CHAPTER XIII
A BATTLE IN MID AIR
A day or two after the supper of the wren pie, Max bought from a pedlera gray falcon most beautifully marked, with a scarlet head and neck, andwe sent our squires to Hymbercourt, asking him to solicit from theduke's seneschal, my Lord de Vergy, permission to strike a heron on themarshes. The favor was easily obtained, and we went forth that afternoonto try the new hawk.
The hours passed quickly. The hawk was perfectly trained, and as fierceas a mountain wildcat. Its combats in mid air were most exciting. Itwould attack its prey and drive it back to a point nearly over ourheads. There it waged the battle of death. It had killed three herons,all of which had fallen at our feet, and we were returning home when afourth rose from the marsh. We were on a side road or path, perhaps fivehundred yards from the main highway.
At the moment Max gave wing to his bird, two ladies and three gentlemencame up the road, returning to Peronne, and halted to witness theaerial combat. That they were of the court, I could easily see by theirhabits, though the distance was so great that I could not distinguishtheir faces.
Never did hawk acquit itself more nobly. It seemed to realize that ithad a distinguished audience. The heron opened the battle desperately,and persisted in keeping its course to the south. The hawk, not readyfor battle till the prey should be over our heads, circled round andround the heron, constantly striking, but carefully avoiding the _coupde grace_. After the birds had flown several hundred yards away from us,and were growing small in the distance, the heron, less hardy than itsknightly foe, showed signs of weariness and confusion. It changed itscourse, still flying away from us. This did not suit the hawk, and itcontinued circling about its faltering prey with a vicious swiftnesswell calculated to inspire terror. Its movements became so rapid that itappeared to describe a gray circle about the heron. These circles, withthe heron as the centre, constantly grew smaller, and after a time wecould see that the birds were slowly but surely approaching us.
When they were almost over our heads, the hawk rose with incredibleswiftness above its prey, and dropped like a bolt of gray lightning uponthe heron. Then followed a struggle that lasted while the birds fellthree hundred feet. When within fifty feet of the ground the hawksuddenly spread its wings and stood motionless in mid air, watching itsvanquished foe as it fell to a spot within ten yards of where we stood.The movement of the falcon in descending to us can only be described asa settling or gradual sinking, with outstretched, motionless wings. WhenMax piped, the bird flew to its master's wrist and held down its beakfor the hood.
At the close of the battle, the gentlemen of our little audience clappedtheir hands, and the ladies waved their kerchiefs. Max and I raised ourcaps and reined our horses toward the main road. As we approached, theladies and one of the gentlemen resumed their journey toward CambraiGate, but the others awaited us. When we reached them we found, to oursurprise, Duke Charles and my Lord d'Hymbercourt.
"Ah, it is our unknown knight who was so eager to fight Count Calli,"exclaimed the duke.
"And still eager, Your Grace," answered Max. He uncovered uponapproaching the duke, but after a moment said, "By Your Grace's leave,"and resumed his cap. I, of course, remained uncovered. The duke showedsurprise and irritation as he answered:--
"Since you do not see fit to tell us who you are, you should have thegrace to remain uncovered."
Max glanced quickly at the duke's face, and removed his cap, as heanswered, smiling:--
"If it pleases Your Grace, I will remain uncovered even though I be thePope himself."
The duke saw the humor of the situation and replied:--
"One who owns so noble a hawk may remain covered in any man's presence.Never have I seen so rare a battle in mid air. The soul of Rolandhimself must inhabit the bird."
"Will Your Grace accept the hawk?" Max asked.
"Gladly," answered the duke, "though I hesitate to deprive you of a birdto which you must be attached."
"Do not hesitate to give me that pleasure, my lord," answered Max. "Thebird is yours. His name is Caesar. I will send him to the castlethis evening."
"Do not send him," suggested the duke. "Double your kindness by bringinghim to-morrow at the noon hour, after the morning audience. We must nowfollow the princess. Adieu, messieurs."
The duke touched his cap, and we bent almost to our horses' manes.
Charles and Hymbercourt rode forward at a brisk canter, and Max and Ifollowed slowly. We entered Cambrai Gate three or four minutes after theduke and the princess.
Max, eager to exhibit his hawk to Yolanda, proposed that we ridedirectly to Castleman's house.
While we were crossing the Cologne bridge we saw the duke's party enterthe castle by the Postern, and as we turned a corner toward Castleman'sthe ladies looked in our direction and the gentlemen lifted their caps.
"Yolanda will be delighted when she sees my hawk," said Max.
I did not answer, but I thought that Yolanda would not see the bird thatevening, since she had just entered the castle with her father. I was ingreat glee of spirits; I had at last trapped the young lady. If she werenot at Castleman's house there could be but one answer to my riddle. Idid not merely believe that I should not find her there; I knew Ishould not.
Max and I hitched our horses, and when Castleman's front door opened,lo! there stood Yolanda. Never in all my life have I taken such a fall.
Somewhat out of breath, Yolanda exclaimed:--
"Ah, Sir Max and Sir Karl, I saw you coming and ran to give youwelcome."
She was in an ecstasy of glee, strangely out of proportion to the event,and there was a look of triumph in her eyes.
After we entered the house Yolanda's laughter continued, and if itceased for a moment it broke out again without a pretext. She was alwayspleased to see Max, and never failed to show her pleasure in laughtermore or less; but Max's presence could hardly account for her highmerriment and the satisfaction she seemed to feel, as if a great victoryhad been gained. My sense of utter defeat had nothing but Yolanda'speculiar conduct to comfort it.
To the arbor we went, Yolanda carrying the hawk on her shoulder andcaressing it with her cheek. In the garden, when our adventures wererelated, Yolanda, all excitement, could not keep her chair, but danceddelightedly like a child and killed a score of imaginary herons.
She stroked the falcon's wings, and when I said, "My lord the duke hasgraciously consented to accept the bird," she turned upon Max,exclaiming in mock anger:--
"The duke has graciously consented to accept the bird! I should think itrequired little grace to accept such a gift, though much to give it. Whydon't you give the bird to me, Sir Max, if you are eager to partwith it?"
"I would gladly have given it to you, Fraeulein," answered Max, "had Isupposed you could use it on the duke's marshes. Only nobles practisethe royal sport of falconry."
Yolanda glanced quickly from Max to Castleman, turned her face to thebird upon her shoulder, and said, with a touch of dignity:--
"We receive small favors from court once in a while, don't we, uncle?We are not dirt under the nobles' feet, if we are plain burgher folk,are we, uncle?"
"Don't you know, Fraeulein, what great pleasure I should have taken ingiving you the bird?" asked Max.
Yolanda bent her head to one side, placed her cheek against the falcon'swing and pouted. Her pout was prettier even than her smile, and that issaying a great deal.
After a few minutes Yolanda started to walk up the garden path and Maxfollowed her, leaving the Castlemans and me under the arbor. Yolanda,still pouting, carried Caesar on her shoulder, lavishing caresses on thebird that excited Max's bitterest envy. Max spoke at intervals, but sheanswered only to the bird. After many futile efforts to make her speak,he said:--
"If you won't talk to me, I'll go back to the arbor."
She turned to the bird: "We are willing, Caesar, aren't we--if he cango."
Max laughed and started toward the arbor.
"Tell him to come back, Ca
esar. Tell him to come back," exclaimedYolanda.
"I take no orders from a bird," declared Max, with pretendedseriousness. Then she turned toward him and her face softened. Shesmiled and the dimples came, though there was a nervous tremor in theupturned corners of her mouth that belied her bantering air and broughtMax quickly to her side. I saw the pantomime, though I did not hear thewords; and I knew that neither Max nor any other man could withstand thequivering smile that played upon Yolanda's lips and the yearninginvitation that was in her eyes. If Max did not soon take himself awayfrom Burgundy and lead himself out of this temptation, I feared that inthe end he would cast aside his ancient heritage, rend his sacred familyties, and forego everything he possessed in response to this mighty cryof nature, offering the one chance in life for happiness.
"Now you will give me the bird--I know you will," exclaimed Yolanda.
A remnant of the pout still hovered about her lips, doing battle withthe dimples of a smile.
"I have already given him to the duke," answered Max.
"Tell the duke the bird escaped, or died suddenly of an apoplexy. Tellhim anything you like, but give me the hawk," said Yolanda.
"Would you have me lie, Fraeulein?" asked Max, amused at her persistency."I cannot do that, even for you. If you insist upon having the bird, Imay go to the duke and withdraw my gift."
"Would you do that for me, Sir Max?" she asked, eagerly.
"Ay, and a great deal more, Fraeulein. I tremble at the thought of whatyou could make me do," he answered.
"In the fiend's name, let the duke have the bird," cried Yolanda. "Hewill pout more than I if you don't. He is of a sullen nature."
"Do you know the duke?" asked Max, suspecting for the first time thatYolanda might be more intimate about the court than he had supposed.
"I have heard much of him from those who know him," answered Yolanda.
So the duke got Caesar.
The next morning Hymbercourt came to the inn to accompany us to thecastle. While we were sipping a mug of wine at a garden table,he said:--
"I do not want to be officious in your affairs, but I am convinced thatit will be well for you to tell the duke who you are. If you do not seefit to do so, it were wise in you to leave Burgundy at your earliestconvenience."
"I cannot leave within a month," said Max. I knew the cause of hisdetention, and, ignoring his remark, turned to Hymbercourt:--
"Do you want to give the reasons for your advice?"
"Yes, I am quite willing," he answered, "but I would not have my wordsrepeated."
"Of that you may rest assured," I answered.
"If you do not tell the duke who you are," said Hymbercourt, "he willsoon learn it from our Italian friends, who have the fiend's own energyin the pursuit of vengeance. They will discover who you are, and youwill lose the advantage of a frank avowal. Duke Charles admires Sir Max,but our liege lord is capricious and can easily fancy that others areplotting to injure him. I am sure that he will now receive the Count ofHapsburg graciously if you tell him that Sir Max is that person. What hewould do were he to learn the fact highly colored by his Italians, Icannot say. These mercenaries have a strange influence over His Grace,and there is not a nobleman in Burgundy who does not fear them."
"How will the duke feel concerning the old proposition of marriage?" Iasked.
"That, I hope, will be of no moment now, since the duke is arranging forthe immediate celebration of this marriage with the Dauphin. I am givento understand that His Grace, the Bishop of Cambrai, secretary to theduke, has received orders to draught a letter to King Louis expressingour lord's pleasure. King Louis is so eager for the marriage, which willonce more bring Burgundy to the French kingship, that Duke Charles deemsit sufficiently courteous to express his intentions to Louis, ratherthan to request the king's compliance. The duke's contempt for the kingof France is so great that he causes the letter to be written inEnglish, a language which Charles loves because of the English blood inhis veins, and which Louis, with good reason, hates."
"Has this letter been despatched?" I asked, concealing as well as Icould my deep concern.
Max heard Hymbercourt's statement without even a show of interest. Hadhe suspected that Hymbercourt was speaking of Yolanda's marriage, theresurely would have been a demonstration.
"No," answered Hymbercourt, "the letter has not been sent, but the dukewill despatch it at once. It will probably be the chief business of thismorning's audience. The duke wants the marriage celebrated before heleaves for Switzerland. That will be within three or four weeks. I amnot informed as to the details of the ceremony, but I suppose theprincess will be taken to St. Denis, and will there be married. Theunfortunate princess, doubtless, has not yet been told of her impendingfate, though she may have heard of it by rumor. There will be tears andtrouble when she learns of it, for she has a strong dash of her father'stemper. But--" He shrugged his shoulders as if to say that her tearswould count for nothing.
Hymbercourt's words took the heart out of me; and when he left us for amoment, I urged Max to leave Burgundy at once.
"I must see Yolanda and ask her to release me from my promise before Igo," he said.
"You are surely not so weak as to allow a burgher girl to hold you?" Iasked.
"The girl does not hold me," he answered. "I was so weak as to give mypromise, and that holds me."
"She will give you your release if you demand it," I suggested.
"If she does, I will go with you to-morrow. It is time that we were outof Burgundy. I will forego even my combat with Calli to get away. Ishould not have given Yolanda my promise; but she is so persuasive, andI pity her, and--and, oh! Karl, I--the trouble is, I love her, and it islike death to part from her forever. That is my weakness."
The poor, suffering boy leaned forward on the table and buried his facein his arms.
"That isn't your weakness, Max, it's your strength," I responded. "Fewmen are so unfortunate as to escape it. God must pity those who do. Itmay be well to tell the duke who you are. If he is displeased, we mayleave Burgundy at once. If he receives you graciously, we may remain andyou may fight this Calli. That is the one duty that holds youin Peronne."
My heart was hardened with years, and its love of just vengeance wasstronger than young Max could feel. Besides, he was possessed by asofter passion; and though he felt it his pleasant duty to fight Calli,vengeance held second place in his breast.
Hymbercourt returned, and we started for the castle accompanied by oursquires; all riding in fine state.
We arrived at the great hall before the duke had arisen from the morningaudience, and waited unobserved in the back part of the chamber. OurIrish squire, Michael, carried Caesar, hooded and belled. He was held bya golden chain that we had bought from a goldsmith, notwithstanding ourpurse was growing dangerously light.
There was a great stir in the hall as we entered. The courtiers werebuzzing like a swarm of bees discussing a new queen. Evidently mattersof importance had been under consideration. Campo-Basso, my Lord deVergy, seneschal of Burgundy, and the Bishop of Cambrai, clerk to theduke, were standing on the second step of the dais, each with handresting on knee, and leaning eagerly toward the duke. Charles and thesecouncillors were speaking in low tones, and the courtiers of less degreewere taking advantage of the intermission in public business to settlethe great question among themselves. Each petty courtier felt that hecould offer a suggestion that would be of great value, could he but gainthe duke's ear.
After a little time, Charles saw Hymbercourt with us, and sent a page tofetch him. Hymbercourt left us, and soon we saw him in whisperedconversation with the duke. Soon after Hymbercourt had gone to theducal throne, Calli, with two Italians, stopped four paces from where wewere standing. He gazed insolently at Max, and said in Italian to hiscompanions:--
"There is the loutish outlander, who boasted before the duke that hewould fight me. He is a big callow fellow, and it would be a shame tostick the swine."
Max, who understood the Italian langu
age sufficiently to grasp Calli'smeaning, flushed angrily, but I touched his arm and he turned his backupon the fellow. Then I spoke in tones that Calli could not failto hear:--
"Never turn your face from a cowardly foe, Max. He will, if he can, stabyou in the back. Your revenge will come when you send his soul to hell."
Calli grasped his dagger hilt and muttered something about the duke'spresence. The incident determined us in the course Max should take. Heshould tell the duke who he was, remain in Burgundy to kill this fellowCalli, and to meet such other fortune as the Fates might have instore for him.
Hymbercourt and the duke spoke together for the space of five minutes,evidently discussing a parchment that Charles held in his hand. Then theduke resumed his seat, and handed the parchment to the Bishop ofCambrai, when all save His Reverence stepped from the dais to thefloor. A herald commanded silence, and the bishop spoke:--
"It is the will of our most gracious lord that I announce to the courtthe impending marriage of Her Grace, the Princess, Mademoiselle deBurgundy, to the princely Dauphin of France, son to our lord's royalally, King Louis. His Grace of Burgundy hopes within three weeks to openhis campaign against the Swiss, and it is his intention to cause themarriage ceremony to take place before his departure. When the detailshave been arranged, they will be announced to the court."
The bishop had barely stopped speaking when the shutter in the chancelof the ladies' gallery above the throne opened, and a voice rang throughthe vast audience hall, like the tones of an alarm bell:--
"Make one more announcement, please, my Lord Bishop. Say that if thiswondrous ceremony is to come off within three weeks, the Dauphin ofFrance must be content with a dead bride."
No one saw the face of the speaker. The shutter closed, and a deepsilence fell upon the room. The duke sprang angrily to his feet; hisface was like a thunder-cloud. He looked toward the ladies' gallery, andstood for a moment like the incarnation of wrath. A puzzled expressionfollowed the glare of anger; and within a moment he laughed, and wavedhis hands to the heralds, directing them to cry the rising. Theaudience was dismissed, and the courtiers left the hall, laughing inimitation of their lord and master.
Nothing could be more indicative of cruelty than the laughter thatfollowed the passionate protest of the unhappy princess. To the duke,and of course to his courtiers, the girl's suffering and the fate thatwas in store for her were mere matters of mirth. They laughed at herpain as savages laugh at the agonies of a tortured victim.
I was so startled by the cry of the princess that for a time I could notthink coherently. My first clear thought was of Yolanda. If she were theprincess, this sacrifice that is practised without a protest throughoutthe world had come home to me, for Yolanda had nestled in my heart. Thatshe, the gentle, the tender, the passionate, the sensitive, should bethe victim of this legalized crime; that she, innocent of all fault,save that she had been born a girl, should be condemned to miserybecause the laws of chivalry and the laws of God, distorted by men tosuit their purposes, declared her to be the chattel of her father, movedme as I was never moved before. My sympathy for this rare, sweet girl,so capable of joy, so susceptible to pain, almost brought tears to myeyes; for I could not help thinking that she was the suffering princess.
When the courtiers had left the great hall Hymbercourt, Max, and Iapproached the duke. Hymbercourt and I made obeisance on bended knee,but Max saluted the duke with a low bow. After the duke had spoken,Max said:--
"I hope Your Grace has not forgotten your promise to honor me byaccepting the falcon you admired yesterday."
"I have not, my unknown friend," answered the duke.
Max took the bird from Michael and offered it to Charles, who acceptedthe gift graciously. I looked toward Hymbercourt and he, understandingmy unspoken word, again bent his knee before the duke:--
"My gracious lord, it is the desire of this young knight that he bepresented to you in due form under his own name and title, though hewould humbly ask that he be permitted to retain the name by which he isknown in Burgundy. His reasons for so doing are good, though they wouldnot interest Your Grace. Have I my lord's permission to present him?"
"In God's name, yes!" exclaimed the duke, stirred by some irritation,but spurred by curiosity.
"My lord," said Hymbercourt, speaking to the duke and extending his handtoward Max, "it is my great honor to present to Your Grace his highness,Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg."
"By the just God, my lord, you certainly have given us a surprise," saidthe duke, stepping back and making no offer of his hand to Max. Hepassed the falcon to a page, and continued, "What business have thesemen at my court?"
"None, Your Grace, absolutely none," answered Max, standing proudlybefore the duke and steadfastly meeting his gaze. "It was my desire tosee the world and to learn something of its people before I undertook togovern my own. My country is not rich and fat like this great land ofBurgundy. I have neither the means nor the inclination to travel instate; so my dear friend and instructor, Sir Karl de Pitti, undertook toguide me and teach me in this journey to the outer world. I would ratherhave missed seeing all other countries than Burgundy, and of all theprinces of the world Your Grace was and is to me the most interesting.Your hand is the strongest, your courage the bravest, and your land therichest in Europe. We heard at Metz that you were here in Peronne; andnow, my lord, you understand what business I have in Burgundy."
I had never given the boy credit for so much adroitness. What the duke'sintentions were, immediately after Hymbercourt presented Max, I couldnot have told, but his words sounded ominous, and the expression of hisface was anything but pleasant. Max, though not quarrelsome, was notgiven to the soft answer that turneth away wrath; but on this occasiondiscretion came to his rescue, and he made the soft answer with adignity and boldness that won Charles's respect. The duke's facesoftened into a half-smile,--if anything so hard as his face can be saidto soften,--and he offered his hand to Max. He withdrew it almostinstantly from Max's grasp, and said:--
"Are you sure my armament against Switzerland is no part of the reasonfor your presence in Burgundy?" Like all highly pugnacious men, he wassuspicious. "I have been told your father is a friend to the Swiss."
"Does Your Grace mean to ask if I am here in the capacity of a spy, asCalli has charged?" asked Max, lifting his head and looking boldly intothe duke's face.
"I do not know," said the duke, hesitatingly. "I do not say you are. Ido not think you are, but--"
"I am glad Your Grace does not think we are spies, and am pleased tobelieve that you would not put so great an insult upon us," answeredMax, "else we should ask permission to leave Burgundy at once. I am suremy lord knows we are not spies. If Your Lordship had a son, would yousend him forth as a spy for the sake of Burgundy? Much less would you doit for another land. Your Grace is misinformed. My father is not afriend to the Swiss; neither does he hate them, though perhaps he hasbetter cause to do so than has Your Grace. Your quarrel with the Swissis over a few cart-loads of sheepskins. These same Swiss took from myfather our ancient homestead, the old Castle of Hapsburg, and thesurrounding territory of Aargau."
"I have heard of the spoliation, and have often wondered at yourfather's meek submission," said the duke, with an almost imperceptiblesneer. Like Richard the Lion-hearted, of England, butchery was thisduke's trade, and he despised a man who did not practise it on allpossible occasions. A pretext for a quarrel is balm to the soul ofa hero.
"The mountains of Switzerland, my lord, are the graveyard of foreignsoldiers," Max replied. "Old Hapsburg Castle is a mere hawks' crag, asits name implies, and the half-score of mountain peaks my father lostwith it are not worth the life of his humblest subject. He loves hispeople, and would not shed their blood to soothe his wounded pride. Theman who makes war should fight in the front rank."
"There is where I fight, young sir," returned Charles.
"The world knows that fact, my lord," responded Max. "My father cannotfight at the head of his army, therefore, he makes w
ar only in defenceof his people's hearths. It is possible that after consulting with myfriend, Sir Karl, I may ask the honor of serving with Your Grace againstthese Swiss who despoiled my house. Is Your Grace now satisfied that weare not Swiss spies? And are we welcome to sojourn for a time inPeronne? Or shall we leave Burgundy and return to my father in Styria,to tell him that you turned a guest and a friend from your door?"
"You are very welcome, Sir Count, and you, Sir Karl," answered the duke,giving his right hand to Max and familiarly offering me his left. Thishard duke had been beaten into a gracious mood by Max's adroit mixtureof flattery and boldness.
A soft answer may turn away wrath, but it may also involve thedisagreeable necessity of turning the other cheek. If it be not temperedby spirit, it is apt to arouse contempt. The duke remained silent forthe space of a minute or two. He was evidently struggling to suppress agood impulse. Then he turned to me and said, laughingly:--
"By my soul, Sir Karl, you have brought us a Roland and a Demosthenes inone. Where learned you your oratory, Sir Count?"
"From a just cause, my lord," quickly retorted Max.
"I fear I have had the worst of this encounter, Hymbercourt," said theduke, smiling, "and I see nothing left for me but apology."
"I sincerely hope Your Grace will not embarrass us by apologizing," saidMax.
Charles hesitated, gave a short laugh, and apologized by placing hishand on Max's shoulder.
"Let us go into the little parley room," he said. "Hymbercourt, lead theway with Sir Max; Sir Karl and I will follow presently."
Max and Hymbercourt passed out at a small door near the throne, and theduke turned to me:--
"I like the boy's modest boldness, and I hope that I may induce him andyou to accompany me against the Swiss. I would not accept his offer madeon the spur of the moment, but if, on talking it over with him, you makeup your minds to come with me, I will make it well worth your while.This war will be but a May-day outing. We'll speak on the subject again.Meantime, I understand that you and Sir Max wish to remain incognitoat Peronne?"
"We do, Your Grace," I responded. "I fear it will be impossible toaccept the honor you have offered, but, as you have graciously said, wewill, if you wish, speak of it again."
"I am content," said the duke. "Let us follow Hymbercourt."
Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy Page 13
