Joan of the Sword Hand
Page 39
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE RETURN OF THE BRIDE
"Prince Louis," continued Ivan, turning to the Prince, "we are keepingthese holy men needlessly, as well as disappointing the good folk ofCourtland of their spectacle. There is no need that we should stand hereany longer. We have matters to discuss with this gentleman and--hiswife. Have I your leave to bring them together in the Palace? We mayhave something to say to them more at leisure."
But the Prince of Courtland made no answer. His late fears of the BlackDeath, the astonishing turn affairs had taken, the discovery that hiswife was not his wife, the slowly percolating thought that his invasionof Kernsberg, his victories there, and his triumphal re-entry into hiscapital, had all been in vain, united with his absorbing fear ofridicule to deprive him of speech. He moved his hand angrily and beganto 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 ofmy staff," he said, with smiling equality of courtesy; "there is no needto discuss intimate family affairs before half the rabble of Courtland."
He bowed to Maurice as if he had been inviting him to a feast. Mauricelooked about the crowded square, and over the pennons of the Cossacks.He knew there was no hope either in flight or in resistance. All theapproaches 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. ThePrince of Muscovy does not precede a lady, a princess,--and a bride!"
So it came about that Margaret, after all, descended the cathedral stepson her husband's arm.
And as the cavalcade rode back to the Palace the Princess was in themidst between the Sparhawk and Prince Wasp, Louis of Courtland pacingmoodily ahead, his bridle reins loose upon his horse's neck, his chinsunk 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 bagof coin. He dipped his fingers deeply in and scattered the coins with afree hand, crying loudly, "To the health and long life of the PrincessMargaret and her husband! Health and riches and offspring!"
And the mob taking the word from him shouted all along the narrowstreets, "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 ofCourtland looked down to see the great folk pass. And their comment wasnot 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, bymy faith, I looked more at my Fritz than she doth at the Muscovite. Ideclare all her eyes are for that handsome lad who rides at her leftelbow----"
"Nay, he is not handsome--look at his face. It is as white as anew-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 rackingmy brains to think where I had seen him before, and then, after all, Inever _had_ seen him before!"
"A miracle it is, gossip, and right pale he looks! Yet I should notwonder if our Margaret loves him the most. Her eyes seek to him. Womenamong the great are not like us. They say they never like their ownhusbands the best. What wouldst thou do, good neighbour Bette, if Iloved your Hans better than mine own stupid old Fritz! Pull the stringsoff my cap, dame, sayst thou? That shows thee no great lady. For if thouwast of the great, thou wouldst no more than wave thy hand and say, 'Agood riddance and a heartsome change!'--and with that begin to make loveto the next young lad that came by with his thumbs in his armholes and afeather in his cap!"
"And what o' the childer--the house-bairns--what o' them? With all thismixing 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 ownmothers' arms. They learn not their Duty from their mothers' lips. Whenthey are fractious, a stranger beats them till they be good----"
"Ah," cried the court of matrons all in unison, "I would like to catchone of the fremit lay a hand on my Karl--my Kirsten--that I would! Iwould comb their hair for them, tear the pinner off their backs--that Iwould!" "And I!" "And I!"
"Nay, good gossips all," out of the chorus the voice of the dame learnedin the ways of the great asserted itself; "that, again, proves you allno 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 thebreast, will go near and say--I have heard 'em--'La! the pretty thing--apoppet! Well-a-well, 'tis pretty, for sure! And whose baby may thisbe?'
"'Thine own, lady, thine own!'"
At this long and loud echoed the derision of the good wives ofCourtland. Their gossip laughed and reasserted. But no, they would nothear 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, amother would yet know her child. 'Tis not in nature else! Well, thanksbe to Mary Mother--she who knew both wife-pain and mother-joy, we, atleast, are not of the great. We may hush our own bairns to sleep, dancewith them when they frolic, and correct them when they benaughty-minded. Nevertheless, a good luck go with our noble lady thisday! May she have many fair children and a husband to love her even asif she were a common woman and no princess!"
So in little jerks of blessing and with much head-shaking the good wivesof Courtland continued their congress, long after the last Cossack lancewith its fluttering pennon had been lost to view down the windingstreet.
For, indeed, well might the gossips thank the Virgin and their patronsaints that they were not as the poor Princess Margaret, and that theirworst troubles concerned only whether Hans or Fritz tarried a littleover-long in the town wine-cellars, or wagered the fraction of a pennytoo much on a neighbour's cock-fight, and so returned home somewhatcrusty because the wrong bird had won the main.
* * * * *
But in the Prince's palace other things were going forward. Hitherto wehave had to do with the Summer Palace by the river, a building of nostrength, and built more as a pleasure house for the princely familythan as a place of permanent habitation. But the Castle of Courtland wasa structure of another sort.
Set on a low rock in the centre of the town, its walls rose continuouswith its foundations, equally massive and impregnable, to the height ofover seventy feet. For the first twenty-five neither window nor gratingbroke the grim uniformity of those mighty walls of mortared rock. Abovethat line only a few small openings half-closed with iron bars evidencedthe fact that a great prince had his dwelling within. The main entranceto the Castle was through a gateway closed by a grim iron-toothedportcullis. Then a short tunnel led to another and yet strongerdefence--a deep natural fosse which surrounded the rock on all sides,and over which a drawbridge conducted into the courtyard of thefortress.
The Sparhawk knew very well that he was going to his death as he rodethrough the streets of the city of Courtland, but none would havediscovered from his bearing that there was aught upon his mind of graverconcern than the fit of a doublet or, perhaps, the favour of a prettymaid-of-honour. But with the Princess Margaret it was different. Inthese last crowded hours she had quite lost her old gay defiance. Herwhole heart was fixed on Maurice, and the tears would not be bitten backwhen she thought of the fate to which he was going with so manly acourage and so fine an air.
They dismounted in the gloomy courtyard, and Maurice, slipping quic
klyfrom his saddle, caught Margaret in his arms before the Muscovite couldinterfere. She clung to him closely, knowing that it might be for thelast time.
"Maurice, Maurice," she murmured, "can you forgive me? I have broughtyou to this!"
"Hush, sweetheart," he answered in her ear; "be my own dear princess. Donot 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 ofsuch turtle-doves, were it not that their affection blinds them to thefact that the men-at-arms and scullions are witnesses to these prettydemonstrations. Tarry a little, sweet valentines--time and place waitfor all things."
The Princess commanded herself quickly. In another moment she was oncemore Margaret of Courtland.
"Even the Prince of Muscovy might spare a lady his insults at such atime!" she said.
The Prince bared his head and bowed low.
"Nay," he said very courteously; "you mistake, Princess Margaret. Iinsult 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, andit 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; "youhave no sword. A prisoner, and (if I may say so without offence) a spytaken red-hand, cannot fight duels. The Prince of Courtland must settlethis matter. When his Justiciar is satisfied, I shall most willinglytake up my quarrel with--whatever is left of the most noble CountMaurice von Lynar."
To this Maurice did not reply, but with Margaret still beside him hefollowed Prince Louis up the narrow ancient stairway called from itsshape the couch, into the gloomy audience chamber of the Castle ofCourtland.
They reached the hall, and then at last, as though restored to power byhis surroundings, Prince Louis found his tongue.
"A guard!" he cried; "hither Berghoff, Kampenfeldt! Conduct the Princessto her privy chamber and do not permit her to leave it without mypermission. 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, Margaretcried 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, Countvon Loeen. 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 Ivansubtly--"_till death you do part!_"