The Justice of the King

by Hamilton Drummond

  CHAPTER XXX

  "LOVE IS MY LIFE"

  "Blessed be the man who first invented sleep," said the wise Spaniard.And yet there are times when even a sleepless night can leave a lightheart behind it. For the first time since coming to Amboise Stephen LaMothe felt at peace with himself and with all the world, though thelatter is a secondary consideration. As between the two disturbers ofhis comfort a man's most triumphant foe is his conscience. And he hadgood cause for comfort. When at their very worst, things had gone wellwith him, and as he reckoned up his mercies the morning Paul Beaufoyrode post from Valmy, he found his pouch of life full to the rim withwhite stones.

  First: Ursula! There was a little tremulous contraction of the heart,a little sudden sense of warm sunlight as he said the name over.Ursula--Ursula! What a kindly cunning mother is Fate: she always givesthe one sweet woman in the world the sweetest of names. For where wasthere a sweeter name than Ursula? So soft, so--so--well, just Ursula.Ursula was safe and had forgiven him. Which of these two mercies wasthe greater he hardly knew; the second, perhaps, since it wasundeserved. He was a very humble lover, as all true lovers should bewho realize, with a wondering incomprehension, that in creating womanlast of all the Lord God had concentrated all the wisdom of His sixdays' experience, and even then only consummated the perfection after aseventh day of thoughtful rest. He did not know that the miracle of aloving woman's forgiveness is as common and natural as the sunshine,and, let it be said sorrowfully, as necessary to life.

  And Ursula was safe. For that they had to thank Villon. It was he whohad grasped the flaw of Saxe's over-proof, and so tumbled the wholefabric of lies into a ruin never to be built up again. For both thesemercies he humbly thanked God. It is to be noted by the student of theways of men that he never gave the Dauphin's safety a thought. He hadrisked his life for the boy, and would risk it again if necessary, riskit cheerfully, but as an abstract proposition he cared little whetherthe Dauphin lived or died. Next after Ursula came Commines. There hadbeen a bitter moment when Commines had tottered on his pedestal, butUrsula's hand had steadied him just when the touch was needed. Ursulaagain! It was marvellous how the whole of Amboise had its orbit roundUrsula. In the end Commines had justified himself, and in that beliefthe loyal heart of Stephen La Mothe found the early May sunshine yetmore pleasant and the air sweeter.

  Nor was there now any fear but that he would leave Amboise with cleanhands. The white horse and the piebald were ambling side by side underhis feet, and all danger of a sprawling tumble between them in the mudwas at an end. And because he would leave Amboise with clean hands hecould without shame say to Ursula de Vesc such things as are the sacredtreasures of the heart's Holy of Holies. At least it would not be anunworthy love he had to offer, unworthy of her acceptance, since noman's love could be fully worthy of Ursula de Vesc, but not unworthy initself. But first he had the King's commission to fulfil, and if Louisreally lay dead at Valmy surely he might violate the letter of hisorders and say, "These are the message of a father's love." Or,rather, Ursula came first, always first, even before the King'scommission, and with the thought came Ursula de Vesc herself.

  "Good morning, Monsieur La Mothe."

  "Mademoiselle! you so early?"

  "I do not think many slept in Amboise last night. Did you hear thatTristan's letter was one of your King's merry jests?"

  "But are you certain?"

  "Absolutely. He was seen on the walls just before the closing of thegates last night. You know at Valmy they do not wait for the sun toset. Shall I let you into a secret I would not have told you afortnight ago?" The white night, its long hours haunted by anxiousthoughts, had left a wan reflection on her face, but now the pallorwarmed; into the tired eyes a little light of laughter flickered, parthumorous, part tender, and the Cupid's bow trembled on its string. "InAmboise we are not so forlorn as you think. The innkeeper atChateau-Renaud is our very good friend, or how could we have known thata certain Monsieur Stephen La Mothe, a wandering minstrel with lute andknapsack on his back, was coming our way?"

  "You knew that?"

  "From the first," she answered, still smiling, but with so kindly araillery that not even a lover could take offence. "Did you think youplayed the part so well that you deceived us? Or that the Dauphin hadsunk so low as to make a friend of the first hedge-singer who came hisway? We were warned from Chateau-Renaud that you who arrived withMonsieur d'Argenton on horseback departed alone on foot."

  "That raw-boned roan which passed me on the road?"

  "Yes. And can you wonder if we were suspicious and just a littlefrightened? You were from Valmy and Valmy is our Galilee: nothing goodcomes out of it."

  "I wonder at nothing but your goodness in bearing with me."

  "You owe us nothing for that. That," the colour mounted to herforehead; she, too, had grown ashamed of the first night, ashamed andastonished that she had not understood Stephen La Mothe's transparentgood faith from the very first, "that was precaution. In the Chateauwe could watch the watcher. Then you began that fairy tale and yourface told me you believed it every word. That puzzled me. How couldanything good come out of Valmy? Yet next day you saved the Dauphin'slife and again yesterday. But I am forgetting the King and how we knowthe letter was a lie. Cartier, the innkeeper at Chateau-Renaud, has ason in Valmy and had been to visit him: the King was on the walls whenhe left before sunset last night. The hangman's letter was a trap tocatch us all, and the Great King consented to it. What a worthy King!Oh! I am very human and my bitterness must speak out when I rememberlast night. Saxe, Tristan, the King, Monsieur d'Argenton, and againstthem one weak coward of a girl. They would have lied my life away lastnight; and not mine only, the Dauphin's."

  "Mademoiselle, am I forgiven for my folly of yesterday?" He knew hewas, but for a cunning reason of his own he wished to hear her say so.

  "Can I blame you?" she answered, making no pretence at misunderstandinghim. "You, too, are from Valmy. No, no. I do not mean that. Thatwas a cruel thing to say; it is you who must forgive me, for you arenot of Valmy, you who stood by me and believed in me even when I seemedthe vile thing they called me."

  "The sweetest and truest woman on God's earth," he said. "I believedin you even before I loved you--no, that is not true, for I think now Iloved you that very first night when you had nothing for me but thecontempt I deserved. Every day since then you have grown sweeter,dearer, more reverenced: so strong for others, so full of courage forothers, so full of thought for others and without a thought foryourself: never one thought for yourself, never one and never a fear.And every day I have hungered for you; I don't know any other word forit but just hungered, hungered, hungered that a little of the dearwomanly graciousness might be mine. Though that would not be enough,not that only: love must have love or go starved."

  Except for a shake of the head in depreciation or denial she had heardhim without interruption. Why should she interrupt what was so sweetto hear? But though it was the very comfort her heart longed for,there was no smile on her face, a fresher glow on the cheeks, perhaps,a fuller light in the eyes, but beyond these a pathetic wistful gravityrather, as if in the presence of a solemn sacrament. And surely therevelation of that which is nearest in us to the divine is a truesacrament of the spirit. But when he ended she put out a hand andtouched him gently, her fingers lingering on his arm in a caress.

  "And I? Oh, my dear, my more than dear, have I not hungered? I thinka woman starves for love as a man never can." From his arm the handstole up and caught him round the neck, the other joining it, and hisface was drawn down to her own. "Am I shameless, beloved? No! forthere is no shame in love, and Stephen, my heart, my hero, my man ofmen, I love you, I love you, I love you."

  But presently, as she lay in his arms, her head drawn into the hollowof that which held her near, the grey eyes smiled up at him in a returnto the tender mockery he knew and loved so well, nor was it less sweetfor the moisture behind the lashes.


  "Yesterday----"

  "Hush, beloved, do not talk of yesterday," nor, for the moment, couldshe. But she was wilful, and being a woman, had her way.

  "Yesterday you sang; will you ever sing again?"

  "Yes, listen!

  'Heigh-ho, love is my life, Live I in loving, and love I to live.'

  Until to-day I never knew how true that is. Ursula, my sweet, you mustteach me the ending, for I have never yet found one to please me."

  "You talk of endings when life has just begun. Tell me, was Homerblind?"

  "So they say," he answered, marvelling much what new shift of thoughtwas coming next.

  "I thought so," and the smile deepened until the grey eyes shonethrough their thin veil of unshed tears. "And Homer was blindyesterday or he would have seen I expected a very different question."

  "Yes, laugh at my foolishness; I love to see you laugh, you who havelaughed so little all these days. But I think the time of laughter hascome for us both."

  "Until you go back to Valmy."

  "And that must be soon."

  On the instant she belied his optimism, for the laughter faded from hereyes leaving her once more the woman of many sorrows, and with a sighshe released herself from his clasp.

  "I hate Valmy; I have a horror of it and of your terrible King. Healways seems to me like some dry-hearted, cold-hearted beast ratherthan a man. Is there nothing human in him?"

  "He is more human than you think. Ursula, I know it, so you need notshake that dear, wise head of yours."

  "You say so because you are so human yourself. Dear, I love you foryour charity."

  "Love me for what you will so long as you do love me," answered he."And do not be afraid. I am quite sure I am not making any mistake.The King trusts me as he never trusted Monsieur de Commines."

  "And how well he trusts him we saw last night," she said, with a littlebitter irony which surely might be pardoned. "But how can I help beingafraid? Are you not all I have in the world?"

  "Charles?"

  "Do you think Charles counts for anything now? And yet he is a dearboy who has the good taste to approve warmly of Monsieur Stephen LaMothe. Did I not tell you, that day you were playing with the dogs,that you would win all our hearts?"

  "And Monsieur Stephen La Mothe," said Stephen jestingly, "approves sowarmly of the dear boy's approval, that if it would not be presumptuoushe would ask his leave to beg his acceptance of a little remembrance ofthese last days."

  "Ask his leave! Poor boy, he would be delighted. Dauphin of Francethough he is, he gets so few presents. What is it? Let me guess.Your lute! and you would sing----"

  "No, not my lute, wicked that you are. And if I sang at all it wouldbe Blaise's song adapted to this most blessed of blessed days.

  Ursula is sweet to kiss, Sweet to kiss, sweet to kiss."

  I told Monsieur de Commines that was one thing I must have in a wife,and praise God, I have got it!"

  "Hush, Stephen! Do you want all Amboise to hear your foolishness?"

  "If that is foolishness, may I never be wise again. To me it is theone wisdom of the world. I think I am drunk this morning and it isonly seven o'clock. Is not that scandalous? Love-drunk at seven inthe morning and never to be sober again! Mademoiselle de Vesc, do youknow you are the most beautiful woman in all France?"

  "I know I am the happiest," she answered soberly. "But, Stephen, whathave you got for the boy? I would not be a true woman if I was notcurious."

  "And you are the very truest woman----"

  "Stephen, I will not have any more foolishness. Tell me at once whathave you got for Charles?"

  "Two small gifts: a coat-of-mail so fine in the links that you couldhold it in your two hands--no! not in your two hands, they are onlylarge enough to hold my heart. Then there is an embroidered mask, atinselled toy of a thing but pretty enough. They will help him todress his plays. Ask him, Ursula, if he will accept them from me eventhough I came by way of Valmy."

  "Would you spoil his pleasure? No, I shall say nothing at all aboutValmy, just that a wandering minstrel be so rich that he can makepresents to a Dauphin of France! Sing me a song, Master Homer theblind, and I will give you--let me see: no, not what you think--asilver livre!" But she did not wait for his music. Dropping him alittle demure, mocking curtsy she turned and ran down the box-edgedpath, singing as she went, and the air she sang was Stephen La Mothe's"Heigh-ho! love is my life; Live I in loving and love I to live!" andthe lilt of the music set Master Homer's heart throbbing.