier. Our lady has already made himCount von Loeen, that he may be the equal of those who care for suchtitles."
A strange flash as of remembrance and emotion passed over the face oftheir 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 mymistress the Duchess Joan, as I was also of her father, Henry the Lionof 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 isyoung, and deserves this fortune, madam. He will doubtless do greathonour 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 thethree who sat at table, and though their hostess and Werner von Orselnpartook of the fish and brawn and fruit which their three servitors setbefore them in silver platters, it was but sparingly and withoutappetite.
All were glad when the meal wa
s over and they could rise from the table.As soon as possible Boris and Jorian got outside into the long passagewhich led to the kitchen.
"Ha!" cried Boris, "I declare I would have burst if I had stayed inthere another quarter hour! It was solemn as serving Karl the Great andhis longbeards in their cellar under the Hartz. I wonder if they aregoing to keep it up all the time after this fashion!"
"And this is pleasure," rejoined Jorian gloomily; "not even a goodrousing fight on the way. And then--why, prayers for the dead arecheerful as dance-gardens in July to that festal board. Good Lord! giveme 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 likeBaltic ice."
"Jorian," said Boris, solemnly lowering his voice to a whisper, "if thatCourtland fellow had known what we know, he would have been none soeager 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 themelting!" retorted Boris.
"But I know who could!" said Jorian, nodding his head with an air ofimmense sagacity.
Boris went on cutting brawn upon a wooden platter with a swift andcareful hand. The old servitor moved noiselessly about behind them, withfeet 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 amoment with the latch in her hand, ready to enter.
"Our Sparhawk could melt the Baltic ice!" said Jorian, and winked atBoris 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 mustardpot beside it upon the deal table with a resounding clap.
"There!" he cried, "fill your silly mouth with that, Fatsides! 'Tis allyou are good for. I have stood a deal of fine larded ignorance from youin my time, but nothing like this. You will be saying next that my LadyDuchess is taking a fancy to you!"
"She might do worse!" said Jorian philosophically, as he stirred themustard with his knife and looked about for the ale tankard.
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