Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman

by Stanley J Weyman

  But after all it was nothing to me. The girl was a Papist, a Bavarian, the daughter of a roistering freebooting rider, versed in camp life. If with a fair outside she proved to be at heart what every reasonable man would expect to find her, what then? I had no need to trouble my head. I had affairs enough of my own on my hands.

  Yet the affair did trouble me. The false innocence of the child’s face haunted and perplexed me, and would not leave me, though I tried to think of other things and had other things to think of. I was to meet the Burgomaster in the market-place, and go thence with him, and I had promised myself that I would make good use of my opportunities; that I would lose no point of the town’s behaviour, that not a lowering face should escape me, nor a quarter whence danger might arise in the future. But the girl’s eyes made havoc of all my resolutions, and I had fairly reached the market-place before I remembered what I was doing.

  There indeed a sight, which in a moment swept the cobwebs from my brain, awaited me. The square was full of people, not closely packed, but standing in loose groups, and all talking in voices so low as to produce a dull sullen sound more striking than silence. The Mayor and four or five Councillors occupied the steps of the market-house. Raised a head and shoulders above the throng, and glancing at it askance from time to time with scarcely disguised apprehension, they wore an air of irresolution it was impossible to mistake. Hofman in particular looked like a man with the rope already round his neck. His face was pale, his fat cheeks hung pendulous, his eyes never rested on anything for more than a second. They presently lit on me, and then if farther proof of the state of his mind was needed, I found it in the relief with which he hailed my appearance; relief, not the less genuine because he hastened to veil it from the jealous eyes that from every part of the square watched his proceedings.

  The crowd made way for me silently. One in every two, perhaps, greeted me, and some who did not greet me, smiled at me fatuously. On the other hand, I was struck by the air of gloomy expectation which prevailed. I discerned that a very little would turn it into desperation, and saw, or thought I saw, that cannon, or no cannon, this was a case for delicate and skilful handling. The town was panic-stricken, partly at the thought of what it had done, partly at the sight of the danger which threatened it. But panic is a double-edged weapon. It takes little to turn it into fury.

  I made for the opening into the High Street, and the Burgomaster, coming down the steps, passed through the crowd and met me there.

  ‘This is a bad business, Master Martin,’ he said, facing me with an odd mixture of shamefacedness and bravado. ‘We must do our best to patch it up.’

  ‘You had your warning,’ I answered coldly, turning with him up the street, every window and doorway in which had its occupant. Dietz and two or three Councillors followed us, the Minister’s face looking flushed and angry, and as spiteful as a cat’s. ‘Two lives have been lost,’ I continued, ‘and some one must pay for them.’

  Hofman mopped his face. ‘Surely,’ he said, ‘the three lead on our side, Master Martin — —’

  ‘I do not see what they have to do with it,’ I answered, maintaining a cold and uninterested air, which was torture to him. ‘It is your affair, however, not mine.’

  ‘But, my dear friend — Martin,’ he stammered, plucking my sleeve, ‘you are not revengeful. You will not make it worse? You won’t do that?’

  ‘Worse?’ I retorted. ‘It is bad enough already. And I am afraid you will find it so.’

  He winced and looked at me askance, his eyes rolling in a fever of apprehension. For a moment I really thought that he would turn and go back. But the crowd was behind; he was on the horns of a dilemma, and with a groan of misery he moved on, looking from time to time at the terrace above us. ‘Those cursed cannon,’ I heard him mutter, as he wiped his brow.

  ‘Ay,’ I said, sharply, ‘if it had not been for the cannon you would have seen our throats cut before you would have moved. I quite understand that. But you see it is our turn now.’

  We were on the steps and he did not answer. I looked up, expecting to see the wall by the wicket-gate well-manned; but I was mistaken. No row of faces looked down from it. All was silent. A single man, on guard at the wicket, alone appeared. He bade us stand, and passed the word to another. He in his turn disappeared and presently old Jacob, with a half-pike on his shoulder, and a couple of men at his back, came stiffly out to receive us with all the formality and discipline of a garrison in time of war. He acknowledged my presence by a wink, but saluted my companions in the coldest manner possible, proceeding at once to march us without a word spoken to the door of the house, where we were again bidden to stand.

  All this filled me with satisfaction. I knew what effect it would have on Hofman, and how it would send his soul into his shoes. At the same time my satisfaction was not unmixed. I felt a degree of strangeness myself. The place seemed changed, the men, moving stiffly, had an unfamiliar air. I missed the respect I had enjoyed in the house. For the moment I was nobody; a prisoner, an alien person admitted grudgingly, and on sufferance.

  I comforted myself with the reflection that all would be well when I reached the presence. But I was mistaken. I saw indeed my lady’s colour come and go when I entered, and her eyes fell. But she kept her seat, she looked no more at me than at my companions, she uttered no greeting or word of acknowledgment. It was the Waldgrave who spoke — the Waldgrave who acted. In a second there came over me a bitter feeling that all was changed; that the old state of things at Heritzburg was past, and a rule to which I was a stranger set in its place.

  Three or four of my lady’s women were grouped behind her, while Franz and Ernst stood like statues at the farther door. Fraulein Anna sat on a stool in the window-bay, and my lady’s own presence was, as at all times, marked by a stateliness and dignity which seemed to render it impossible that she should pass for second in any company. But for all that the Waldgrave, standing up straight and tall behind her, with his comeliness, his youth, and his manhood and the red light from the coat of arms in the stained window just touching his fair hair, did seem to me to efface her. It was he who stood there to pardon or punish, praise or blame, and not my lady. And I resented it.

  Not that his first words to me were not words of kindness.

  ‘Ha, Martin,’ he cried, his face lighting up, ‘I hear you fought like an ancient Trojan, and broke as many heads as Hector. And that your own proved too hard for them! Welcome back. In a moment I may want a word with you; but you must wait.’

  I stood aside, obeying his gesture; and he apologised, but with a very stern aspect, to Hofman and his companions for addressing me first.

  ‘The Countess Rotha, however, Master Burgomaster,’ he continued, with grim suavity, ‘much as she desires to treat your office with respect, cannot but discern between the innocent and the guilty.’

  ‘The guilty, my lord?’ Hofman cried, in such a hurry and trepidation, I could have laughed. ‘I trust that there are none here.’

  ‘At any rate you represent them,’ the Waldgrave retorted.

  ‘I, my lord?’ The Mayor’s hair almost stood on end at the thought.

  ‘Ay, you; or why are you here?’ the Waldgrave answered. ‘I understood that you came to offer such amends as the town can make, and your lady accept.’

  Poor Hofman’s jaw fell at this statement of his position, and he stood the picture of dismay and misery. The Waldgrave’s peremptory manner, which shook him out of the rut of his slow wits, and upset his balanced periods, left him prostrate without a word to say. He gasped and remained silent. He was one of those people whose dull self-importance is always thrusting them into positions which they are not intended to fill.

  ‘Well?’ the Waldgrave said, after a pause, ‘as you seem to have nothing to say, and judgment must ultimately come from your lady, I will proceed at once to declare it. And firstly, it is her will, Master Burgomaster, that within forty-eight hours you present to her on behalf of the town a humble petition and apology
, acknowledging your fault; and that the same be entered on the town records.’

  ‘It shall be done,’ Master Hofman cried. His eagerness to assent was laughable.

  ‘Secondly, that you pay a fine of a hundred gold ducats for the benefit of the children of the men wantonly killed in the riot.’

  ‘It shall be done,’ Master Hofman said, — but this time not so readily.

  ‘And lastly,’ the Waldgrave continued in a very clear voice,’ that you deliver up for execution two in the marketplace, one at the foot of the castle steps, and one at the West Gate, for a warning to all who may be disposed to offend again — four of the principal offenders in the late riot.’

  ‘My lord!’ the Mayor cried, aghast.

  ‘My lord, if you please,’ the Waldgrave answered coldly. ‘But do you consent?’

  Hofman looked blanker than ever. ‘Four?’ he stammered.

  ‘Precisely; four,’ the young lord answered.

  ‘But who? I do not know them,’ the Mayor faltered.

  The Waldgrave shook his head gently. ‘That is your concern, Burgomaster,’ he said, with a smile. ‘In forty-eight hours much may be done.’

  Hofman’s hair stood fairly on end. Craven as he was, the thought of the crowd in the market-place, the thought of the reception he would have, if he assented to such terms, gave him courage.

  ‘I will consult with my colleagues,’ he said with a great gulp.

  ‘I am afraid that you will not have the opportunity,’ the Waldgrave rejoined, in a peculiarly suave tone. ‘Until the four are given up to us, we prefer to take care of you and the learned Minister. I see that you have brought two or three friends with you; they will serve to convey what has passed to the town. And I doubt not that within a few hours we shall be able to release you.’

  Master Hofman fell a trembling.

  ‘My lord,’ he cried, between tears and rage, ‘my privileges!’

  ‘Master Mayor,’ the Waldgrave answered, with a sudden snap and snarl, which showed his strong white teeth, ‘my dead servants.’

  After that there was no more to be said. The Burgomaster shrank back with a white face, and though Dietz, with rage burning in his sallow cheeks, cried ‘woe to him’ who separated the shepherd from the sheep, and would have added half-a-dozen like texts, old Jacob cut him short by dropping his halberd on his toes and promptly removed him and the quavering Burgomaster to strong quarters in the tower. Meanwhile the other members of the party were marched nothing loth to the steps, and despatched through the gate with the same formality which had surprised us on our arrival.

  Then for a few moments I was happy, in spite of doubts and forebodings; for the moment the room was cleared of servants, my lady came down from her place, and with tears in her eyes, laid her hand on my rough shoulder, and thanked me, saying such things to me, and so sweetly, that though many a silken fool has laughed at me, as a clown knowing no knee service, I knelt there and then before her, and rose tenfold more her servant than before. For of this I am sure, that if the great knew their power, we should hear no more of peasants’ wars and Rainbow banners. A smile buys for them what gold will not for another. A word from their lips stands guerdon for a life, and a look for the service of the heart.

  However, few die of happiness, and almost before I was off my knees I found a little bitter in the cup.

  ‘Well, well,’ the Waldgrave said, with a comical laugh, and I saw my lady blush, ‘these are fine doings. But next time you go to battle, Martin, remember, more haste less speed. Where would you have been now, I should like to know, without my cannon?’

  ‘Perhaps still in Peter’s forge,’ I answered bluntly. ‘But that puzzles me less, my lord,’ I continued, ‘than where you found your cannon.’

  He laughed in high good humour. ‘So you are bit, are you?’ he said. ‘I warrant you thought we could do nothing without you. But the cannon, where do you think we did find them? You should know your own house.’

  ‘I know of none here,’ I answered slowly, ‘except the old cracked pieces the Landgrave Philip left.’

  ‘Well?’ he retorted, smiling. ‘And what if these be they?’

  ‘But they are cracked and foundered!’ I cried warmly. ‘You could no more fire powder in them, my lord, than in the Countess’s comfit-box!’

  ‘But if you do not want to burn powder?’ he replied. ‘If the sight of the muzzles be enough? What then, Master Wiseacre?’

  ‘Why, then, my lord,’ I answered, drily, after a pause of astonishment,’ I think that the game is a risky one.’

  ‘Chut, you are jealous!’ he said, laughing.

  ‘And should be played very moderately.’

  ‘Chut,’ he said again, ‘you are jealous! Is he not, Rotha? He is jealous.’

  My lady looked at me laughing.

  ‘I think he is a little,’ she said. ‘You must acknowledge, Martin,’ she continued, pleasantly, ‘that the Waldgrave has managed very well?’

  I must have assented, however loth; but he saved me the trouble. He did not want to hear my opinion.

  ‘Very well?’ he exclaimed, with a laugh of pleasure; ‘I should think I have. Why, I have so brightened up your old serving-men that they make quite a tolerable garrison — mount guard, relieve, give the word and all, like so many Swedes. Oh, I can tell you a little briskness and a few new fashions do no harm. But now,’ he continued, complacently, ‘since you are so clever, my friend, where is the risk?’

  ‘If it becomes known in the town,’ I said, ‘that the cannon are dummies — —’

  ‘It is not known,’ he answered peremptorily.

  ‘Still, under the circumstances,’ I persisted, ‘I should with submission have imposed terms less stringent. Especially I should not have detained Master Hofman, my lord, who is a timid man, making for peace. He has influence. Shut up here he cannot use it.’

  ‘But our terms will show that we are not afraid,’ the Waldgrave answered. ‘And that is everything.’

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘Chut!’ he said, half in annoyance and half in good humour. ‘Depend upon it, there is nothing like putting a bold face on things. That is my policy. But the truth is you are jealous, my friend — jealous of my excellent generalship; but for which I verily believe you would be decorating a gallows in the market-place at this moment. Come, fair cousin,’ he added, gleefully, turning from me and snatching up my lady’s gloves and handing them to her, ‘let us out. Let us go and look down at our conquest, and leave this green-eyed fellow to rub his bruises.’

  My lady looked at me kindly and laughed. Still she assented, and my chance was gone. It was my place now to hold the door with lowered head, not to argue. And I did so. After all I had been well treated; I had spoken boldly and been heard.

  For a time after the sound of their voices had died away on the stairs, I stood still. The room was quiet and I felt blank and purposeless. In the first moments of return every-day duties had an air of dulness and staleness. I thought of one after another, but had not yet brought myself to the point of moving, when a hand, raising the latch of one of the inner doors, effectually roused me. I turned and saw Fraulein Anna gliding in. She did not speak at once, but came towards me as she had a way of coming — close up before she spoke. It had more than once disturbed me. It did so now.

  ‘Well, Master Martin,’ she said at last, in her mild spiteful tone, ‘I hope you are satisfied with your work; I hope my lord’s service may suit you as well as my lady’s.’

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE PRIDE OF YOUTH.

  But I am not going to relate the talk we had on that, Fraulein Anna and I. I learned one thing, and one only, and that I can put very shortly. I saw my face as it were in a glass, and I was not pleased with the reflection. Listening to Fraulein Anna’s biting hints and sidelong speeches — she did not spare them — I recognized that I was jealous; that the ascendency the young lord had gained with my lady and in the castle did not please me; and that if I would not make a
fool of myself and step out of my place, I must take myself roundly to task. Much might be forgiven to Fraulein Anna, who saw the quiet realm wherein she reigned invaded, and the friend she had gained won from her in an hour. But her case differed from mine. I was a servant, and woe to me if I forgot my place!

  Perhaps, also, it gave me pleasure to find my uneasiness shared. At any rate, I felt better afterwards, and a message from my lady, bidding me rest my head and do nothing for the day, comforted me still further. I went out, and finding the terrace quiet, and deserted by all except the sentry at the wicket, I sat down on one of the stone seats which overlook the town and there began to think. The sun was behind a cloud and the air was fresh and cool, and I presently fell asleep with my head on my arms.

  While I slept my lady and the Waldgrave came and began to walk up and down the terrace, and gradually little bits of their talk slid into my dreams, until I found myself listening to them between sleeping and waking. The Waldgrave was doing most of the speaking, in the boyish, confident tone which became him so well. Presently I heard him say —

  ‘The whole art of war is changed, fair cousin. I had it from one who knows, Bernard of Weimar. The heavy battalions, the great masses, the slow movements, the system invented by the great Captain of Cordova are gone. Breitenfeld was their death-blow.’

  ‘Yet my uncle was a great commander,’ my lady said, with a little touch of impatience in her tone.

  ‘Of the old school.’

  I heard her laugh. ‘You speak as if you had been a soldier for a score of years, Rupert,’ she said.

  ‘Age is not experience,’ he answered hardily. ‘That is the mistake. How old was Alexander when he conquered Egypt? Twenty-three, cousin, and I am twenty-three. How old was the Emperor Augustus when he became Consul of Rome? Nineteen. How old was Henry of England when he conquered France? Twenty-seven. And Charles the Fifth, at Pavia? Twenty-five.’