EPILOGUE OF EXPLICATION
It was the morning of a white day. The princely banner flew from everytower in Castle Kernsberg, for that day it was to lose a duchess andgain a duke. It was Joan's second wedding-day--the day of her firstmarriage.
Never had the little hill town seen so brave a gathering since thenorthern princes laid Henry the Lion in his grave. In the great vaultwhere he slept there was a new tomb, a plain marble slab with theinscription--
"THERESA, WIFE OF HENRY, DUKE OF KERNSBERG AND HOHENSTEIN."
And underneath, and in Latin, the words--
"AFTER THE TEMPEST, PEACE!"
For strangely enough, by the wonder of Providence or some freak of theexploding powder, they had found Theresa fallen where she had stood,blackened indeed but scarce marred in face or figure. So from thatburnt-out hell they had brought her here that at the last she might restnear the man whom her soul loved.
And as they moved away and left her, little Johannes Rode, the scholar,murmured the words, "_Post tempestatem, tranquillitas!_"
Prince Conrad heard him, and he it was who had them engraven on hertomb.
But on this morning of gladness only Joan thought of the dead woman.
"To-day I will do the thing she wished," the Duchess thought, as shelooked from the window towards her father's tomb. "She would takenothing for herself, yet shall her son sit in my place and rule wherehis father ruled. I am glad!"
Here she blushed.
"Yet, why should I vaunt? It is no sacrifice, for I shall be--what Iwould rather a thousand times be. Small thanks, then, that I give upfreely what is worth nothing to me now!"
And with the arm that had wielded a sword so often and so valiantly,Joan the bride went on arraying her hair and making her beautiful forthe eyes of her lord.
"My lord!" she said, and again with a different accent. "_My_ lord!"
And when these her living eyes met those others in the Venice mirror,lo! either pair was smiling a new smile.
* * * * *
Meantime, beneath in her chamber, the Princess Margaret was making herhusband's life a burden to him, or rather, first quarrelling with himand the next moment throwing her arms about his neck in a passion ofremorse. For that is the wont of dainty Princess Margarets who are sickand know not yet what aileth them.
"Maurice," she was saying, "is it not enough to make me throw me overthe battlements that they should all forsake me, on this day of allothers, when you are to be made a Duke in the presence of the Pope'sLegate and the Emperor's _Alter_--what is it?--_Alter ego?_ What a sillyword! And you might have told it to me prettily and without laughing atme. Yes, you did, and you also are in league against me. And I will notgo to the wedding; no, not if Joan were to beg of me on my knees! I willnot have any of these minxes in to do my hair. Nay, do not you touch it.I am nobody, it seems, and Joan everything. Joan--Joan! It is Joan thisand Joan that! Tush, I am sick of your Joans.
"She gives up the duchy to us--well, that is no great gift. She isgetting Courtland for it, and my brother. Even he will not love me anymore. Conrad is like the rest. He eats, drinks, sleeps, wakes, talksJoan. He is silent, and thinks Joan. So, I believe, do you. You are onlysorry that she did not love you best!
"Well, if you _are_ her brother, I do not care. Who was speaking aboutmarrying her? And, at any rate, you did not know she was your sister.You might very well have loved her. And I believe you did. You do notlove me, at all events. _That_ I do know!
"No, I will not 'hush,' nor will I come upon your knee and be petted. Iam not a baby! '_What is the matter betwixt me and the maidens?_' If youhad let me explain I would have told you long ago. But I never getspeaking a word. I am not crying, and I shall cry if I choose. Oh yes, Iwill tell you, Duke Maurice, if you care to hear, why I am angry withthe maids. Well, then, first it was that Anna Pappenheim. She tugged myhair out by the roots in handfuls, and when I scolded her I saw therewere tears in her eyes. I asked her why, and for long she would not tellme. Then all at once she acknowledged that she had promised to marrythat great overgrown chimney-pot, Captain Boris, and must hie her toPlassenburg, if I pleased. I did not please, and when I said that surelyMarthe was not so foolish thus to throw herself away, the wretchedMarthe came bawling and wringing hands, and owned that she was in likecase with Jorian.
"So I sent them out very quickly, being justly angry that they shouldthus desert me. And I called for Thora of Bornholm, and began easing mymind concerning their ingratitude, when the Swede said calmly, 'I fearme, madam, I am not able to find any fault with Anna and Martha. For Iam even as they, or worse. I have been married for over six months.'
"'And to whom?' I cried; 'tell me, and he shall hang as surely as I am aPrincess of Courtland.' For I was somewhat disturbed.
"'To-day your Highness is Duchess of Kernsberg,' said the minx, ascalmly as if at sacrament. 'My husband's name is Johannes Rode!'
"And when I have told you, instead of being sorry for me, you do nothingbut laugh. I will indeed fling me over the window!"
And the fiery little Princess ran to the window and pretended to castherself headlong. But her husband did not move. He stood leaning againstthe mantelshelf and smiling at her quietly and lovingly.
Hearing no rush of anxious feet, and finding no restraining arm castabout her, Margaret turned, and with fresh fire in her gesture stampedher foot at Maurice.
"That just proves it! Little do you care whether or no I kill myself.You wish I would, so that you might marry somebody else. You dare notdeny it!"
Maurice knew better than to deny it, nor did he move till the Princesscast herself down on the coverlet and sobbed her heart out, with herface on the pillow and her hair spraying in linked tendrils about herwhite neck and shoulders. Then he went gently to her and laid his handon her head, regardless of the petulant shrug of her shoulders as hetouched her. He gathered her up and sat down with her in his arms.
"Little one," he said, "I want you to be good. This is a great and aglad day. To-day my sister finds the happiness that you and I havefound. To-day I am to sit in my father's seat and to have henceforth myown name among men. You must help me. Will you, little one? For thisonce let me be your tire-woman. I have often done my own tiring when, inold days, I dared death in women's garments for your sweet sake.Dearest, do not hurt my heart any more, but help me."
His wife smiled suddenly through her tears, and cast her arms about hisneck.
"Oh, I am bad--bad--bad," she cried vehemently. "It were no wonder ifyou did not love me. But do keep loving me. I should die else. I will bebetter--I will--I will! I do not know why I should be so bad. SometimesI think I cannot help it."
But Maurice kissed her and smiled as if he knew.
"We will live like plain and honest country folk, you and I," he said."Let Anna and Martha follow their war-captains. Thora at least willremain with us, and we will make Johannes Rode our almoner and courtpoet. Now smile at me, little one! Ah, that is better."
In Margaret's April eyes the sun shone out again, and she clung lovinglyto her husband a long moment before she would let him go.
Then she thrust him a little away from her, that she might see his face,as she asked the question of all loving and tempestuous PrincessMargarets, "Are you sure you love me just the same, even when I amnaughty?"
Maurice was sure.
And taking his face between her hands in a fierce little clutch, sheasked a further assurance. "Are you quite, quite sure?" she said.
And Maurice was quite, quite sure.
* * * * *
Not in a vast and solemn cathedral was Joan married, but in the oldchurch of Kernsberg, which had so often raised the protest of the Churchagainst the exactions of her ancestors. The bridal escort was of her owntried soldiery, now to be hers no more, and all of them a little sad forthat. Hugo and Helene of Plassenburg had come--Hugo because he was therepresentative of the Emperor, and Hel
ene because she was a sweet andloving woman who delighted to rejoice in another's joy.
With these also arrived, and with these was to depart, the dark-facedstern young cardinal of San Pietro in Vincoli. He must have good escort,he said, for he carried many precious relics and tokens of the affectionof the faithful for the Church's Head. The simple priesthood ofKernsberg shrank from his fiery glances, and were glad when he was gone.But, save at the hour of bridal itself, he spent all his time with thetreasurer of the Princedom of Courtland.
When at last they came down the aisle together, and the sweet-voicedchoristers sang, and the white-robed maidens scattered flowers for theirfeet to walk upon, the bride found opportunity to whisper to herhusband, "I fear me I shall never be Joan of the Sword Hand any more!"
He smiled back at her as they came out upon the tears and laughter andacclaim of the many-coloured throng that filled the little square.
"Be never afraid, beloved," he said, and his eyes were very glad andproud, "only be Joan to me, and I will be your Sword Hand!"
THE END
The Gresham Press, UNWIN BROTHERS, WOKING AND LONDON.
Joan of the Sword Hand Page 55