Under the Rose

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE DEBT OF NATURE

  Although the daughter of the constable received every attentioncommensurate with the cheer of the camp, the day passed but slowly.With more or less interest she viewed the diversified group ofsoldiers, drawn by Charles from the various countries over which heruled: the brawny troops from Flanders; the alert-looking guards,recruited from the mountains of Spain; the men of Friedwald, withmuscles tough as the fibers of the fir in their native forests. Eventhe Orient--suggestive of many campaigns!--had been drawn upon, and thebright-garbed olive-skinned attendants, moving among the tents ofpurple or crimson, blended picturesquely with the more solid masses ofcolor.

  For the Flemish soldiery, who had brought the fool and herself to thecamp, the young girl had a nod and a word, but it was the men ofFriedwald who especially attracted her attention, and unconsciously shefound herself picturing the land that had fostered this stalwart andrough soldiery. A rocky, rugged region, surely; with vast forests,unbroken brush! Yonder armorer, polishing a joint of steel, seemedlike a survivor of that primeval epoch when the trees were roofs andthe ground the universal bed. Once or twice she passed him, curiouslynoting his great beard and giant-like limbs. But he minded her not,and this, perhaps, gave her courage to pause.

  "What sort of country is Friedwald?" she said, abruptly.

  "Wild," he answered.

  "Is the duke liked?" she went on.

  "Yes."

  "Do you know his--jester?"

  "No."

  For all the information he would volunteer, the man might have beenDoctor Rabelais' model for laconicism, and a moment she stood therewith a slight frown. Then she gazed at him meditatively; tap! tap!went the tiny hammer in the mighty hand, and, laughing softly, sheturned. These men of Friedwald were not unpleasing in her eyes.

  Twice had she approached the tent wherein lay the fool, only to learnthat the emperor was with the duke's _plaisant_. "A slight relapse offever," had said the Italian leech, as he blocked the entrance andstared at her with wicked, twinkling eyes. She need be under noapprehension, he had added; but to her quick fancy his glance said: "Amaid wandering with a fool!"

  Apprehension? No; it could not be that she felt but a new sense ofloneliness; of that isolation which contact with strange facesemphasized. What had come over her? she asked herself. She who hadbeen so self-sufficient; whose nature now seemed filled with suddenyearnings and restlessness, impatience--she knew not what. She whothought she had partaken so abundantly of life's cup abruptlydiscovered renewed sources for disquietude. With welling heart shewatched the sun go down; the glory of the widely-radiating hues giveway to the pall of night. Upon her young shoulders the mantle ofdarkness seemed to rest so heavily she bowed her head in her hands.

  "A maid and a fool! Ah, foolish maid!" whispered the wanton breeze.

  The pale light of the stars played upon her, and the dews fell, untilinvoluntarily shivering with the cold, she arose. As she walked by theemperor's quarters she noticed a figure silhouetted on the canvaswalls; to and fro the shadow moved, shapeless, grotesque, yet eloquentof life's vexation of spirit. Turning into her own tent, the jestresslighted the wick of a silver lamp; a faint aroma of perfume sweptthrough the air. It seemed to soothe her--or was it butweariness?--and shortly she threw herself on the silken couch and sankto dreamless slumber.

  When she awoke, the bright-hued dome of the tent was aglow in themorning sun; the reflected radiance bathed her face and form; herheaviness of heart had taken wings. The little lamp was still burning,but the fresh fragrance of dawn had replaced the subtile odor of theoriental essence. Upon the rug a single streak of sunshine wascreeping toward her. In the brazier which had warmed her tent theglowing bark and cinnamon had turned to cold, white ash.

  Through the girl's veins the blood coursed rapidly; a few moments shelay in the rosy effulgence, restfully conscious that danger had fledand that she was bulwarked by the emperor's favor, when a suddenthought broke upon this half-wakeful mood, and caused her to spring,all alert, from her couch. To dress, with her had never been a matterof great duration. The hair of the joculatrix naturally rippled intosuch waves as were the envy of the court ladies; her supple fingersadjusted garment after garment with swift precision, while her figureneeded no device to lend grace to the investment.

  Soon, therefore, had she left her tent, making her way through theawakening camp. In the royal kitchen the cook was bending over hisfires, while an assistant mixed a beverage of barley-water, yolks ofeggs and senna wine for Charles when he should become aroused. Thosecourtiers, already astir, cast many glances in the girl's direction, asshe moved toward the tent of the fool.

  But if these gallants were sedulous, she was correspondinglyindifferent. Anxiety or loyalty--that stanchness of heart which bravedeven the ironical eyes of the black-robed master of medicine--drove heragain to the ailing jester's tent, and, remembering how she had riddeninto camp--and into the august emperor's favor--these fondlings offortune looked significantly from one to the other.

  "A jot less fever, solicitous maid," said the leech in answer to theinquiries of the jestress, and she endured the glance for the news,although the former sent her away with her face aflame.

  "An the leech let her in, he'd soon have to let the patient out," spokeup a gallant. "Her eyes are a sovereign remedy, where bolus, pills andall vile potions might fail."

  "If this be a sample of Francis' damsels, I care not how long we are inreaching the Low Countries," answered a second.

  To this the first replied in kind, but soon had these gallants mattersof more serious moment to divert them, for it began to be whisperedabout that Louis of Hochfels had determined to push forward. Theunwonted activity in the camp ere long gave credence to the rumor; thetroopers commenced looking to their weapons; squires hurried here andthere, while near the tents stood the horses, saddled and bridled,undergoing the scrutiny of the grooms.

  Some time, however, elapsed before the emperor himself appeared.Nothing in the bead-roll, or devotional offering of the morning, had heoverlooked; the divers dishes that followed had been scrupulouslypartaken of, and then only--as a man not to be hurried from the altaror the table--had he emerged from his tent. His glance mechanicallyswept the camp, noting the bustle and stir, the absence of disorder,and finally rested on the girl. For a moment, from his look, it seemedhe might have forgotten her, and she who had involuntarily turned tohim so solicitously, on a sudden felt chilled, as confronted by a mask.His voice, when at length he spoke, was hard, dry, matter-of-fact, andit was Jacqueline whom he addressed.

  "You slept well?"

  "Yes, Sire," she answered.

  "And have already been to the fool's tent, I doubt not."

  The mask became half-quizzical, half-friendly, as her cheeks mantledbeneath his regard. Was it but quiet avengement against a jestresswhose tongue had been unsparing enough, even to him, the day before?Certes, here stood now only a rosy maid, robbed of her spirit; or a_folle_, struck witless, and Charles' face softened, but immediatelygrew stern, as his mind abruptly passed from wandering jestress andfleeing fool to matters of more moment.

  Under vow to the Virgin, the emperor had announced he would not drawsword himself that day, but, seated beneath a canopy of velvet,overlooking the valley, he so far compromised with conscience aspersonally to direct the preparations for the conflict. On his sablethrone, surrounded by funereal hangings, how white and furrowed, howharassed with many cares, he appeared in the glare of the morn to theyoung girl! Was this he who held nearly all Europe in his palm? whobetween martial commands talked of Holy Orders, the Apostolic See andthe Seven Sacraments to his priestly confessor?

  And from aloof she studied him, with new doubts and misgiving, herthoughts running fast; and anon bent her eyes to the hill on the otherside of the valley. In her condition of mind, confused as before acrisis, it was a distinct relief when toward noon word was brought thatthe free baron was approaching. Soon, not far distan
t, the _cortege_of Louis of Hochfels was seen; at the front, flashing helmets andbreastplates; behind, a cavalcade of ladies on horseback and litters,above which floated many flags and banners.

  Would he come on; would he turn back? Many opinions were rife.

  "Oh," cried a page with golden hair, "there will be no battle afterall."

  And truly, confronted by the aspect of the emperor's camp, the marauderhad at first hesitated; but if the dangers before him were great, thosebehind were greater. Accordingly, leaving the cavalcade of theprincess, her maids and attendants, the free baron of Hochfels,surrounded by his own trusted troops, dashed forward arrogantly intothe valley, bent upon sweeping aside even the opposition of Charleshimself.

  "Yonder's a daring knave, your Majesty," with some perturbationobserved the prelate who stood near the emperor's chair.

  "Certes, he tilts at fame, or death, with a bold lance," repliedCharles. "Would that Robert of Friedwald were there to cry him quits."

  While thus he spoke, as calm as though secluded in one of his monasteryretreats, weighing the affairs of state, nearer and nearer drew thesoldiers of the bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld; roughly calculating, a forcenumerically as strong as the emperor's own guard.

  The young girl, her face now white and drawn, watched the approachingband. Would Charles never give the signal? Imperturbable sat themounted troopers of the emperor, awaiting the word of command. Atlength, when her breath began to come fast and sharp, Charles raisedhis arm. In a solid, steady body, his men swept onward. The girlstrove to look away, but could not.

  Both bands, gaining in momentum, met with a crash. That nice symmetryof form and orderliness of movement was succeeded by a tangle of menand horses; the bristling array of lances had vanished, and swords andweapons for hand-to-hand warfare threw a play of light amid the jumbleof troops and steeds, flags and banners. With sword red from carnage,Louis of Hochfels drew his men around him, hurling them against thefirm front of Charles' veterans. It was the crucial moment; theturning point in a struggle that could not be prolonged, but would berather sharp, short and decisive. If his men failed at the onset, allwas lost; if they gained but a little ascendancy now, their mastery ofthe field became fairly assured. Great would be the reward forsuccess; the fruits of victory--the emperor himself. And savagely thefree baron cut down a stalwart trooper; his blade pierced the throat ofanother.

  "Clear the way to Charles!" he cried, exultantly. "He is our guerdon."

  So terrible that rush, the guard of Spain on the right and the troopsof Flanders on the left began to give way; only the men of Friedwaldstood, but with the breaking of the forces on each side it wasinevitable they, too, must soon be overwhelmed. Involuntarily, as thequick eye of the emperor detected this sign of impending disaster, hehalf-started from his chair. His hand sought his side; in his eyesshone a steely light. The prelate quickly crossed himself and raisedhis head as if in prayer.

  "The penance, Sire," he murmured, but his voice trembled.

  Mechanically Charles replaced his blade. "Yea; better a kingdom lost,"he muttered, "than a broken vow."

  Yet, after so many battles won in the field and Diet; after titaniccontests with kings in Christendom, and Solyman in the east, to fall,by the mockery of fate, into the grasp of a thieving mountain rifler--

  "Ambition! power! we sow but the sand," whispered satiety.

  "Vainglory is a sleeveless errand," murmured the spirit of theflagellant.

  Yet he gazed half-fiercely at his priestly adviser, when suddenly hisgloomy eye brightened; the inutility of ambition was forgotten;unconsciously he clasped the arm of the joculatrix, who had drawn near.His grip was like a gauntlet; even in her tense, strained mood shewinced.

  "The fight is not yet lost!" he exclaimed. As he spoke the figure of aknight, fully armed, who had made his way through the avenue of tents,was seen swiftly descending the hill. Upon his strong Arabian steed,the rider's appearance and bearing signaled him as a soldier apart fromthe rank and file of the guard. His coat-of-arms, that of the house ofFriedwald, was richly emblazoned upon the housings of his courser.Whence had he come? The attendants and equerries had not seen him inthe camp. Only the taciturn armorer of Friedwald looked complacentlyafter him, stroking his great beard, as one well satisfied. As thislate-comer approached the scene of strife the flanks of the guard werewavering yet more perilously.

  "A miracle, Sire!" cried the prelate.

  "But one that partakes more of earth than Heaven," retorted Charles,with ready irony.

  "Who is he, Sire?" breathlessly asked the young girl. At her feetwhimpered the blue-eyed page, holding to her skirt, all his couragegone.

  But ere he could answer--if he had seen fit to do so--from below, outof the vortex, came the clamorous shouts:

  "The duke! The duke!"

  The master of the mountain pass heard also, and felt at that moment asudden thrill of premonition. The guerdon; the quittance; could it bepossible after all, the end was not far? He could not believe it, yeta paroxysm of fury seized him; his strength became redoubled; whereverhis sword touched a trooper fell.

  But like a wave, recovering from the recoil, the soldiers of Friedwaldbroke upon his doomed band with a force manifold augmented; broke andcarried the flanks with it, for the assaulting parties to the right andleft were dismayed by the strength unexpectedly hurled against thecenter. The bulky Flemish, the lithe Spaniard, the lofty trooper ofFriedwald, overflowed the shattered line of the marauders.

  "Duke Robert!" and "Friedwald!" shouted the Austrian band.

  "Cowards! Would you give way?" cried the free baron, striking amongthem. "Fools! Better the sword than the rope. Come!"

  But in his frenzied efforts to rally his men the master of Hochfelsfound himself face to face with the leader of the already victorioustroops. At the sight of him the bastard paused; his breast rose andfell with his labored breathing; his sword was dyed red, also his arms,his clothes; from his forehead the blood ran down over his beard. Hiseyes rolled like those of an animal; he seemed something inhuman; anincarnation of baffled purpose.

  "If it is reprisal you want, Sir Duke, you shall have it," he panted.

  "Reprisal!" exclaimed Robert of Friedwald, scornfully. "The best youcan offer is your life."

  And with that they closed. Evading the strokes of his more bulkyantagonist, the younger man's sword repeatedly sought the vulnerablepart of the other's armor. The free baron's strength became exhausted;his blows rang harmlessly, or struck the empty air.

  A sensation of pain admonished him of his own disability. About himhis band had melted away; doggedly had they given up their livesbeneath sword, mace and poniard. The ground was strewn with the slain;riderless horses were galloping up the road. The free baron breathedyet harder; before his eyes he seemed to see only blood.

  Of what avail had been his efforts? He had won the princess, but howbrief had been his triumphs! With a belief that was almostsuperstition, he had imagined his destiny lay thronewards. But thecurse of his birth had been a ban to his efforts; the bitterness ofdefeat smote him. He knew he was falling; his nerveless hand loosenedhis blade.

  "I am sped!" he cried; "sped!" and released his hold, while the tide ofconflict appeared abruptly to sweep away.

  As he struck the earth an ornament that he had worn about his neckbecame unfastened and dropped to the ground. But once he moved; toraise himself on his elbow.

  "The hazard of the die!" he muttered, striving to see with eyes thatwere growing blind. A rush of blood interrupted him, he fell back,straightened out, and stirred no more.

  Now had the din of strife ceased altogether, when descending the slopeappeared a cavalcade, at the head of which rode a lady on a whitepalfrey, followed by several maids and guarded by an escort of soldierswho wore the king's own colors. A stricken procession it seemed as itdrew near, the faces of the women white with fear; the gay attire andgorgeous trappings--a mockery on that ensanguined arena.

  Proudly pro
ceeded the lady on the white horse, although in her eyesshone a look of dread. It was an age when women were accustomed toscenes of bloodshed, inured to conflicts in the lists; yet sheshuddered as her palfrey picked its way across that field. At the nearside of the hollow her glance singled out a motionless figure amongthose lying where they had fallen, a thick-set man, whose face wasupturned to the sky. One look into those glassy eyes, so unresponsiveto her own, and she quickly dismounted and fell on her knees beside therecumbent form. She took one of the cold hands in hers, but dropped itwith a scream.

  "Dead!" she cried; "dead!"

  The lady stared at that terribly repulsive face. For some moments sheseemed dazed; sat there dully, the onlookers forbearing to disturb her.Then her gaze encountered that of him who had slain the free baron andshe sprang to her feet. On her features an expression of bewildermenthad been followed by one of recognition.

  "The duke's fool!" she exclaimed wildly. "He is dead, and you havekilled him! The fool has murdered his master."

  "It is true he is dead," answered the other, leaning heavily on hissword and surveying the inanimate form, "but he was no master of mine."

  "That, Madame la Princesse, we will also affirm," broke in an austerevoice.

  Behind them rode the emperor, a dark figure among those bright gownsand golden trappings, the saddle cloth and adornments of his steedsomber as his own garments. As he spoke he waved back the cavalcade,and, in obedience to the gesture, the ladies, soldiers and attendantswithdrew to a discreet distance. Bitterly the princess surveyed themonarch; overwrought, a torrent of reproaches sprang from her lips.

  "Why has your Majesty made war on my lord? Why have you countenancedhis enemies and harbored his murderers?" And then, drawing her figureto its full height, her tawny hair falling in a cloud about hershoulders: "Be sure, Sire, my kinsman, the king, will know how toavenge my wrongs."

  "He can not, Madam," answered Charles coldly. "They are alreadyavenged."

  "Already avenged!" she exclaimed, with her gaze upon the prostratefigure.

  "Yes, Madam. For he who hath injured you has paid the extreme penalty."

  "He who was my husband has been foully murdered!" she retorted,vehemently. "What had the Duke of Friedwald done to bring upon himselfyour Majesty's displeasure?"

  "Nothing," answered the emperor, more gently.

  "Nothing! And yet he lies there--dead!"

  "He who lies before you is not the duke, but Louis of Hochfels, thebastard of Pfalz-Urfeld."

  "Ah," she cried, excitedly, "I see you have been listening to the falsefool, his murderer."

  An expression of annoyance appeared on the emperor's face. He likednot to be crossed at any time by any one.

  "You have well called him the false fool, Madam," said Charles, curtly,"for he is no true fool."

  "And yet he rode with your troops!"

  "To redeem his honor, Madam."

  "His honor!"

  With a scornful face she approached nearer to the monarch.

  "His honor! In God's name, what mean you?"

  "That the false fool, Madam, is himself the Duke of Friedwald!"