Joan of the Sword Hand

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER XLVI

  THE FEAR THAT IS IN LOVE

  Thus the climax came about in the twinkling of an eye, but the universalturmoil and wild jubilation in which Prince Louis's power and governmentwere swept away had really been preparing for years, though the end fellsharp as the thunderclap that breaks the weather after a season ofparching heat.

  For all that the trouble was only deferred, not removed. The cruel deathof Maurice von Lynar had been rendered impossible by the opportunearrival of Prince Conrad and the sudden revolution which the sight ofhis noble and beloved form, clad in armour, produced among the disgustedand impulsive Courtlanders.

  Yet the arch-foe had only recoiled in order that he might the furtherleap. The great army of the White Czar was encamped just across thefrontier, nominally on the march to Poland, but capable of being in amoment diverted upon the Princedom of Courtland. Here was a pretext ofinvasion ripe to Prince Ivan's hand. So he kept Louis, the dethroned andextruded prince, close beside him. He urged his father, by every tie offriendship and interest, to replace that prince upon his throne. And theCzar Paul, well knowing that the restoration of Louis meant nothing lessthan the incorporation of Courtland with his empire, hastened to carryout his son's advice.

  In Courtland itself there was no confusion. A certain grim determinationtook possession of the people. They had made their choice, and theywould abide by it. They had chosen Conrad to be their ruler, as he hadlong been their only hope; and they knew that now Louis was for everimpossible, save as a cloak for a Muscovite dominion.

  It had been the first act of Conrad to summon to him all the archpriestsand heads of chapels and monasteries by virtue of his office asCardinal-Archbishop. He represented to them the imminent danger to HolyChurch of yielding to the domination of the Greek heretic. Whoever mightbe spared, the Muscovite would assuredly make an end of them. Hepromised absolution from the Holy Father to all who would assist inbulwarking religion and the Church of Peter against invasion anddestruction. He himself would for the time being lay aside his officeand fight as a soldier in the sacred war which was before them. Everyconsideration must give way to that. Then he would lay the whole matterat the feet of the Holy Father in Rome.

  So throughout every town and village in Courtland the war of the Faithwas preached. No presbytery but became a recruiting office. Every pulpitwas a trumpet proclaiming a righteous war. There was to be no salvationfor any Courtlander save in defending his faith and country. It wasagreed by all that there was no hope save in the blessed rule of PrinceConrad, at once worthy Prince of the Blood, Prince of Holy Church, anddefender of our blessed religion. Prince Louis was a deserter and aheretic. The Pope would depose him, even as (most likely) he had cursedhim already.

  So, thus encouraged, the country rose behind the retiring Muscovite, andPrince Louis was conducted across the boundary of his princedom underthe bitter thunder of cannon and the hiss of Courtland arrows. And thecraven trembled as he listened to the shouted maledictions of his ownpeople, and begged for a common coat, lest his archer guard shoulddistinguish their late Prince and wing their clothyard shafts at him ashe cowered a little behind Prince Ivan's shoulder.

  Meanwhile Joan, casting aside with an exultant leap of the heart herintent to make of herself an obedient wife, rode back to Kernsberg inorder to organise all the forces there to meet the common foe. It was tobe the last fight of the Teuton Northland for freedom and faith.

  The Muscovite does not go back, and if Courtland were conqueredKernsberg could not long stand. To Plassenburg (as we have seen) rodeBoris and Jorian to plead for help from their Prince and Princess.Dessauer had already preceded them, and the armies, disciplined andequipped by Prince Karl, were already on the march to defend theirfrontiers--it might be to go farther and fight shoulder to shoulder withCourtland and Kernsberg against the common foe.

  And if all this did not happen, it would not be the fault of thosehonest soldiers and admirable diplomatists, Captains Boris and Jorian,captains of the Palace Guard of Plassenburg.

  * * * * *

  The presence of Prince Conrad in the city of Courtland seemed to changeentirely the character of the people. From being somewhat frivolous theybecame at once devoted to the severest military discipline. Nothing washeard but words of command and the ordered tramp of marching feet. Thecountry barons and knights brought in their forces, and their tents, allgay with banners and fluttering pennons, stretched white along the Allafor a mile or more.

  The word was on every lip, "When will they come?"

  For already the Muscovite allies of Prince Louis had crossed thefrontier and were moving towards Courtland, destroying everything intheir track.

  The day after the deliverance of the Sparhawk, Joan had announced herintention of riding on the morrow to Kernsberg. Maurice von Lynar andVon Orseln would accompany her.

  "Then," cried Margaret instantly, "I will go, too!"

  "The ride would be over toilsome for you," said Joan, pausing to touchher friend's hair as she looked forth from the window of the Castle ofCourtland at the Sparhawk ordering about a company of stout countrymenin the courtyard beneath.

  "I _will_ go!" said Margaret wilfully. "I shall never let him out of mysight again!"

  "We shall be back within the week! You will be both safer and morecomfortable here!"

  The Princess Margaret withdrew her head from the open window,momentarily losing sight of her husband and, in so doing, making vainher last words.

  "Ah, Joan," she said reproachfully, "you are wise and strong--there isno one like you. But you do not know what it is to be married. You neverwere in love. How, then, can you understand the feelings of a wife?"

  She looked out of the window again and waved a kerchief.

  "Oh, Joan," she looked back again with a mournful countenance, "I dobelieve that Maurice does not love me as I love him. He never took theleast notice of me when I waved to him!"

  "How could he," demanded Joan, the soldier's daughter, sharply, "he wason duty?"

  "Well," answered Margaret, still resentful and unconsoled, "he would nothave done that _before_ we were married! And it is only the first day wehave been together, too, since--since----"

  And she buried her head in her kerchief.

  Joan looked at the Princess a moment with a tender smile. Then she gavea little sigh and went over to her friend. She laid her hand on hershoulder and knelt down beside her.

  "Margaret," she whispered, "you used to be so brave. When I was here,and had to fight the Sparhawk's battles with Prince Wasp, you were asheadstrong as any young squire desiring to win his spurs. You wished tosee us fight, do you remember?"

  The Princess took one corner of her white and dainty kerchief away fromher eyes in order to look yet more reproachfully at her friend.

  "Ah," she said, "that shows! Of course, I knew. You were not _he_, yousee; I knew that in a moment."

  Joan restrained a smile. She did not remind her friend that then she hadnever seen "him." The Princess Margaret went on.

  "Joan," she cried suddenly, "I wish to ask you something!"

  She clasped her hands with a sweet petitionary grace.

  "Say on, little one!" said Joan smiling.

  "There will be a battle, Joan, will there not?"

  Joan of the Sword Hand nodded. She took a long breath and drew her headfurther back. Margaret noted the action.

  "It is very well for you, Joan," she said; "I know you are more thanhalf a man. Every one says so. And then you do not love any one, and youlike fighting. But--you may laugh if you will--I am not going to let myhusband fight. I want you to let him go to Plassenburg till it is over!"

  Joan laughed aloud.

  "And you?" she said, still smiling good-naturedly.

  It was now Margaret's turn to draw herself up.

  "You are not kind!" she said. "I am asking you a favour for my husband,not for myself. Of course I should accompany him! _I_ at least am freeto come and go!"

  "My dear,
my dear," said Joan gently, "you are at liberty to proposethis to your husband! If he comes and asks me, he shall not lackpermission."

  "You mean he would not go to Plassenburg even if I asked him?"

  "I know he would not--he, the bravest soldier, the best knight----"

  There came a knocking at the door.

  "Enter!" cried Joan imperiously, yet not a little glad of theinterruption.

  Werner von Orseln stood in the portal. Joan waited for him to speak.

  "My lady," he said, "will you bid the Count von Loeen leave his work andtake some rest and sustenance. He thinks of nothing but his drill."

  "Oh, yes, he does," cried the Princess Margaret; "how dare you say it,fellow! He thinks of me! Why, even now----"

  She looked once more out of the window, a smile upon her face. Instantlyshe drew in her head again and sprang to her feet.

  "Oh, he is gone! I cannot see him anywhere!" she cried, "and I never somuch as heard them go! Joan, I am going to find him. He should not havegone away without bidding me goodbye! It was cruel!"

  She flashed out of the room, and without waiting for tiring maid orcoverture, she ran downstairs, dressed as she was in her light summerattire.

  Joan stood a moment silent, looking after her with eyes in which flasheda tender light. Werner von Orseln smiled broadly--the dry smile of anancient war-captain who puts no bounds to the vagaries of women. It wasan experienced smile.

  "'Tis well for Kernsberg, my lady," said Werner grimly, "that you arenot the Princess Margaret."

  "And why!" said Joan a little haughtily. For she did not like Conrad'ssister to be treated lightly even by her chief captain.

  "Ah, love--love," said Werner, nodding his head sententiously. "It iswell, my lady, that I ever trained you up to care for none of thesethings. Teach a maid to fence, and her honour needs no champion. Giveher sword-cunning and you keep her from making a fool of herself aboutthe first man who crosses her path. Strengthen her wrist, teach her tolunge and parry, and you strengthen her head. But you do credit to_your_ instructor. You have never troubled about the follies of love.Therefore are you our own Joan of the Sword Hand!"

  Joan sighed another sigh, very softly this time, and her eyes, beingturned away from Von Orseln, were soft and indefinitely hazy.

  "Yes," she answered, "I am Joan of the Sword Hand, and I never think ofthese things!"

  "Of course not," he cried cheerfully; "why should you? Ah, if only thePrincess Margaret had had an ancient Werner von Orseln to teach her howto drill a hole in a fluttering jackanapes! Then we would have had lessof this meauling apron-string business!"

  "Silence," said Joan quickly. "She is here."

  And the Princess came running in with joy in her face. InstinctivelyWerner drew back into the shadow of the window curtain, and the smile onhis face grew more grimly experienced than ever.

  "Oh, Joan," cried the Princess breathlessly, "he had not really gone offwithout bidding me goodbye. You remember I said that I could not believeit of him, and you see I was right. One cannot be mistaken about one'shusband!"

  "No?" said Joan interrogatively.

  "Never--so long as he loves you, that is!" said Margaret, breathlesswith her haste; "but when you really love any one, you cannot helpgetting anxious about them. And then Ivan or Louis might have sent someone to carry him off again to tear him to pieces. Oh, Joan, you cannotknow all I suffered. You must be patient with me. I think it was seeinghim bound and about to die that has made me like this!"

  "Margaret!"

  Joan went quickly towards her friend, touched with compunction for herlack of sympathy, and resolved to comfort her if she could. It was true,after all, that while she and Conrad had been happy together on IsleRugen, this girl had been suffering.

  Margaret came towards her, smiling through her tears.

  "But I have thought of something," she said, brightening still more;"such a splendid plan. I know Maurice would not want to go away whenthere was fighting--though I believe, if I had him by himself for anhour, I could persuade him even to that, for my sake."

  A stifled grunt came from behind the curtains, which represented theinjury done to the feelings of Werner von Orseln by such unworthysentiments.

  The Princess looked over in the direction of the sound, but could seenothing. Joan moved quietly round, so that her friend's back was towardsthe window, behind the curtains of which stood the war captain.

  "This is my thought," the Princess went on more calmly. "Do you, Joan,send Maurice on an embassy to Plassenburg till this trouble is over.Then he will be safe. I will find means of keeping him there----"

  A stifled groan of rage came from the window. Margaret turned sharplyabout.

  "What is that?" she cried, taking hold of her skirts, as the habit ofwomen is.

  "Some one without in the courtyard," said Joan hastily; "a dog, a cat, arat in the wainscot--anything!"

  "It sounded like something," answered the Princess, "but surely not likeanything! Let us look."

  "Margaret," said Joan, gently taking her by the arm and walking with hertowards the door, "Maurice von Lynar is a soldier and a soldier's son.You would break his heart if you took him away from his duty. He wouldnot love you the same; you would not love him the same."

  "Oh, yes, I would," said Margaret, showing signs that her sorrow mightbreak out afresh. "I would love him more for taking care of his life formy sake!"

  "You know you would not, Margaret," Joan persisted. "No woman can trulyand fully love a man whom she is not proud of."

  "Joan indignantly drew the curtain aside." [_Page 323_]]

  "Oh, that is before they are married!" cried the Princess indignantly."Afterwards it is different. You find out things then--and love them allthe same. But, of course, how should I expect you to help me? You havenever loved; you do not understand!" And, without another word, Margaretof Courtland, who had once been so heart-free and _debonnaire_, went outsobbing like a fretted child. Hardly had the door closed upon her whenthe sound of stifled laughter broke from the window-seat. Joanindignantly drew the curtains aside and revealed Werner von Orselnshaking all over and vainly striving to govern his mirth with his handspressed against his sides.

  At sight of the face of his mistress, which was very grave, and evenstern, his laughter instantly shut itself off. As it seemed, with asingle movement, he raised himself to his feet and saluted. Joan stoodlooking at him a moment without speech.

  "Your mirth is exceedingly ill-timed," she said slowly. "On a futureoccasion, pray remember that the Lady Margaret is a Princess and myfriend. You can go! We ride out to-morrow morning at five. See thateverything is arranged."

  Once more Von Orseln saluted, with a face expressionless as a stone. Hemarched to the door, turned and saluted a third time, and with heavyfootsteps descended the stairs communing with himself as he went.

  "That was salt, Werner. Faith, but she gave you the back of thesword-hand that time, old kerl! Yet, 'twas most wondrous humorsome. Ha!ha! But I must not laugh--at least, not here, for if she catches me theKernsbergers will want a new chief captain. Ha! ha! No, I will notlaugh. Werner, you old fool, be quiet! God's grace, but she looked rightroyal! It is worth a dressing down to see her in a rage. Faith, I wouldrather face a regiment of Muscovites single-handed than cross our Joanin one of her tantrums!"

  He was now at the outer door. Prince Conrad was dismounting. The two mensaluted each other.

  "Is the Duchess Joan within?" said Conrad, concealing his eagernessunder the hauteur natural to a Prince.

  "I have just left her!" answered the chief captain.

  Without a word Conrad sprang up the steps three at a time. Werner turnedabout and watched the young man's firm lithe figure till it haddisappeared.

  "Faith of Saint Anthony!" he murmured, "I am right glad our lady caresnot for love. If she did, and if you had not been a priest--well, theremight have been trouble."