Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy

by Charles Major

  CHAPTER XVII

  TRIAL BY COMBAT

  Max had waited until Calli's arm was mended to bring up the subject ofthe trial by combat; but when he would have taken it before the duke, Idissuaded him by many pretexts, and for a few days it was dropped. Butsoon it was brought forward in a most unpleasant way. Max and I were inthe streets of Peronne one afternoon, and as we approached a group ofragged boys, one of them cried out:--

  "There is the fellow that challenged Count Calli, but won't fight him!"

  Max turned upon the boy, caught him roughly by the shoulder, and askedhim where he got his information. The frightened boy replied that hisfather was a hostler in the duke's stables, and had heard Count Callisay that the fellow who had challenged him was "all gauntlet butno fight."

  We at once sought Hymbercourt, who, on being closely questioned,admitted that the Italians in the castle were boasting that the strangerwho seemed so eager to fight when Calli's arm was lame, had lost hiscourage now that the arm was healed.

  Of course I was in a deal of trouble over this combat, and heartilywished the challenge had never been given, though I had all faith inMax's strength and skill. I, who had fought constantly for twenty years,had trained him since his tenth birthday. I had not only trained him; Ihad introduced him to the lists at eighteen--he being well grown, strongof limb, and active as a wildcat. I waged him against a famous tilt-yardknight, and Max held his own manfully, to his great credit and to mygreat joy. The battle was a draw. My first great joy in life came a fewmonths afterward, when Max unhorsed this same knight, and received thecrown of victory from the queen of the lists.

  But this combat would be a battle of death. Two men would enter thelists; one would die in the course.

  Max could, with propriety, announce his title and refuse to fight one sofar beneath him as Calli; but even my love for the boy and my fear ofthe outcome, could not induce me to advise this. The advice would havebeen little heeded had I given it. Max was not one in whose heart hatredcould thrive, but every man should have a just sense of injury received,and no one should leave all vengeance to God. In Max's heart this sensewas almost judicial. The court of his conscience had convicted Calli ofan unforgivable crime, and he felt that it was his God-appointed duty tocarry out the sentence.

  While I had all faith in Max's strength and skill, I also knew Calli tobe a strong, time-hardened man, well used to arms. What his skill was, Icould not say, but fame proclaimed it great. It would need to be greatto kill Max, boy though he was, but accidents are apt to happen in thelists, and Calli was treacherous. I was deep in trouble, but I saw noway out but for Max to fight. So, on the morning after our conversationwith Hymbercourt, Max and I sought admission to the duke's audience.Charles had been privately told of our purpose and of course wasdelighted at the prospect of a battle to the death.

  A tournament with, mayhap, a few broken heads furnished him greatenjoyment; but a real battle between two men, each seeking the other'slife, was such keen pleasure to his savage, blood-loving nature, thatits importance could hardly be measured. Charles would have postponedhis war against the Swiss, I verily believe, rather than miss thiscombat between Max and Calli.

  The duke hurried through the business of the morning, and then turnedtoward Max, signifying that his time had come. Max stepped before theducal throne, made his obeisance, and said:--

  "May it please Your Highness to recall a wage of battle given by me someweeks ago, in this hall and in this august presence, to one who callshimself Count Calli? The cause of my complaint against the said Calli Ineed not here rehearse. I have waited to repeat my defiance until suchtime as Count Calli's arm should mend. I am told that he is now strong;and, most gracious Lord Charles, Duke of Burgundy, I again offer my wageof battle against this said knight and demand the trial by combat."

  Thereupon he drew an iron gauntlet from his girdle and threw it clankingon the stone floor. The gauntlet lay untouched for the space of a minuteor two; and the duke turned toward Calli and Campo-Basso, who stoodsurrounded by their Italian friends at the right of the throne. After along pause Charles said:--

  "Will Count Calli lift the gage, or shall we appoint a court of heraldryto determine whether or no the combat shall take place?"

  There was a whispered conversation among the Italians, after whichCampo-Basso addressed the duke.

  "My most gracious lord," said he, "the noble Count Calli is loath tolift the gage of an unknown man, and would make bold to say that he willnot do so until he is satisfied that he who so boastingly offers it isworthy in blood, station, and knighthood to stand before him."

  "For all that I will stand surety," said Hymbercourt, turning to theduke and to Campo-Basso.

  "The Lord d'Hymbercourt's honor is beyond reproach," replied theItalian, "but Count Calli must have other proof."

  Hymbercourt was about to make an angry reply, but he was silenced by theduke's uplifted hand.

  "We will ourself be surety for this knight," said Charles.

  "We cannot gainsay Your Lordship's surety, most gracious duke," returnedCampo-Basso; "but with all meekness and humility we would suggest, withYour Grace's permission, that when a man jeopards his life againstanother he feels it his right to know at least his foe's name."

  "Count Calli must content himself with knowing that the knight's name isSir Maximilian du Guelph. If Count Calli is right and his cause just,God will give him victory, and the whole world shall know of his deed.If he is in the wrong and his cause unjust, may God have mercy onhis soul."

  A long pause ensued during which Max stood before the duke, a noblefigure of manly beauty worthy the chisel of a Greek sculptor. Theshutter in the ladies' gallery was ajar and I caught a glimpse ofYolanda's pale, tear-stained face as she looked down upon the man sheloved, who was to put his life in peril to avenge her wrong.

  "We are wasting time, Count Calli," spoke the duke. "Take up the gage ordemand a court. The charge made by Sir Max will certainly justify acourt of chivalry in ordering the combat. The truth or falsity of thatcharge you and Sir Max must prove on each other's bodies. His desire toremain unknown the court will respect; he has ample precedent. If youare convinced by the word of our Lord d'Hymbercourt and myself that heis of birth and station worthy to engage with you in knightly and mortalcombat, you can ask no more. Few courts of chivalry, I take it, wouldhold the evidence inconclusive. Take up or leave the gage, Sir Count,and do one or the other at once."

  Calli walked over to the gauntlet and, taking it from the floor, held itin his right hand while he bent his knee before the duke. He did notlook toward Max, but turned in the direction of his friends and tuckedthe gauntlet in his girdle as he strode away.

  "We appoint this day twelve days, on a Sunday afternoon, for thecombat," said Charles. "Then these men shall do their endeavor, eachupon the other; and may God give victory to the right!"

  * * * * *

  That evening, as usual, Max and I were at Castleman's. Yolanda did notcome down till late, but when she came she clung silently to Max, andthere was a deep pathos in her every word and glance. As we left, I wentback and whispered hurriedly to her:--

  "Have no fear, dear one. Our Max will take no harm."

  My words were bolder than my heart, but I thought to comfort her.

  "I have no fear, Sir Karl," she said, in a trembling voice. "There is noman so strong and brave as Max. He is in the right, and God is just. TheBlessed Virgin, too, will help him. It would be sacrilege to doubt her.I do not doubt. I do not fear, Sir Karl, but, oh, my friend--" Here sheburied her face on my breast and wept convulsively. Her words, too, hadbeen bolder than her heart--far bolder.

  The brooding instinct in me--the faint remnant of mother love, that kindProvidence has left in every, good man's heart--longed to comfort herand bear her pains. But I was powerless to help her, and, after all, hersuffering was wholesome. In a moment she continued, sobbing whileshe spoke:--

  "But--oh! if by any mischance Max should fall; if by
treachery oraccident--oh, Sir Karl, my heart is breaking. Do not let Max fight."These words were from her woman's heart. "His station will excuse him,but if the affair has gone too far for him to withdraw, tell him to--toleave Burgundy, to run away, to--"

  "Yolanda, what are you saying?" I asked. "Would you not rather see himdead than a coward?"

  "No, no, Sir Karl," she cried, wrought almost to a frenzy by her griefand fear. "No, no, anything but dead."

  "Listen to reason, Yolanda," I answered. "I, who love Max more than Ilove the blood of my heart, would kill him with my own hand rather thanhave cause to call him coward and speak the truth."

  "No, no," she cried desperately, grasping my hand. "Do not let himfight. Ah, Sir Karl, if you bear me any love, if my grief and unhappylot have touched your heart, even on the smallest spot, I pray you, dothis thing for me. Do not let Max fight with this Count Calli. IfMax falls--"

  "But Max will not fall," I answered boldly. "He has overthrown bettermen than Calli."

  "Has he? Ah, tell me, has he? He is little more than a boy. I seem olderthan he at times, and it is hard to believe what you say, though I knowhe is strong, and that fear has no place in his heart. Tell me, whom hashe overthrown?"

  "Another time, Yolanda," I responded soothingly, "but this I say now tocomfort you. Calli is no match for our Max. In the combat that is tocome, Max can kill him if he chooses, barring accidents and treachery.Over and above his prowess, his cause, you know, is just, and for thatreason God will be with him."

  "Yes, yes," sobbed Yolanda, "and the Virgin, too."

  The Virgin was a woman in whom she could find a woman's sympathy. Shetrusted God and stood in reverent awe of Him; but one could easily seethat the Virgin held her heart and was her refuge in time of trouble.When I turned to leave she called me back, saying:--

  "I have a mind to tell Max the truth--to tell him who I am."

  "I would not do so now," I answered, fearing, perhaps with good reason,the effect of the disclosure on Max. "After the combat, if you wish totell him--"

  "But if he should fall?" said the girl, beginning to weep again andclinging desperately to my arm. "If he should fall, not knowing whoI am?"

  "Max will not fall, Yolanda. Dismiss that fear from your heart."

  My bold words served a double purpose. They at least partially satisfiedYolanda, and they strengthened me.

  Of course Max and I at once began to prepare for the combat. The chargerwe had captured from the robbers on the Rhine now came to our hand as ifsent by Providence. He was a large, active horse, with limbs like steel.He was an intelligent animal, too, and a good brain is almost asvaluable in a horse as in a man. He had evidently borne arms all hislife, for when we tried him in the tilt-yard we found him trained atevery point.

  There was no heavy plate at the Peronne armorer's large enough for Max,so Hymbercourt dropped a hint to Duke Charles, and His Grace sent twobeautiful suits to our inn. One was of Barcelona make, the other an oldsuit which we judged had come from Damascus. I tried the latter with mysword, and spoiled a good blade. Although the Damascus armor was tooheavy by a stone, we chose it, and employed an armorer to tighten a fewnuts, and to adjust new straps to the shoulder plates and arm pieces.

  We caused lists to be built outside the walls, and Max worked eighthours a day to harden himself. He ran against me, against our squires,who were lusty big fellows, and now and then against Hymbercourt, whowas a most accomplished knight.

  Yolanda was prone to coax Max not to fight, and her fear showed itselfin every look and gesture. Her words, of course, could not have turnedhim, but her fears might have undermined his self-confidence. So Ipointed out to her the help he would get from encouragement, and thepossible hurt he would take were her fears to infect him. After myadmonition, her efforts to be cheerful and confident almost broughttears to my eyes. She would sing, but her song was joyless. She wouldbanter Max and would run imaginary courses with him, taking the part ofCalli, and always falling dead at Max's feet; but the moment ofrelaxation brought a haunting, terrified expression to her eyes. Thecorners of her sweet mouth would droop, effacing the cluster of dimplesthat played about her lips, and the fair, childish face, usually sojoyful, wore the mask of grief. For the first time in her life realhappiness had come, not within her grasp, but within sight; and thiscombat might snatch it from her.

  Once when I was helping Max to buckle on his armor for a bout atpractice, he said:--

  "Yolanda seems to treat this battle as a jest. She laughs and banters meas if it were to be a justing bout. I wonder if she really has a heart?"

  "Max, I am surprised at your dulness," I said. "Do you not see hermanner is assumed, though her fear is small because of her great faithin your prowess?"

  "I'll try to deserve her faith," answered Max.

  * * * * *

  When at last the day arrived, Max was in prime condition. At the inn wecarefully adjusted the armor and fitted it on him. One of our squiresled the charger, carefully trapped, to the lists, which had been builtin an open field outside the town, west of the castle.

  Max and I, accompanied by Hymbercourt and two other friends, rode downto Castleman's, and Max entered the house for a few minutes. Yolanda hadtold him that she would not be at the lists, and Max felt that it werebetter so.

  Twonette and her father had gone to the lists when we reached the Houseunder the Wall, but Yolanda and Frau Kate were awaiting us. There was abrief greeting and a hurried parting--tearful on Yolanda's part. Then werode around to the Postern and entered the courtyard of the castle.Crossing the courtyard, we passed out through the great gate at thekeep, and soon stood demanding admission to the lists.

  The course was laid off north and south, the sun being in the southwest.The hour of battle was fixed at four o'clock, and the combat was tocontinue till sundown, if neither champion fell before that time. Thepavilion for the duke and the other spectators was built at the westside of the false lists--a strip of ground ten feet wide, extendingentirely around the true lists, but separated from it by a barrier orrailing three feet high.

  It was an hour after we left Castleman's house before Max and I enteredthe false lists. As I expected, the princess was sitting in the pavilionwith her father and Duchess Margaret. A veil partly concealed herfeatures, and when Max rode down the false lists to make his obeisancebefore the duke and the duchess, he could not know that the white faceof Yolanda looked down upon him. I was sorry to see the princess in thepavilion, because I knew that if an untoward fate should befall Max, ademonstration would surely follow in the ducal gallery.

  At the gate of the true lists, Max was met by a priest, who heard hisoath, and by a herald, who read the laws and the agreement relating tothe combat. A court of heraldry had decided that three lances should bebroken, after which the champions, if both alive, should dismount andcontinue the fight with battle-axes of whatever weight they mightchoose. If either knight should be disabled, it was the other's rightto kill him.

  After Max had entered the true lists the gates were closed, andHymbercourt, myself, and our squires stood outside the barrier at thenorth end of the false lists,--the north being Max's station onthe course.

  Max sat his charger, lance in rest; Calli waited in the south, and thesetwo faced each other with death between them.

  When all was ready the heralds raised their banners, and the duke gavethe word of battle. There was a moment of deep silence, broken by thethunder of tramping hoofs, as horses and men rushed upon each other.Calli and Max met in mid-course, and the din of their contact was likethe report of a cannon. Each horse fell back upon its haunches; eachrider bent back upon his horse. Two tough yule lances burst into ahundred splinters. Then silence ensued, broken after a moment by a stormof applause from the pavilion.

  The second course was like the first, save that Max nearly unhorsedCalli by a marvellous helmet stroke. The stroke loosened Calli's helmetby breaking a throat-strap, but neither he nor his friends seemed tonotice the mishap,
and the third course was begun without remedying it.When the champions were within ten yards of each other, a report likethe discharge of an arquebuse was heard, coming apparently from beneaththe pavilion. I could not say whence the report came--I was too intentupon the scene in the lists to be thoroughly conscious of happeningselsewhere--but come it did from somewhere, and Max's fine chargerplunged forward on the lists, dead. Max fell over his horse's head andlay half-stunned upon the ground.

  Above the din rose a cry, a frantic scream, that fairly pierced myheart. Well I knew the voice that uttered it. The people in the pavilionrose to their feet, and cries of "Treachery! treachery!" came from alldirections. Calli was evidently expecting the shot, for just before itcame he reined in his horse, and when Max fell the Italian instantlybrought his charger to a standstill and began to dismount with all thespeed his heavy armor would permit. When safely down, he unclasped hisbattle-axe from the chain that held it to his girdle and started towardMax, who was lying prone upon the ground. Cries of "Shame! shame!" camefrom the pavilion, but no one, not even the duke, dared to interfere; itwas Calli's right to kill Max if he could.

  I had covered my eyes with my hand, thinking that surely the boy's hourhad come. I removed my hand when I heard the scream, and I have thankedGod ever since for prompting me to do that little act, for I saw themost beautiful sight that my eyes have ever beheld. Calli had reachedhis prostrate foe and was standing over him with battle-axe uplifted todeal the blow of death. At that same moment Yolanda sprang from theduke's side, cleared the low railing in front of the ducal box, andjumped to the false lists six or eight feet below. Her gown of scarletand gold shone with dazzling radiance in the sunlight.

  Calli was facing the pavilion, and Yolanda's leap probably attracted hisattention. However that may have been--perhaps it was because of Calli'shaste, perhaps it was the will of God--the blow fell short, and Calli'sbattle-axe, glancing from Max's helmet, buried itself in the hardground. While Calli was struggling to release his axe, Yolanda clearedthe low barrier of the true lists, sped across the intervening spacelike a flash of red avenging flame, and reached Max not one second toosoon, for Calli's axe was again uplifted. She fell upon Max, and had theaxe descended she would have received the blow. Calli stepped back insurprise, his heel caught on the toe of Max's iron boot, he fell proneupon his back, and the weight of his armor prevented him from risingquickly. The glancing blow on Max's helmet had roused him, and when hemoved Yolanda rose to her knees beside him.

  "Let me help you," she cried, lifting Max's mailed hand to her shoulder;Max did so, and by help of the frail girl he drew himself to his kneesand then to his feet. Meantime, Calli was attempting to rise. I canstill see the terrible picture. Calli's panting horse stood near by withdrooping head. Max's charger lay quivering in the convulsions of death.Calli, whose helmet had dropped from his head when he fell, lay restingon his elbow, half risen and bareheaded. Max stood deliberately takinghis battle-axe from his girdle chain, while Yolanda still knelt at hisfeet. Battle-axe in hand, Max stepped toward Calli, who had risen to hisknees. The expression on the Italian's face I shall never forget. Withbared head and upturned face he awaited the death that he knew hedeserved. Max lifted his battle-axe to give the blow. I wondered if hewould give it. He lowered the axe, and a shout went up from thepavilion:--

  "Kill him! Kill him!"

  He lifted the axe again, and a silence like the hush of death fell uponthe shouting audience. Again Max hesitated, and I distinctly heardYolanda, who was still upon her knees, whisper:--

  "Kill him! Kill him!"

  Then came the shouts of a thousand voices, thrilling me to the marrow:--

  "Kill him! Kill him!" and I knew that if I were standing in Max's shoes,Calli would die within a moment. I also remember wondering in a flash ofthought if Max were great enough to spare him. Again the battle-axe cameslowly down, and the din in the pavilion was deafening:--

  "Kill him! Kill him!"

  Again the battle-axe rose; but after a pause, Max let it fall to theground behind him; and, turning toward the girl, lifted her with hismailed hands to her feet. When she had risen Max looked into her face,and, falling back a step, exclaimed in a voice hushed by wonder:--

  "Yolanda!"

  His words coming to the girl's ears, like a far-away sound, from thecavernous recesses of his helmet, frightened her.

  "No, no, my name is not Yolanda. You are mistaken. You do not know me.I--I am the princess. You do not know me."

  Her words were prompted by two motives: she wished to remain unknown toMax, and she feared lest her father should come to know that a greatpart of her life was spent as a burgher girl. Her hands were clasped ather breast; her face was as pale as a gray dawn; her breath came infeeble gusts, and her words fell haltingly from her lips. She took twosteps forward, her eyes closed, and she began to fall. Max caught herand lifted her in his strong arms. On great occasions persons often dotrivial acts. With Yolanda held tightly in the embrace of his left arm,Max stooped to the ground and picked up his battle-axe with his righthand. Then he strode to the north end of the lists and placed the girlin my arms.

  "Yolanda," he said, intending to tell me of his fair burden.

  "No, Max," I whispered, as he unfastened his helmet. "Not Yolanda, butthe princess. The two resemble each other greatly."

  "Yolanda," returned Max, doggedly. "I know her as a mother knows herfirst-born."

  Not one hundred seconds had elapsed between the report of the arquebuseand the placing of Yolanda in my arms; but hardly had Max finishedspeaking when a dozen ladies crowded about us and took possession of theunconscious princess.

  After the duke had set on foot a search for the man who had fired thearquebuse, he came down to the false lists and stood with Hymbercourtand me, discussing the event. Campo-Basso said that his heart was "sorewith grief," and the Italians jabbered like monkeys. One of them wantedto kiss Max for sparing his kinsman's life, but Max thrust him off witha fierce oath. The young fellow was in an ugly mood, and if I had beenhis enemy, I would sooner have crossed the path of a wounded lion thanhis. He was slow to anger, but the treachery he had encountered hadraised all of Satan that was in him. Had he stood before Calli thirtyseconds longer that treacherous heart would have ceased to beat.

  While we were standing in the false lists, speaking with the duke, anItalian approached Max, bowed low, and said:--

  "The noble Count Calli approaches to thank you for your mercy and toextol your bravery."

  Max turned his head toward the centre of the course, and saw Callisurrounded by a crowd of jabbering friends who were leading him towardus. A black cloud--a very mist from hell--came over Max's face. Hestooped and took his battle-axe from the ground. I placed my hand on theboy's arm and warningly spoke his name:--

  "Max!" After a pause I continued, "Leave murder to the Italians."

  Max uttered a snort of disdain, but, as usual, he took my advice. Heturned to Campo-Basso, still grasping his battle-axe:--

  "Keep that fellow away from me," he said, pointing toward Calli. "Mymerciful mood was brief. By the good God who gave me the villain's life,I will kill him if he comes within reach of my axe."

  An Italian ran to the men who had Calli in charge, and they turned atonce and hurried toward the south gate of the lists. All this action wasvery rapid, consuming only a minute or two, and transpired in much lesstime than it requires to tell of it.

  While our squires were removing Max's armor, I heard the duke say:--

  "Arrest Calli. We will hold him until the shot is explained. If he wasprivy to it, he shall hang or boil." Then the duke, placing his hand onMax's shoulder, continued: "You are the best knight in Christendom, thebravest, the most generous, and the greatest fool. Think you Calli wouldhave spared you, boy?"

  "I am not Calli, my lord," said Max.

  "You certainly are not," returned the duke.

  Visions of trouble with France growing out of Yolanda's "t," and of asubsequent union between Max and the princess, floated
before my mind,even amidst the din that surrounded me. Taking the situation by andlarge, I was in an ecstasy of joy. Max's victory was a thousandtriumphs in one. It was a triumph over his enemy, a triumph over hisfriends, but, above all, a triumph over himself. He had proved himselfbrave and merciful, and I knew that in him the world had a man who wouldleave it better and happier than he found it.

  Calli was arrested and brought to the duke's presence. Of course hedenied all knowledge of the shot that had killed Max's horse. Otherswere questioned, including three Italian friars wearing cassocks andcowls, who bore a most wondrous testimony.

  "Your Grace," said one of the friars, "we three men of God can explainthis matter that so nearly touches the honor of our fair countryman, thenoble Count Calli."

  "In God's name, do so," exclaimed the duke.

  "This is the explanation, most gracious lord. When the third course waspreparing, we three men of God prayed in concert to God theFather,"--all the friars crossed themselves,--"God the Son, and God theHoly Ghost, to save our countryman, and lo! our prayers were mostgraciously answered; for, noble lord, at the moment when this mostvaliant knight was about to kill our friend, we each heard a reportmarvellously like to the discharge of an arquebuse. At the same instanta fiery shaft descended from the palm of a mighty hand in the heavens,and the horse of this valiant and most generous knight, Sir Max, felldead, stricken by the hand of God."

  I had no doubt that this absurd explanation would be received withscorn and derision; but the friar knew his audience, and I did not. Hisstatement was not really accepted as true, but it was not cast aside asutterly absurd. I saw that it might easily be believed.

  "Why did not others see your wondrous shaft from the hand of God?" Iasked.

  "Because, noble lord," answered the friar, "our eyes were looking upwardin prayer. All others were fixed on this worldly combat."

  The explanation actually seemed to explain.

  Just then the men who had been sent out to seek evidence concerning theshot returned, and reported that no arquebuse was to be found. The listswere surrounded by an open field, and a man endeavoring to escape wouldhave been seen.

  "Did you search all places of possible concealment for an arquebuse?"asked the duke.

  "All, my lord," answered the men, who were Burgundians and to betrusted.

  Faith in the friars absurd story was rapidly gaining ground, and severalof the Italian courtiers, emboldened by encouragement, affirmed upontheir hope of salvation and their knightly honor that they, too, hadwitnessed the descent of the shaft from heaven. Touch a man on hissuperstitions, and he will believe anything you tell him. If you assurehim that an honest friend has told you so and so, he may doubt you, buttell him that God tells you, and he will swallow your hook. If you wouldhave your lie believed, tell a great one.

  Charles, more credulous and gullible than I should have believed, turnedto Hymbercourt. He spoke reverentially, being, you understand, in thepresence of a miracle:--

  "This is a wondrous happening, my lord," said the duke.

  "If it happened, Your Grace," returned Hymbercourt, "it certainly wasmarvellous."

  "Don't you think it did happen? Do not you believe that this bolt camefrom the hand that was seen by these worthy friars?" asked the duke.

  "The shaft surely did not come from a just God, my lord," returnedHymbercourt.

  "Whence, then, did it come?" asked the duke. "No arquebuse has beenfound, and a careful scrutiny has been made."

  "Aye!" echoed the friars. "Whence else did it come? Whence, my Lordd'Hymbercourt, whence?"

  I had noticed our Irish servant Michael standing near one of the friars.At this point in the conversation the Irishman plucked me by the sleeve,pointed to a friar, and whispered a word in my ear. Like a stone from acatapult I sprang on the friar indicated, threw him to the ground, anddrew from under his black cassock an arquebuse.

  "Here is the shaft from God!" I exclaimed, holding the arquebuse up toview. Then I kneeled on the prostrate wretch and clutched his throat.Anger gathered in my brain as lightning clusters about a mountain top. Ithrew aside the arquebuse and proceeded to kill the canting mendicant. Ido not know that I killed him; I hope I did. I cannot speak withcertainty on that point, for I was quickly thrown away from him by theavenging mob that rushed upon us and tore the fellow limb from limb. Theother friars were set upon by the populace that had witnessed the combatfrom without the lists, and were beaten so unmercifully that one of themdied. Of the other's fate I know nothing, but I have my secret desires.

  "Kill the Italians! Murder the assassins! Down with the mercenaries,"cried the populace, who hated the duke's guard. The barriers were brokendown, and an interesting battle ensued. Surely the people got their fullsatisfaction of blood and excitement that day. The Italians drew theirswords, but, being separated, they were at a disadvantage, though theirassailants carried only staves. I expected the duke to stop the fight,but he withdrew to a little distance and watched it with evidentinterest. My interest was more than evident; it was uproarious. I havenever spent so enjoyable a day. The fight raged after Max and I left,and there was many a sore head and broken bone that night among theItalian mercenaries of the Duke of Burgundy.

  When Max and I returned to Peronne, we went to the noble church of St.Jean and offered our humble gratitude. Max, having thrown off his anger,proposed to buy a mass for the dead friar; but I was for leaving him inpurgatory where he belonged, and Max, as usual, took my advice.

  On reaching the inn, Max cried loudly for supper. His calmness wouldhave done credit to a hardened warrior. There was at least one hardenedwarrior that was not calm. I was wrought almost to a pitch of frenzy andcould not eat, though the supper prepared by Grote was a marvel in itsway. The old man, usually grave and crusty, after the manner of Germanhosts, actually bent his knee to Max and said:--

  "My poor house has entertained kings and princes; but never has it hadso great an honor as that which it now has in sheltering you."

  That night the duke came with Hymbercourt to honor us at the inn. Eachspoke excitedly and warmly. Max seemed to be the only calm manin Peronne.