Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy

by Charles Major

  CHAPTER XIV

  SIR KARL MEETS THE PRINCESS

  The duke and I passed through the door by which Max and Hymbercourt hadleft the hall, and entered a narrow passageway eight or ten yards long,having two doors at the farther end. The door to the right, I soonlearned, led to the little parley room where Max and Hymbercourt hadgone. The door to the left opened into a staircase that led to theapartments of the duchess. A narrow flight of stone steps that led fromthe ladies' gallery opened into the passage, and, just as the dukeentered in advance of me, two ladies emerged from the stairs. They didnot see me in the shadow, and supposed that the duke was alone. Thetaller, who I soon learned was the duchess, hastened down the passageand through the door leading to her apartments. The smaller I at oncerecognized. She was Yolanda.

  "Father, you cannot mean to send me into France," she cried, trying todetain the duke. "Kill me, father, if you will, but do not send me tothat hated land. I shall not survive this marriage a fortnight, and if Idie, Burgundy will go to our cousin of Bourbon."

  "Don't hinder me, daughter," returned the duke, impatiently. "Don't yousee we are not alone?"

  Yolanda turned in surprise toward me, and the duke said:--

  "Go by the right door, Sir Karl. I will be with you at once. I wish tospeak with the duchess."

  He hurriedly followed his wife and left me alone with Yolanda.

  "Fraeulein, my intrusion was unintentional," I stammered. "I followed theduke at his request."

  "Fraeulein!" exclaimed the girl, lifting her head and looking a veryqueen in miniature. "Fraeulein! Do you know, sir, to whom you speak?"

  "I beg your pardon, most gracious princess," I replied. "Did you notcommand me to address you as Fraeulein or Yolanda?"

  "My name, sir, is not Yolanda. You have made a sad mistake," said theprincess, drawing herself up to her full height. Then I thought ofYolanda's words when she told me that she resembled the princess as onepea resembles another.

  The girl trembled, and even in the dim light I could see the gleam ofanger in her eyes. I was endeavoring to frame a suitable apology whenshe spoke again:--

  "Fraeulein! Yolanda! Sir, your courtesy is scant to give me these names.I do not know you, and--did I not tell you that if you made this mistakewith the princess you would not so easily correct it? ThatI--you--Blessed Virgin! I have betrayed myself. I knew I should. I knewI could not carry it out."

  She covered her face with her hands and began to weep, speaking whileshe sobbed:--

  "My troubles are more than I can bear."

  I wished to reassure her at once:--

  "Most Gracious Princess--Yolanda--your secret is safe with me. You areas dear to me as if you were my child. You have nestled in my heart andfilled it as completely as one human being can fill the heart ofanother. I would gladly give my poor old life to make you happy. Now ifyou can make use of me, I am at your service."

  "You will not tell Sir Max?" she sobbed.

  She was no longer a princess. She was the child Yolanda.

  "As I hope for salvation, no, I will not tell Sir Max," I responded.

  "Sometime I will give you my reasons," she said.

  "I wish none," I replied.

  After a short pause, she went on, still weeping gently:--

  "If I must go to France, Sir Karl, you may come there to be my LordChamberlain. Perhaps Max should not come, since I shall be the wife ofanother, and--and there would surely be trouble. Max should not come."

  She stepped quickly to my side. Her hand fell, and she grasped mine foran instant under the folds of her cloak; then she ran from the passage,and I went to the room where Max and Hymbercourt were waiting.

  After a few moments the duke joined us. Wine was served, but Charles didnot drink. On account of the excessive natural heat of his blood hedrank nothing but water. His Grace was restless; and, although there wasno lack of courtesy, I fancied he did not wish us to remain. So afterour cups were emptied I asked permission to depart. The duke acquiescedby rising, and said, turning to Max:--

  "May we not try our new hawk together this afternoon?"

  "With pleasure, Your Grace," responded Max.

  "Then we'll meet at Cambrai Gate near the hour of two," said the duke.

  "I thank Your Grace," said Max, bowing.

  On our way back to the inn, I told Max of my meeting with the princess,and remarked upon her resemblance to Yolanda.

  "You imagined the resemblance, Karl. There can be but one Yolanda in theworld," said Max. "Her Highness, perhaps, is of Yolanda's complexion andstature,--so Yolanda has told me,--and your imagination has furnishedthe rest."

  "Perhaps that is true," said I, fearing that I had already spoken toofreely.

  So my great riddle was at last solved! The Fates had answered when I"gave it up." I was so athrill with the sweet assurance that Yolanda wasthe princess that I feared my secret would leap from my eyes or springunbidden from my lips.

  I cast about in my mind for Yolanda's reasons in wishing to remainYolanda to Max, and I could find none save the desire to win his heartas a burgher girl. That, indeed, would be a triumph. She knew that everymarriageable prince in Europe coveted her wealth and her estates. Themost natural desire that she or any girl could have would be to find aworthy man who would seek her for her own sake. As Yolanda, she offeredno inducement save herself. The girl was playing a daring game, anda wise one.

  True, there appeared to be no possibility that she could ever have Maxfor her husband, even should she win his heart as Yolanda. In view ofthe impending and apparently unavoidable French marriage, the futureheld no hope. But when her day of wretchedness should come, she would,through all her life, take comfort from the sweetest joy a woman canknow--that the man she loved loved her because she was her own fairself, and for no other reason. There would, of course, be the sorrow ofregret, but that is passive, while the joy of memory is ever active.

  When Max and I had departed, the duke turned to Hymbercourt and said:--

  "The bishop's letter is not sufficiently direct. It is my desire toinform King Louis that this marriage shall take place at once--now!_Now_! It will effectually keep Louis from allying with Bourbon andLorraine, or some other prince, while I am away from home. They all hateme, but not one of the cowards would say 'Booh!' unless the others wereback of him. A word from Louis would kindle rebellion in Liege andGhent. This war with Switzerland is what Louis has waited for; and whenI march to the south, he will march into Burgundy from the west unlesshe has a counter motive."

  "That is but too true, my lord," said Hymbercourt.

  "But if my daughter marries the Dauphin, Louis will look upon Burgundyas the property of the French kingship in the end, and the marriage willfrighten Bourbon and Lorraine to our feet once more. This hypocrite,Louis, has concocted a fine scheme to absorb Burgundy into his realm bythis marriage with my daughter. But I'll disappoint his greed. I'llwhisper a secret in your ear, Hymbercourt,--a secret to be told to noone else. I'll execute this treaty of marriage now, and will use mycrafty foe for my own purposes so long as I need him; but when I returnfrom Switzerland, I will divorce my present duchess and take a fruitfulwife who will bear me a son to inherit Burgundy; then King Louis maykeep the girl for his pains."

  The duke laughed, and seemed to feel that he was perpetrating a greatjoke on his rival.

  "But your brother-in-law, Edward of England, may object to having hissister divorced," suggested Hymbercourt.

  "In that case we'll take a page from King Louis' book," answeredCharles. "We'll use gold, Hymbercourt, gold! I shall not, however, likeLouis, buy Edward's ministers! They are too expensive. I'll put none ofmy gold in Hastings's sleeve. I'll pension Shore's wife, and Edward willnot trouble himself about his sister. He prefers other men's sisters. Donot fear, Hymbercourt; the time has come to meet Louis' craftwith craft."

  "And Your Grace's unhappy daughter is to be the shuttlecock, my lord?"suggested Hymbercourt.

  "She will serve her purpose in the weal of Burgundy, as I
do. I give mylife to Burgundy. Why should not this daughter of mine give a few tears?But her tears are unreasonable. Why should she object to this marriage?Even though God should hereafter give me a son, who should cut theprincess out of Burgundy, will she not be queen of France? What morewould the perverse girl have? By God, Hymbercourt, it makes my bloodboil to hear you, a man of sound reason, talk like a fool. I hear thesame maudlin protest from the duchess. She, too, is under the spell ofthis girl, and mourns over her trumped-up grief like a parish priest ata bishop's funeral."

  "But, my lord, consider the creature your daughter is to marry," saidHymbercourt. "He is but a child, less than fourteen years of age, and isweak in mind and body. Surely, it is a wretched fate for your daughter."

  "I tell you the girl is perverse," interrupted the duke. "She wouldraise a storm were the Dauphin a paragon of manliness. He is a poor,mean wretch, whom she may easily rule. His weakness will be heradvantage. She is strong enough, God knows, and wilful enough to facedown the devil himself. If there is a perverse wench on all the earth,who will always have her own way by hook or by crook, it is thistroublesome daughter of mine. She has the duchess wound around herfinger. I could not live with them at Ghent, and sent them here for thesake of peace. When she is queen of France she will also be king of thatrealm--and in God's name what more could the girl ask?"

  "But, my lord, let me beg you to consider well this step before you takeit. I am sure evil will come of it," pleaded Hymbercourt.

  "I have considered," answered the duke. "Let me hear no more of thisrubbish. Two women dinning it into my ears morning, noon, and night arequite enough for my peace of mind. I hear constantly, 'Dear father,don't kill me. Spare your daughter,' and 'Dear my lord, I beg you not tosacrifice the princess, whom I so love.' God's mercy! I say I am tiredof it! This marriage shall take place at once! Now, now, now, do youhear, Hymbercourt? Tell the bishop to write this letter in English. Wewill make the draught as bitter as possible for Louis. He hates thesight of an English word, and small wonder. Direct the bishop to makethe letter short and to the point. Tell him to say the marriage shalltake place _now_. Have him use the word _now_. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, my lord," answered Hymbercourt.

  "Order him to fetch the missive immediately to the apartments of theduchess. It shall be read, signed, and despatched in the presence of mydaughter and my wife, so that they may know what they have to expect.I'll see that I'm bothered no more with their tears and their senselessimportunities."

  "I'll carry out your instructions," said Hymbercourt, bowing and takinghis leave.

  The duke went to his wife's parlor and fell moodily into a chair. Theduchess was sitting on a divan, and the princess was weeping in herarms. After a long silence, broken only by Mary's half-smothered sobs,the duke turned sharply upon the women:--

  "For the love of God, cease your miserable whimpering," growled hislordship. "Is not my life full of vexations without this deluge of tearsat home? A whimpering woman will do more to wear out the life of a manthan a score of battling enemies. Silence, I say; silence, you fools!"

  Mary and the duchess were now unable to control themselves. Charles roseangrily and, with his clenched hand raised for a blow, strode across theroom to the unhappy women. Clinging to each other, the princess andDuchess Margaret crouched low on the divan. Then this great hero, whomthe world worships and calls "The Bold," bent over the trembling womenand upbraided them in language that I will not write.

  "God curse me if I will have my life made miserable by a pair of fools,"cried the duke. "I am wretched enough without this useless annoyance.Enemies abroad and disobedience in my own family will drive me mad!"

  The women slipped from the divan to the floor at the duke's feet, andclung to each other. The duchess covered the princess to protect herfrom the duke's blow, and, alas! took it herself. Charles stepped back,intending to kick his daughter, but the duchess again threw herself onYolanda and again received the blow. By that time the duke's fury wasbeyond all measure, and he stooped to drag his wife from Yolanda that hemight vent his wrath upon the sobbing girl. The duchess, who was ayoung, strong woman, sprang to her feet and placed herself betweenYolanda, lying on the floor, and the infuriated duke.

  "You shall not touch the child, my lord!" cried the duchess. "Though sheis your child, you shall not touch her if I can help it. Twice, my lord,you have almost killed your daughter in your anger, and I have sworn toprevent a recurrence of your brutality or to die in my attempt tosave her."

  She snatched a dagger from her bosom, and spoke calmly: "Now come, mylord; but when you do so, draw your dagger, for, by the Virgin, I willkill you if you do not kill me, before you shall touch that girl. Beforeyou kill me, my lord, remember that my brother of England will tear youlimb from limb for the crime, and that King Louis will gladly help himin the task. Come, my husband! Come, my brave lord! I am but a weakwoman. You may easily kill me, and I will welcome death rather than lifewith you. When I am out of the way, you may work your will on yourdaughter. Because I am your wife, my brother has twice saved you fromKing Louis. You owe your domain and your life to me. I should sell mylife at a glorious price if my death purchased your ruin. Come,my lord!"

  The duke paused with his hand on his dagger; but he knew that hiswife's words were true, and he realized that his ruin would followquickly on the heels of her death.

  "You complain that the world and your own family are against you, mylord," said the duchess. "It is because you are a cruel tyrant abroadand at home. It is because you are against the world and against thosewhom you should protect and keep safe from evil. The fault is with you,Charles of Burgundy. You have spoken the truth. The world hates you, andthis girl--the tenderest, most loving heart on earth--dreads you as hermost relentless enemy. If I were in your place, my lord, I would fallupon my sword."

  Beaten by his wife's just fury, this great war hero walked back to hischair, and the duchess tenderly lifted Mary to the divan.

  "He will not strike you, child," said Margaret. Then she fell to kissingYolanda passionately, and tears came to her relief.

  Poor Yolanda buried her face in her mother's breast and tried to smotherher sobs. Charles sat mumbling blasphemous oaths. At the expiration ofhalf an hour, a page announced the Bishop of Cambrai and othergentlemen. The duke signified that they were to be admitted; and whenthe bishop entered the room, Charles, who was smarting from his latedefeat, spoke angrily:--

  "By the good God, my Lord Bishop, you are slow! Does it require an hourto write a missive of ten lines? If you are as slow in saving souls asin writing letters, the world will go to hell before you can saya mass."

  "The wording was difficult, Your Grace," replied the bishopobsequiously. "The Lord d'Hymbercourt said Your Grace wished the missiveto be written in English, which language my scrivener knows butimperfectly. After it was written I received Your Lordship'sinstructions to use the word 'now,' so I caused the letter to berewritten that I might comply with your wishes."

  "Now" is a small word, but in this instance it was a great one forYolanda, as you shall soon learn.

  "Cease explaining, my Lord Bishop, and read me the missive," said theduke, sullenly.

  The bishop unfolded the missive, which was in a pouch ready for sealing.Yolanda stopped sobbing that she might hear the document that touched soclosely on her fate. Her tear-stained face, with its childlike pathos,but served to increase her father's anger.

  "Read, my Lord Bishop! Body of me, why stand you there like a woodenquintain?" exclaimed the duke. "By all the gods, you are slow! Read,I say!"

  "With pleasure, my lord," answered the bishop.

  "To His Majesty, King Louis of France, Charles, Duke of Burgundy andCount of Charolois, sends this Greeting:--

  "His Grace of Burgundy would recommend himself to His Majesty of France,and would beg to inform the most puissant King Louis that the saidCharles, Duke of Burgundy, will march at the head of a Burgundian armywithin three weeks from the date of these presents, against the Sw
isscantons, with intent to punish the said Swiss for certain depredations.Therefore, the said Charles, Duke of Burgundy and Count of Charolois,begs that His Majesty of France will now move toward the immediateconsummation of the treaty existing between Burgundy and France, lookingto the marriage of the Princess Mary, Mademoiselle de Burgundy, with theprincely Dauphin, son to King Louis; and to these presents said Charles,Duke of Burgundy, requests the honor of an early reply.

  "We recommend Your Majesty to the protection of God, the Blessed Virgin,and the Saints."

  "Words, words, my Lord Bishop," said Charles. "Why waste them on agraceless hypocrite?"

  "I thought only to be courteous," returned the bishop.

  "Why should we show King Louis courtesy?" asked the duke. "Is it becausewe give him our daughter to be the wife of his bandy-shanked,half-witted son? There is small need for courtesy, my Lord Bishop. Wecould not insult this King Louis, should we try, while he sees anadvantage to be gained. Give me the letter, and I will sign it, though Idespise your whimpering courtesy, as you call it."

  Charles took the letter, and, going to a table near a window, drew up achair.

  "Give me a quill," he said, addressing the bishop. "Did you not bringone, my lord?"

  "Your Grace--Your Grace," began the bishop, apologetically.

  "Do you think I am a snivelling scrivener, carrying quill and ink-wellin my gown?" asked the duke. "Go to your parlor and fetch ink andquill," said Charles, pointing with the folded missive toward Yolanda.

  "A page will fetch the quill and ink, my lord," suggested the duchess.

  "Go!" cried the duke, turning angrily on the princess. Yolanda left theroom, weeping, and hastened up the long flight of steps to her parlor.It was the refinement of cruelty in Charles to send Yolanda for thequill with which he was to sign the instrument of her doom.

  Still weeping, Yolanda hurried back with the writing materials, butbefore entering the room she stopped at the door to dry her tears andstay her sobs. When she entered, she said:--

  "There is the quill, father, and there is the ink."

  She placed them before the duke and stood trembling with one hand on thetable. After a moment she spoke in a voice little above a whisper:--"Youwill accomplish nothing, my lord, my father, by sending the letter. Ishall die before this marriage can take place. I am willing to obey you,but, father, I shall die. Ah, father, pity me."

  She fell upon her knees before the duke and tried to put her handsabout his shoulders. He repulsed her, and, taking up the quill, signedthe letter. After he had affixed his signature and had sealed themissive with his private seal, he folded the parchment and handed it tothe bishop, saying:--

  "Seal the pouch, my lord, and send Byron, the herald, here to receiveour personal instructions."

  "The herald has not yet returned from Cambrai, my lord," said De Vergy,who stood near by. "He is expected between the hours of five and sixthis evening."

  "Leave the letter, my lord," said Charles, "and send Byron to me when hearrives. I shall be here at six o'clock to give him full instructions."

  The letter was deposited in a small iron box on the table, and the dukeleft the room, followed closely by the lords and pages.