CHAPTER LI
THERESA'S TREACHERY
That night the whole city of Courtland cowered in fear before itstriumphant enemy. At the nearest posts the Muscovites were in greatstrength, and the sight of their burnings fretted the souls of thecitizens on guard. Some came near enough to cry insults up to thedefenders.
"You would not have your own true Prince. Now ye shall have ours. Wewill see how you like the exchange!"
This was the cry of some renegade Courtlander, or of a Muscovite learned(as ofttimes they are) in the speech of the West.
But within the walls and at the gates the men of Kernsberg andHohenstein rubbed their hands and nudged each other.
"Brisk lads," one said, "let us make our wills and send them by pigeonpost. I am leaving Gretchen my Book of Prayers, my Lives of the Saints,my rosary, and my belt pounced with golden eye-holes----"
"Methinks that last will do thy Gretchen most service," said hiscompanion, "since the others have gone to the vintner's long ago!"
* * * * *
"Thou art the greater knave to say so," retorted his companion; "and ifby God's grace we come safe out of this I will break thy head for thyroguery!"
The Muscovites had dragged the captured cannon in front of thePlassenburg Gate, and now they fired occasionally, mostly great ballsof quarried stone, but afterward, as the day wore later, any piece ofmetal or rock they could find. And the crash of wooden galleries andstone machicolations followed, together with the scuttling of theCourtland levies from the post of danger. A few of the younger citizens,indeed, were staunch, but for the most part the Plassenburgers andKernsbergers were left to bite their lips and confide to each other whattheir Prince Hugo or their Joan of the Hand Sword would have done tobring such cowards to reason and right discipline.
"An it were not for our own borders and that brave priest-prince, noshaveling he," they said, "faith, such curs were best left to theMuscovite. The plet and the knout were made for such as they!"
"Not so," said he who had maligned Gretchen; "the Courtlanders areyea-for-soothing knaves, truly; but they are Germans, and need only toknow they must, to be brave enough. One or two of our Karl's hostelries,with thirteen lodgings on either side, every guest upright and a-swingby the neck--these would make of the Courtlanders as good soldiers asthyself, Hans Finck!"
But at that moment came Captain Boris by and rebuked them sharply forthe loudness of their speech. It was approaching ten of the clock. Borisand Jorian had already visited all the posts, and were now ready to maketheir venture with Theresa von Lynar.
"No fools like old fools!" grumbled Jorian sententiously, as he buckledon his carinated breastplate, that could shed aside bolts, quarrels, andeven bullets from powder guns as the prow of a vessel sheds the waves toeither side in a good northerly wind.
"'Tis you should know," retorted Boris, "being both old and a fool."
"A man is known by the company he keeps!" answered Jorian, adjusting thelining of his steel cap, which was somewhat in disarray after the battleof the morning.
"Ah!" sighed his companion. "I would that I had the choosing of thecompany I am to keep this night!"
"And I!" assented Jorian, looking solemn for once as he thought ofpretty Martha Pappenheim.
"Well, we do it from a good motive," said Boris; "that is one comfort.And if we lose our lives, Prince Conrad will order many masses (theywill need to be very many) for your soul's peace and good quittance frompurgatory!"
"Humph!" said Jorian, as if he did not see much comfort in that, "Iwould rather have a box on the ear from Martha Pappenheim than all thematins of all the priests that ever sung laud!"
"Canst have that and welcome--if her sister will do as well!" criedAnna, as the two men went out into the long passage. And she suited thedeed to the word.
"Oh! I have hurt my hand against that hard helmet. It serves me rightfor listening! Marthe!"--she looked about for her sister before turningto the soldiers--"see, I have hurt my hand," she added.
Then she made the tears well up in her eyes by an art of the tongue inthe throat she had.
"Kiss it well, Marthe!" she said, looking up at her sister as she camealong the passage swinging a lantern as carelessly as if there were nota Muscovite in the world.
But Boris forestalled the newcomer and caught up the small white hand inthe soft leathern grip of his palm where the ring-mail stopped.
"_I_ will do that better than any sister!" he said.
"That, indeed, you cannot; for only the kiss of love can make a hurtbetter!"
Anna glanced up at him with wet eyes, a little maid full of innocenceand simplicity. Most certainly she was all unconscious of the danger inwhich she was putting herself.
"Well, then, I love you!" said Boris, who did his wooing plainly.
And did not kiss her hand.
Meanwhile the others had wandered to the end of the passage and nowstood at the turnpike staircase, the light of Martha Pappenheim'slantern making a dim haze of light about them.
Anna looked at Boris as often as she could.
"You really love me?" she questioned. "No, you cannot; you have known metoo brief a time. Besides, this is no time to speak of love, with theenemy at the gates!"
"Tush!" said Boris, with the roughness which Anna had looked for in vainamong all the youth of Courtland. "I tell you, girl, it is the time. Youand I are no Courtlanders, God be thanked! In a little while I shallride back to Plassenburg, which is a place where men live. I shall notgo alone. You, little Anna, shall come, too!"
"You are not deceiving me?" she murmured, looking up upon occasion."There is none at Plassenburg whom you love at all?"
"I have never loved any woman but you!" said Boris, settling hisconscience by adding mentally, "though I may have thought I did when Itold them so."
"Nor I any man!" said Anna, softly meditative, making, however, asimilar addition.
Thus Greek met Greek, and both were very happy in the belief that theirown was the only mental reservation.
"But you are going out?" pouted Anna, after a while. "Why cannot youstay in the Castle to-night?"
"To-night of all nights it is impossible," said Boris. "We must make therounds and see that the gates are guarded. The safety of the city is inour hands."
"You are sure that you will not run into any danger!" said Annaanxiously. She remembered a certain precariousness of tenure among someof her previous--mental reservations. There was Fritz Wuench, who hadlaughed at the red beard of a Prussian baron; Wilhelm of Bautzen, whowent once too often on a foray with his uncle, Fighting Max ofCastelnau----
For answer the staunch war-captain kissed her, and the girl clung to herlover, this time in real tears. Martha's candle had gone out, and thetwo had perforce to go down the stair in the dark. They reached the footat last.
"None of them were quite like him," she owned that night to her sister."He takes you up as if he would break you in his arms. And he could,too. It is good to feel!"
"Jorian also is just like that--so satisfactory!" answered Martha. Whichshows the use Jorian must have made of his time at the stairhead, andwhy Martha Pappenheim's light went out.
"He swears he has never loved any woman before."
"Jorian does just the same."
"I suppose we must never tell them----"
"Marthe--if you should dare, I will---- Besides, you were just as bad!"
"Anna, as if I would dream of such a thing!"
And the two innocents fell into each other's arms and embraced after themanner of women, each in her own heart thinking how much she preferred"the way of a man with a maid"--at least that form of it cultivated bystout war-captains of Plassenburg.
Without, Boris and Jorian trampled along through a furious gusting ofBaltic rain, which came in driving sheets from the north and splashedits thumb-board drops equally upon the red roofs of Courtland, thetented Muscovites drinking victory, and upon the dead men lying afield.Worse still, it fell on many wounded, and to s
uch even the thrust of thethievish camp-follower's tolle-knife was merciful. Never could monksmore fitly have chanted, "Blessed are the dead!" than concerning thosewho lay stiff and unconscious on the field where they had fought, towhose ears the Alla sang in vain.
Attired in her cloak of blue, with the hood pulled low over her face,Theresa von Lynar was waiting for Boris and Jorian at the door of themarket-hospital.
"I thank you for your fidelity," she said quickly. "I have sore need ofyou. I put a great secret into your hands. I could not ask one of thefollowers of Prince Conrad, nor yet a soldier of the Duchess Joan, lestwhen that is done which shall be done to-night the Prince or the Duchessshould be held blameworthy, having most to gain or lose thereto. But youare of Plassenburg and will bear me witness!"
Boris and Jorian silently signified their obedience and readiness toserve her. Then she gave them their instructions.
"You will conduct me past the city guards, out through the gates, andtake me towards the camp of the Prince of Muscovy. There you will leaveme, and I shall be met by one who in like manner will lead me throughthe enemy's posts."
"And when will you return, my Lady Theresa? We shall wait for you!"
"Thank you, gentlemen. You need not wait. I shall not return!"
"Not return?" cried Jorian and Boris together, greatly astonished.
"No," said Theresa very slowly and quietly, her eyes set on thedarkness. "Hear ye, Captains of Plassenburg--I will give you my mind.You are trusty men, and can, as I have proved, hold your own counsel."
Boris and Jorian nodded. There was no difficulty about that.
"Good!" they said together as of old.
As they grew older it became more and more easy to be silent. Silencehad always been easier to them than speech, and the habit clave to themeven when they were in love.
"Listen, then," Theresa went on. "You know, and I know, that unlessquick succour come, the city is doomed. You are men and soldiers, andwhether ye make an end amid the din of battle, or escape for this time,is a matter wherewith ye do not trouble your minds till the time comes.But for me, be it known to you that I am the widow of Henry the Lion ofKernsberg. My son Maurice is the true heir to the Dukedom. Yet, beingbound by an oath sworn to the man who made me his wife, I have neverclaimed the throne for him. But now Joan his sister knows, and out ofher great heart she swears that she will give up the Duchy to him. If,therefore, the city is taken, the Muscovite will slay my son, slay himby their hellish tortures, as they have sworn to do for the despite heput upon Prince Ivan. And his wife, the Princess Margaret, will die ofgrief when they carry her to Moscow to make a bride out of a widow. Joanwill be a prisoner, Conrad either dead or a priest, and Kernsberg, theheritage of Henry the Lion, a fief of the Czar. There is no help in any.Your Prince would succour, but it takes time to raise the country, andlong ere he can cross the frontier the Russian will have worked his willin Courtland. Now I see a way--a woman's way. And if I fall in the doingof it, well--I but go to meet him for the sake of whose children Ifreely give my life. In this bear me witness."
"Madam," said Boris, gravely, "we are but plain soldiers. We pretend notto understand the great matters of State of which you speak. But restassured that we will serve you with our lives, bear true witness, and inall things obey your word implicitly."
Without difficulty they passed through the streets and warded gates.Werner von Orseln, indeed, tramping the inner rounds, cried "Whitheraway?" Then, seeing the lady cloaked between them, he added after hismanner, "By my faith, you Plassenburgers beat the world. Hang me to agooseberry bush if I do not tell Anna Pappenheim of it ere to-morrow'ssunset. As I know, she will forgive inconstancy only in herself!"
They plunged into the darkness of the outer night. As soon as they werebeyond the gates the wind drave past them hissing level. The black treesroared overhead. At first in the swirl of the storm the three could seenothing; but gradually the watchfires of the Muscovite came outthicksown like stars along the rising grounds on both sides of the Alla.Boris strode on ahead, peering anxiously into the night, and a littlebehind Jorian gave Theresa his hand over the rough and uneven ground. Apair of ranging stragglers, vultures that accompany the advance of allgreat armies, came near and examined the party, but retreated promptlyas they caught the glint of the firelight upon the armour of thewar-captains. Presently they began to descend into the valley, theiron-shod feet of the men clinking upon the stones. Theresa walkedsilently, steeped in thought, laying a hand on arm or shoulder as shehad occasion. Suddenly tall Boris stopped dead and with a sweep of hisarm halted the others.
"There!" he whispered, pointing upward.
And against the glow thrown from behind a ridge they could see a pair ofCossacks riding to and fro ceaselessly, dark against the ruddy sky.
"Gott, would that I had my arbalist! I could put gimlet holes in theseknaves!" whispered Jorian over Boris's shoulder.
"Hush!" muttered Boris; "it is lucky for Martha Pappenheim that you leftit at home!"
"Captains Boris and Jorian," Theresa was speaking with quietness,raising her voice just enough to make herself heard over the roar of thewind overhead, for the nook in which they presently found themselves wassheltered, "I bid you adieu--it may be farewell. You have done nobly andlike two valiant captains who were fit to war with Henry the Lion. Ithank you. You will bear me faithful witness in the things of which Ihave spoken to you. Take this ring from me, not in recompense, but inmemory. It is a bauble worth any lady's acceptance. And you thisdagger." She took two from within her mantle, and gave one to Jorian."It is good steel and will not fail you. The fellow of it I will keep!"
She motioned them backward with her hand.
"Abide there among the bushes till you see a man come out to meet me.Then depart, and till you have good reason keep the last secret ofTheresa, wife of Henry the Lion, Duke of Kernsberg and Hohenstein!"
Boris and Jorian bowed themselves as low as the straitness of theirarmour would permit.
"We thank you, madam," they said; "as you have commanded, so will wedo!"
And as they had been bidden they withdrew into a clump of willow andalder whose leaves clashed together and snapped like whips in the wind.
"Yonder woman is braver than you or I, Jorian," said Boris, as crouchingthey watched her climb the ridge. "Which of us would do as much for anyon the earth?"
"After all, it is for her son. If you had children, who can say----?"
"Whether I may have children or no concerns you not," returned Boris,who seemed unaccountably ruffled. "I only know that I would not throwaway my life for a baker's dozen of them!"
Upon the skyline Theresa von Lynar stood a moment looking backward tomake sure that her late escort was hidden. Then she took a whistle fromher gown and blew upon it shrilly in a lull of the storm. At the soundthe war-captains could see the Cossacks drop their lances and pause intheir unwearying ride. They appeared to listen eagerly, and upon thewhistle being repeated one of them threw up a hand. Then between themand on foot the watchers saw another man stand, a dark shadow againstthe watchfires. The sentinels leaned down to speak with him, and then,lifting their lances, they permitted him to pass between them. He was atall man, clad in a long caftan which flapped about his feet, asheepskin posteen or winter jacket, and a round cap of fur, high-crownedand flat-topped, upon his head.
He came straight towards Theresa as if he expected a visitor.
The two men in hiding saw him take her hand as a host might that of anhonoured guest, kiss it reverently, and then lead her up the little hillto where the sentinels waited motionless on their horses. So soon as thepair had passed within the lines, their figures and the Cossack salutemomentarily silhouetted against the watchfires, the twin horsemenresumed their monotonous ride.
By this time Jorian's head was above the bushes and his eyes stood wellnigh out of his head.
"Down, fool!" growled Boris, taking him by the legs and pulling himflat; "the Cossacks will see you!"
"Boris," gasped Jorian, who h
ad descended so rapidly that the fall andthe weight of his plate had driven the wind out of him, "I know thatfellow. I have seen him before. It is Prince Wasp's physician, Alexisthe Deacon. I remember him in Courtland when first we came thither!"
"Well, and what of that?" grunted Boris, staring at the little detachedtongues of willow-leaf flame which were blown upward from the Muscovitewatchfires.
"What of that, man?" retorted Boris. "Why, only this. We have beenduped. She was a traitress, after all. This has been planned a longwhile."
"Traitress or saint, it is none of our business," said Boris grimly. "Wehad better get ourselves within the walls of Courtland, and say nothingto any of this night's work!"
"At any rate," added the long man as an afterthought, "I have the ring.It will be a rare gift for Anna."
Jorian looked ruefully at his dagger, holding it between the rustlingalder leaves, so as to catch the light from the watchfires. The red glowfell on a jewel in the hilt.
"'Tis a pretty toy enough, but how can I give that to Marthe? It is nota fit keepsake for a lady!"
"Well," said Boris, suddenly appeased, "I will swop you for it. I am notso sure that my pretty spitfire would not rather have it than any ring Icould give her. Shall we exchange?"
"But we promised to keep them as souvenirs?" urged Jorian, whoseconscience smote him slightly. "One does not tell lies to a lady--atleast where one can help it."
"It depends upon the lady!" said Boris practically. "You can tell yourMarthe the truth. I will please myself with Anna. Hand over the dagger."
So wholly devoid of sentiment are war-captains when they deal withkeepsakes.
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