Two Penniless Princesses

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER 11. FETTERS BROKEN

  Then long and loud the victor shout From turret and from tower rang out; The rugged walls replied. SCOTT, Lord of the Isles.

  'Sir, I have something to show you.'

  It was the early twilight of a summer's morning when Ringan crept up tothe shelter of pine branches under which George Douglas was sleeping,after hotly opposing Gebhardt, who had nearly persuaded his master thatretreat was inevitable, unless he meant to be deserted by more than halfhis men.

  George sat up. 'Anent the ladies?' he said.

  Ringan bowed his head, with an air of mystery and George doubted nolonger, but let him lead the way, keeping among the brushwood to thefoot of the quarry whence the castle had been built. It had once beenabsolutely precipitous, no doubt, but the stone was of a soft quality,on which weather told: ivy and creepers had grown on it, and Ringanpointed to what to dwellers on plains might have seemed impracticable,but to those who had bird's-nested on the crags of Tantallon had quite adifferent appearance. True, there was castle wall and turret above, buton this, the weather side, there had likewise been a slight crumbling,which had been neglected, perhaps from over security, perhaps on accountof the extreme difficulty of repairing, where there was the merest ledgefor foothold above the precipitous quarry; indeed, the condition of theplace might never even have been perceived by the inhabitants, as therewere no traces of the place below having been frequented.

  'Tis a mere staircase as far as the foot of the walls compared with theGuillemot's crag,' observed Ringan.

  'And a man with a heart and a foot could be up the wall in the cornerwhere the ivy grows,' added George. 'It is well, Ringan, thou hast donegood service. Here is the way.'

  'With four or five of our own tall carles, we may win the castle, andlaugh at the German pock-puddings,' added Ringan. 'Let them gang theirgate, and we'll free our leddies.'

  George was tempted, but he shook his head. 'That were scarce knightlytowards the Duke,' he said. 'He has been gude friend to me, and I maynot thus steal a march on him. Moreover, we ken na the strength of theloons within.'

  'I misdoot there being mair than ten of them,' said Ringan. 'I haveseen the same faces too often for there to be many. And what there be weshall take napping.'

  That was true; nevertheless George Douglas felt bound in honour not toundertake the enterprise without the cognisance of his ally, thoughhe much doubted the Germans being alert or courageous enough to takeadvantage of such a perilous clamber.

  Sigismund had a tent under the pine-trees, and a guard before theentrance, who stood, halbert in hand, like a growling statue, whenthe young Scot would have entered, understanding not one word of hisobjurgations in mixed Scotch and French, but only barring the way, tillSigismund's own 'Wer da?' sounded from within.

  'Moi--George of Angus!' shouted that individual in his awkward French.'Let me in, Sir Duke; I have tidings!'

  Sigismund was on foot in a moment. 'And from King Eene?' he asked.

  'Far better, strong heart and steady foot can achieve the adventure andsave the ladies unaided! Come with me, beau sire! Silently.'

  George had fully expected to see the German quail at the frightfulprecipice and sheer wall before him, but the Hapsburg was primarilya Tirolean mountaineer, and he measured the rock with a glisteningtriumphant eye.

  'Man can,' he said. 'That will we. Brave sire, your hand on it.'

  The days were almost at their longest, and it was about five in themorning, the sun only just making his way over the screen of the higherhills to the north-east, though it had been daylight for some time.

  Prudence made the two withdraw under the shelter of the woods, and therethey built their plan, both young men being gratified to do so withouttheir two advisers.

  Neither of them doubted his own footing, and George was sure thatthree or four of the men who had come with Sir Robert were equally goodcragsmen. Sigismund sighed for some Tirolese whom he had left at home,but he had at least one man with him ready to dare any height; and hethought a rope would make all things sure. Nothing could be attemptedtill the next night, or rather morning, and Sigismund decided on sendinga messenger down to the Franciscans to borrow or purchase a rope, whileGeorge and Ringan, more used to shifts, proceeded to twist together allthe horses' halters they could collect, so as to form a strong cable.

  To avert suspicion, Sigismund appeared to have yielded to the murmursof his people, and sent more than half his troop down the hill, in theexpectation that he was about to follow. The others were withdrawn underone clump of wood, the Scotsmen under another, with orders to advanceupon the gateway of the castle so soon as they should hear a summonsfrom the Duke's bugle, or the cry, 'A Douglas!' Neither Sir Gebhardt norSir Robert was young enough or light enough to attempt the climb, eachwould fain have withheld his master, had it been possible, but theywould have their value in dealing with the troop waiting below.

  So it came to pass that when Eleanor, anxious, sorrowful, heated, andweary, awoke at daydawn and crept from the side of her sleeping sisterto inhale a breath of morning breeze and murmur a morning prayer, as shegazed from her loophole over the woods with a vague, never-quenchablehope of seeing something, she became aware of something very stealthybelow--the rustling of a fox, or a hare in the fern mayhap, though shecould not see to the bottom of the quarry, but she clung to thebar, craned forward, and beheld far down a shaking of the ivy andwhite-flowered rowan; then a hand, grasping the root of a little sturdybirch, then a yellow head gradually drawn up, till a thin, bony, alertfigure was for a moment astride on the birch. Reaching higher, thesunburnt, freckled face was lifted up, and Eleanor's heart gave a greatthrob of hope. Was it not the wild boy, Ringan Raefoot? She could notturn away her head, she durst not even utter a word to thosewithin, lest it should be a mere fancy, or a lad from the countrybird's-nesting. Higher, higher he went, lost for a moment among theleaves and branches, then attaining a crag, in some giddy manner. But,but--what was that head under a steel cap that had appeared on the tree?What was that face raised for a moment? Was it the face of the dead?Eleanor forced back a cry, and felt afraid of wakening herself from whatshe began to think only a blissful dream,--all the more when that lengthof limb had reared itself, and attained to the dizzy crag above. Afairer but more solid face, with a long upper lip, appeared, mounting inits turn. She durst not believe her eyes, and she was not conscious ofmaking any sound, unless it was the vehement beating of her own heart;but perhaps it was the power of her own excitement that communicateditself to her sleeping sister, for Jean's voice was heard, 'What is it,Elleen; what is it?'

  She signed back with her hand to enjoin silence, for her sense began totell her that this must be reality, and that castles had before nowbeen thus surprised by brave Scotsmen. Jean was out of bed and at theloophole in a moment. There was room for only one, and Eleanor yieldedthe place, the less reluctantly that the fair head had reached thepart veiled by the tree, and Jean's eyes would be an evidence that sheherself might trust her own sight.

  Jean's glance first fell on the backs of the ascending figures, nowabove the crag. 'Ah! ah!' she cried, under her breath, 'a surprise--arescue! Oh! the lad--stretching, spreading! The man below is holding hisfoot. Oh! that tuft of grass won't bear him. His knees are up. Yes--yes!he is even with the top of the wall now. Elleen! Hope! Brave laddie!Why--'tis--yes--'tis Ringan. Now the other, the muckle carle--Ah!' andthen a sudden breathless silence came over her.

  Eleanor knew she had recognised that figure!

  Madame de Ste. Petronelle was awake now, asking what this meant.

  'Deliverance!' whispered Eleanor. 'They are scaling the wall. Oh, Jean,one moment--'

  'I canna, I canna,' cried Jean, grasping the iron bar with all hermight: 'I see his face; he is there on the ledge, at fit of the wall, inlife and strength. Ringan--yes, Ringan is going up the wall like a cat!'

  'Where is he? Is he safe--the Duke, I would say?' gasped Eleanor. 'Oh,let me see, Jeanie.'

 
'The Duke, is it? Ah! Geordie is giving a hand to help him on theground. Tak' tent, tak' tent, Geordie. Dinna coup ower. Ah! they arebaith there, and one--two--three muckle fellows are coming after them.'

  'Climbing up there!' exclaimed the Dame, bustling up. 'God speed them.Those are joes worth having, leddies!'

  'There! there--Geordie is climbing now. St. Bride speed him, and hidethem. Well done, Duke! He hoisted him so far. Now his hand is onthat broken stone. Up! up! His foot is in the cleft now! Hishand--oh!--clasps the ivy! God help him! Ah, he feels about. Yes, he hasit. Now--now the top of the battlement. I see no more. They are lettingdown a rope. Your Duke disna climb like my Geordie, Elleen!'

  'Oh, for mercy's sake, to your prayers, dinna wrangle about your joes,bairns,' cried Madame de Ste. Petronelle. 'The castle's no won yet!'

  'But is as good as won,' said Eleanor. 'There are barely twelve fightingmen in it, and sorry loons are the maist. How many are up yet, Jeanie?'

  'There's a fifth since the Duke yet to come up,' answered Jean, 'eightaltogether, counting the gallant Ringan. There!'

  ''Tis the warder's horn. They have been seen!' and the poor womenclasped their hands in fervent prayer, with ears intent; but Jeansuddenly darted towards her clothes, and they hastily attiredthemselves, then cautiously peeped out at their door, since neithersight nor sound came to them from either window. The guard who hadhindered their passage was no longer there, and Jean led the way downthe spiral stairs. At the slit looking into the court they heardcries and the clash of arms, but it was too high above their heads foranything to be seen, and they hastened on.

  There also in the narrow court was a fight going on--but nearlyended. Geordie Douglas knelt over the prostrate form of Rudiger vonBalchenburg, calling on him to yield, but meeting no answer. One or twoother men lay overthrown, three or four more were pressed up againsta wall, howling for mercy. Sigismund was shouting to them inGerman--Ringan and the other assailants standing guard over them; butevidently hardly withheld from slaughtering them. The maidens stoodfor a moment, then Jean's scream of welcome died on her lips, for ashe looked up from his prostrate foe, and though he had not yet eitherspoken or risen, Sigismund had stepped to his side, and laid his swordon his shoulder.

  'Victor!' said he, 'in the name of God and St. Mary, I make theeChevalier. Rise, Sire George of Douglas!'

  'True knight!' cried Jean, leaping to his side. 'Oh, Geordie, Geordie,thou hast saved us! Thou noblest knight!'

  'Ah! Lady, it canna be helpit,' said the new knight. ''Tis no treasonto your brother to be dubbed after a fair fight, though 'tis by a Dutchprince.'

  'Thy King's sister shall mend that, and bind your spurs,' said Jean. 'Isthe reiver dead, Geordie?'

  'Even so,' was the reply. 'My sword has spared his craig from thehalter.'

  Such were the times, and such Jean's breeding, that she looked at thefallen enemy much as a modern lady may look at a slain tiger.

  Eleanor had meantime met Sigismund with, 'Ah! well I knew that you wouldcome to our aid. So true a knight must achieve the adventure!'

  'Safe, safe, I am blessed and thankful,' said the Duke, falling on oneknee to kiss her hand. 'How have these robbers treated my Lady?'

  'Well, as well as they know how. That good woman has been very kindto us,' said Eleanor, as she saw Barbe peeping from the stair. 'Comehither, Barbe and Trudchen, to the Lord Duke's mercy.'

  They were entering the hall, and, at the same moment, the gates werethrown open, and the men waiting with Gebhardt and Robert Douglas beganto pour in. It was well for Barbe and her daughter that they could takeshelter behind the ladies, for the men were ravenous for some prize, orsomething to wreak their excitement upon, besides the bare walls of thecastle, and its rude stores of meal and beer. The old Baron was hauleddown from his bed by half-a-dozen men, and placed before the Duke withbound hands.

  'Hola, Siege!' said he in German, all unabashed. 'You have got me atlast--by a trick! I always bade Rudiger look to that quarry; but youngmen think they know best.'

  'The old traitor!' said George in French. 'Hang him from his tower for awarning to his like, as we should do in Scotland.'

  'What cause have you to show why we should not do as saith the knight?'said Sigismund.

  'I care little how it goes with my old carcase now,' returnedBalchenburg, in the spirit of the Amalekite of old. 'I only mourn thatI shall not be there to see the strife you will breed with thelute-twanger or his fellows at Nanci.'

  Gebhardt here gave his opinion that it would be wise to reserve the oldman for King Rene's justice, so as to obviate all peril of dissension.The small garrison, to be left in the castle under the most prudentknight whom Gebhardt could select, were instructed only to professto hold it till the Lords of Alsace and Lorraine should jointly havedetermined what was to be done with it.

  It was not expedient to tarry there long. A hurried meal was made, andthen the victors set out on the descent. George had found his good steedin the stables, together with the ladies' palfreys, and there had beengreat joy in the mutual recognition; but Jean's horse was found to showtraces of its fall, and her arm was not yet entirely recovered, so thatshe was seated on Ringan's sure-footed pony, with the new-made knightwalking by her side to secure its every step, though Ringan grumbledthat Sheltie would be far safer if left to his own wits.

  Sigismund was proposing to make for Sarrebourg, when the glitteringof lances was seen in the distance, and the troop was drawn closelytogether, for the chance that, as had been already thought probable,some of the Lorrainers had risen as to war and invasion. However, thebanner soon became distinguishable, with the many quarterings, showingthat King Rene was there in person; and Sigismund rode forward to greethim and explain.

  The chivalrous King was delighted with the adventure, only wishing hehad shared in the rescue of the captive princesses. 'Young blood,' hesaid. 'Youth has all the guerdons reserved for it, while age is laggingbehind.'

  Yet so soon as Sir Patrick Drummond had overtaken him at Epinal, he hadturned back to Nanci, and it was in consequence of what he there heardthat he had set forth to bring the robbers of Balchenburg to reason. Tohim there was no difficulty in accepting thankfully what some would haveregarded as an aggression on the part of the Duke of Alsace, and thoughold Balchenburg, when led up before him, seemed bent upon aggravatinghim. 'Ha! Sir King, so a young German and a wild Scot have done whatyou, with all your kingdoms, have never had the wit to do.'

  'The poor old man is distraught,' said the King, while Sigismund putin--

  'Mayhap because you never ventured on such audacious villainy andoutrecuidance before.'

  'Young blood will have its way,' repeated the old man. 'Nay, I toldthe lad no good would come of it, but he would have it that he had hisbackers, and in sooth that escort played into his hands. Ha! ha! muchwill the fair damsels' royal beau-frere thank you for overthrowing hisplan for disposing of them.'

  'Hark you, foul-mouthed fellow,' said King Rene; 'did I not pity youfor your bereavement and ruin, I should requite that slander of a nobleprince by hanging you on the nearest tree.'

  'Your Grace is kindly welcome,' was the answer.

  Rene and Sigismund, however, took counsel together, and agreed that theold man should, instead of this fate, be relegated to an abbey, where hemight at least have the chance of repenting of his crimes, and be keptin safe custody.

  'That's your mercy,' muttered the old mountain wolf when he heard theirdecision.

  All this was settled as they rode back along the way where Madame deSte. Petronelle had first become alarmed. She had now quite resumed herauthority and position, and promised protection and employment to Barbeand Trudchen. The former had tears for 'her boy,' thus cut off in hissins; but it was what she always foreboded for him, and if her oldmaster was not thankful for the grace offered him, she was for him.

  King Rene, who believed not a word against his nephew, intended himselfto conduct the ladies to the Court of his sister, and see them in safetythere. Jean, however, afte
r the first excitement, so drooped as sherode, and was so entirely unable to make answer to all the kindnessaround her, that it was plain that she must rest as soon as possible,and thus hospitality was asked at a little country castle, around whichthe suite encamped. A pursuivant was, however, despatched by Rene tothe French Court to announce the deliverance of the princesses, and SirPatrick sent his son David with the party, that his wife and the poorDauphiness might be fully reassured.

  There was a strange stillness over Chateau le Surry when David rode intriumphantly at the gate. A Scottish archer, who stood on guard, lookedup at him anxiously with the words, 'Is it weel with the lassies?' andon his reply, 'They are sain and safe, thanks, under Heaven, to GeordieDouglas of Angus!' the man exclaimed, 'On, on, sir squire, the saintsgrant ye may not be too late for the puir Dolfine! Ah! but she has beensair misguided.'

  'Is my mother here?' asked David.

  'Ay, sir, and with the puir lady. Ye may gang in without question. A'the doors be open, that ilka loon may win in to see a princess die.'

  The pursuivant, hearing that the King and Dauphin were no longer in thecastle, rode on to Chalons, but David dismounted, and followed a streamof persons, chiefly monks, friars, and women of the burgher class, upthe steps, and on into the vaulted room, the lower part shut off by arail, against which crowded the curious and only half-awed multitude,who whispered to each other, while above, at a temporary altar, brightwith rows of candles, priests intoned prayers. The atmosphere wasinsufferably hot, and David could hardly push forward; but as heexclaimed in his imperfect French that he came with tidings of Madame'ssisters, way was made, and he heard his mother's voice. 'Is it? Is it myson? Bring him. Oh, quickly!'

  He heard a little, faint, gasping cry, and as a lane was opened for him,struggled onwards. In poor Margaret's case the etiquette that banishedthe nearest kin from Royalty in articulo mortis was not much to beregretted. David saw her--white, save for the death-flush called up bythe labouring breath, as she lay upheld in his mother's arms, a priestholding a crucifix before her, a few ladies kneeling by the bed.

  'Good tidings, I see, my son,' said Lady Drummond.

  'Are--they--here?' gasped Margaret.

  'Alack, not yet, Madame; they will come in a few days' time.' She gave apiteous sigh, and David could not hear her words.

  'Tell her how and where you found them,' said his mother.

  David told his story briefly. There was little but a quivering of theheavy eyelids and a clasping of the hands to show whether the dyingwoman marked him, but when he had finished, she said, so low that onlyhis mother heard, 'Safe! Thank God! Nunc dimittis. Who was it--youngAngus?'

  'Even so,' said David, when the question had been repeated to him by hismother.

  'So best!' sighed Margaret. 'Bid the good father give thanks.'

  Dame Lilias dismissed her son with a sign. Margaret lay far more serene.For a few minutes there was a sort of hope that the good news mightinspire fresh life, and yet, after the revelation of what her conditionwas in this strange, frivolous, hard-hearted Court, how could life bedesired for her weary spirit? She did not seem to wish--far less tostruggle to wish--to live to see them again; perhaps there was aninstinctive feeling that, in her weariness, there was no power ofrousing herself, and she would rather sink undisturbed than hear of theterror and suffering that she knew but too well her husband had caused.

  Only, when it was very near the last, she said, 'Safe! safe in lealhands. Oh, tell my Jeanie to be content with them--never seek earthlycrowns--ashes--ashes--Elleen--Jeanie--all of them--my love-oh! safe,safe. Now, indeed, I can pardon--'

  'Pardon!' said the French priest, catching the word. 'Whom, Madame, theSieur de Tillay?'

  Even on the gasping lips there was a semi-smile. 'Tillay--I hadforgotten! Tillay, yes, and another.'

  If no one else understood, Lady Drummond did, that the forgiveness wasfor him who had caused the waste and blight of a life that mighthave been so noble and so sweet, and who had treacherously prepared aterrible fate for her young innocent sisters.

  It was all ended now; there was no more but to hear the priest commendthe parting Christian soul, while, with a few more faint breaths,the soul of Margaret of Scotland passed beyond the world of sneers,treachery, and calumny, to the land 'where the wicked cease fromtroubling, and where the weary are at rest.'

  CHAPTER 12. SORROW ENDED

  'Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that here lies: Death, avenger of wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies.' Much Ado About Nothing.

  A day's rest revived Jean enough to make her eager to push on toChalons, and enough likewise to revive her coquettish and petulanttemper.

  Sigismund and Eleanor might ride on together in a species of paradise,as having not only won each other's love, but acted out a bit of theromance that did not come to full realisation much more often in thosedays than in modern ones. They were quite content to let King Rene gloryin them almost as much as he had arrived at doing in his own daughterand her Ferry, and they could be fully secure; Sigismund had no one'sconsent to ask, save a formal licence from his cousin, the EmperorFrederick III., who would pronounce him a fool for wedding a pennilessprincess, but had no real power over him; while Eleanor was certain thatall her kindred would feel that she was fulfilling her destiny, and highsweet thoughts of thankfulness and longing to be a blessing to him wholoved her, and to those whom he ruled, filled her spirit as she rodethrough the shady woods and breezy glades, bright with early summer.

  Jean, however, was galled by the thought that every one at home wouldsmile and say that she might have spared her journey, and that, in spiteof all her beauty, she had just ended by wedding the Scottish laddiewhom she had scorned. True, her heart knew that she loved him and noneother, and that he truly merited her; but her pride was not willing thathe should feel that he had earned her as a matter of course, and she wasquite as ungracious to Sir George Douglas, the Master of Angus, asever she had been to Geordie of the Red Peel, and she showed all thepetulance of a semi-convalescent. She would not let him ride beside her,his horse made her palfrey restless, she said; and when King Rene talkedabout her true knight, she pretended not to understand.

  'Ah!' he said, 'be consoled, brave sire; we all know it is the part ofthe fair lady to be cruel and merciless. Let me sing you a roman bothsad and true!'

  Which good-natured speech simply irritated George beyond bearing. 'Thedaft old carle,' muttered he to Sir Patrick, 'why cannot he let me gangmy ain gate, instead of bringing all their prying eyes on me? If Jeancasts me off the noo, it will be all his fault.'

  These small vexations, however, soon faded out of sight when thedrooping, half-hoisted banner was seen on the turrets of Chateau leSurry, and the clang of a knell came slow and solemn on the wind.

  No one was at first visible, but probably a warder had announced theirapproach, for various figures issued from the gateway, some coming upto Rene, and David Drummond seeking his father. The tidings were in onemoment made known to the two poor girls--a most sudden shock, for theyhad parted with their sister in full health, as they thought, and SirPatrick had only supposed her to have been chilled by the thunderstorm.Yet Eleanor's first thought was, 'Ah! I knew it! Would that I hadclung closer to her and never been parted.' But the next moment she wasstartled by a cry--Jean had slid from her horse, fainting away in GeorgeDouglas's arms.

  Madame de Ste. Petronelle was at hand, and the Lady of Glenuskie quicklyon the spot; and they carried her into the hall, where she revived,and soon was in floods of tears. These were the days when violentdemonstration was unchecked and admired as the due of the deceased, andall stood round, weeping with her. King Charles himself leaning forwardto wring her hands, and cry, 'My daughter, my good daughter!' As soonas the first tempest had subsided, the King supported Eleanor to thechapel, where, in the midst of rows of huge wax candles, Margaret laywith placid face, and hands clasped over a crucifix, as if on a tomb,the pall that covered all e
xcept her face embellished at the sides withthe blazonry of France and Scotland. Her husband, with his thin handsclasped, knelt by her head, and requiems were being sung around byrelays of priests. There was fresh weeping and wailing as the sisterscast sprinklings of holy water on her, and then Jean, sinking down quiteexhausted, was supported away to a chamber where the sisters could hearthe story of these last sad days from Lady Drummond.

  The solemnities of Margaret's funeral took their due course--a lengthyone, and then, or rather throughout, there was the consideration whatwas to come next. Too late, all the Court seemed to have wakened toregret for Margaret. She had been open-handed and kindly, and theattendants had loved her, while the ladies who had gossiped about herhabits now found occupation for their tongues in indignation againstwhosoever had aspersed her discretion. The King himself, who had alwaysbeen lazily fond of the belle fille who could amuse him, was stirred,perhaps by Rene, into an inquiry into the scandalous reports, the resultof which was that Jamet de Tillay was ignominiously banished from theCourt, and Margaret's fair fame vindicated, all too late to save herheart from breaking. The displeasure that Charles expressed to his sonin private on the score of poor Margaret's wrongs, is, in fact, believedto have been the beginning of the breach which widened continually, tillfinally the unhappy father starved himself to death in a morbid dread ofbeing poisoned by his son.

  However, for the present, the two Scottish princesses reaped the fullbenefit of all the feeling for their sister. The King and Queen calledthem their dearest daughters, and made all sorts of promises of marryingand endowing them, and Louis himself went outwardly through all theforms of mourning and devotion, and treated his two fair sisters withextreme civility, such as they privately declared they could hardlybear, when they recollected how he had behaved before Margaret.

  Jean in especial flouted him with all the sharpness and pertness ofwhich she was capable; but do what she would, he received it all with asmiling indifference and civility which exasperated her all the more.

  The Laird and Lady of Glenuskie were in some difficulty. They could notwell be much longer absent from Scotland, and yet Lilias had promisedthe poor Dauphiness not to leave her sisters except in some security.Eleanor's fate was plain enough, Sigismund followed her about as herbetrothed, and the only question was whether, during the period ofmourning, he should go back to his dominions to collect a trainworthy of his marriage with a king's daughter; but this he was plainlyreluctant to do. Besides the unwillingness of a lover to lose sight ofhis lady, the catastrophe that had befallen the sisters might wellleave a sense that they needed protection. Perhaps, too, he might expectmurmurs at his choice of a dowerless princess from his vassals of theTirol.

  At any rate, he lingered and accompanied the Court to Tours, where inthe noble old castle the winter was to be spent.

  There Sir Patrick and his wife were holding a consultation. Their meanswere well-nigh exhausted. What they had collected for their journeywas nearly spent, and so was the sum with which Cardinal Beaufort hadfurnished his nieces. It was true that Eleanor and Jean were reckonedas guests of the French King, and the knight and lady and attendants aspart of their suite; but the high proud Scottish spirits could notbe easy in this condition, and they longed to depart, while still byselling the merely ornamental horses and some jewels they could paytheir journey. But then Jean remained a difficulty. To take her back toScotland was the most obvious measure, where she could marry George ofAngus as soon as the mourning was ended.

  'Even if she will have him,' said Dame Lilias, 'I doubt me whether herproud spirit will brook to go home unwedded.'

  'Dost deem the lassie is busking herself for higher game? That were anevil requital for his faithful service and gallant daring.'

  'I cannot tell,' said Lilias. 'The maid has always been kittle to dealwith. I trow she loves Geordie in her inmost heart, but she canna tholeto feel herself bound to him, and it irks her that when her sisters arewedded to sovereign princes, she should gang hame to be gudewife to amere Scots Earl's son.'

  'The proud unthankful peat! Leave her to gang her ain gate, Lily. Andyet she is a bonny winsome maid, that I canna cast off.'

  'Nor I, Patie, and I have gi'en my word to her sister. Yet gin someprince cam' in her way, I'd scarce give much for Geordie's chance.'

  'The auld king spake once to me of his younger son, the Duke of Berry,as they call him,' said Sir Patrick; 'but the Constable told me that wasall froth, the young duke must wed a princess with a tocher.'

  'I trust none will put it in our Jeanie's light brain,' sighed Lily, 'orshe will be neither to have nor to hold.'

  The consultation was interrupted by the sudden bursting in of Jeanherself. She flew up to her friends with outstretched hands, and hid herface in Lilias's lap.

  'Oh, cousins, cousins! tak' me away out of his reach. He has been thedeath of poor Meg, now he wants to be mine.'

  They could not understand her at first, and indeed shame as well asdismay made her incoherent--for what had been proposed to her was atthat time unprecedented. It is hard to believe it, yet French historiansaver that the Dauphin Louis actually thought of obtaining a dispensationfor marrying her. In the unsettled condition of the Church, when itwas divided by the last splinterings, as it were, of the great schism,perhaps the astute Louis deemed that any prince might obtain anythingfrom whichever rival Pope he chose to acknowledge, though it wasreserved for Alexander Borgia to grant the first licence of this kind.To Jean the idea was simply abhorrent, alike as regarded her instinctsand for the sake of the man himself. His sneering manner towards hersister had filled her with disgust and indignation, and he had, in thosedays, been equally contemptuous towards herself--besides which she wasaware of his share in her capture by Balchenburg, and whispers had notrespected the manner in which his silence had fostered the slanders thathad broken Margaret's heart.

  'I would sooner wed a viper!' she said.

  What was Louis's motive it is very hard to guess. Perhaps there was somereal admiration of Jean's beauty, and it seems to have been his desirethat his wife should be a nonentity, as was shown in his subsequentchoice of Charlotte of Savoy. Now Jean was in feature very like hersister Isabel, Duchess of Brittany, who was a very beautiful woman, butnot far from being imbecile, and Louis had never seen Jean display anysuperiority of intellect or taste like Margaret or Eleanor, but ratherimpatience of their pursuits, and he therefore might expect her to beequally simple with the other sister. However that might be, SirPatrick was utterly incredulous; but when his wife asked Madame Ste.Petronelle's opinion, she shook her head, and said the Sire Dauphin wasa strange ower cannie chiel, and advised that Maitre Jaques Coeur shouldbe consulted.

  'Who may he be?'

  'Ken ye not Jaques Coeur? The great merchant of Bourges--the man towhom, above all others, France owes it that we be not under the Englishyoke. The man, I say, for it was the poor Pucelle that gave the firstmove, and ill enough was her reward, poor blessed maiden as she was. Asaint must needs die a martyr's death, and they will own one of thesedays that such she was! But it was Maitre Coeur that stirred the Kingand gave him the wherewithal to raise his men--lending, they called it,but it was out of the free heart of a true Frenchman who never looked tosee it back again, nor even thanks for it!'

  'A merchant?' asked Sir Patrick.

  'Ay, the mightiest merchant in the realm. You would marvel to see hishouse at Bourges. It would fit a prince! He has ships going to Egypt andAfrica, and stores of silk enough to array all the dames and demoisellesin France! Jewels fit for an emperor, perfumes like a very grove ofcamphire. Then he has mines of silver and copper, and the King has givenhim the care of the coinage. Everything prospers that he sets his handto, and he well deserves it, for he is an honest man where honest menare few.'

  'Is he here?'

  'Yea; I saw his green hood crossing the court of the castle this verynoon. The King can never go on long without him, though there are thosethat so bate him that I fear he may have a fall one of these days.Meth
inks I heard that he ay hears his morning mass when here at thelittle chapel of St. James, close to the great shrine of St. Martin, atsix of the clock in the morning, so as to be private. You might find himthere, and whatever he saith to you will be sooth, whether it be as youwould have it, or no.'

  On consideration Sir Patrick decided to adopt the lady's advice, andon her side she reflected that it might be well to take care that theinterview did not fail for want of recognition.

  The glorious Cathedral of Tours was standing up dark, but withglittering windows, from the light within deepening the stained glass,and throwing out the beauty of the tracery, while the sky, brighteningin the autumn morning, threw the towers into relief, when, littlerecking of all this beauty, only caring to find the way, Sir Patrick onthe one hand, the old Scots French lady on the other, went their way tothe noble west front, each wrapped in a long cloak, and not knowing oneanother, till their eyes met as they gave each other holy water at thedoor, after the habit of strangers entering at the same time.

  Then Madame de Ste. Petronelle showed the way to the little side chapel,close to the noble apse. There, beneath the six altar-candles, a priestwas hurrying through a mass in a rapid ill-pronounced manner, while,besides his acolyte, worshippers were very few. Only the light fellon the edges of a dark-green velvet cloak and silvered a grizzled headbowed in reverence, and Madame de Ste. Petronelle touched Sir Patrickand made him a significant sign.

  Daylight was beginning to reveal itself by the time the brief servicewas over. Sir Patrick, stimulated by the lady, ventured a few stepsforward, and accosted Maitre Coeur as he rose, and drawing forward hishood was about to leave the church.

  'Beau Sire, a word with you. I am the kinsman and attendant of theScottish King's sisters.'

  'Ah! one of them is to be married. My steward is with me. It is to himyou should speak of her wardrobe,' said Jaques Coeur, an impatient lookstealing over his keen but honest visage.

  'It is not of Duke Sigismund's betrothed that I would speak,' returnedthe Scottish knight; 'it is of her sister.'

  Jaques Coeur's dark eyes cast a rapid glance, as of one who knew not whomight lurk in the recesses of a twilight cathedral.

  'Not here,' he said, and he led Sir Patrick away with him down theaisle, out into the air, where a number of odd little buildingsclustered round the walls of the cathedral, even leaning against it,heedless of the beauty they marred.

  'By your leave, Father,' he said, after exchanging salutations with apriest, who was just going out to say his morning's mass, and leavinghis tiny bare cell empty. Here Sir Patrick could incredulously tellhis story, and the merchant could only sigh and own that he feared thatthere was every reason to believe that the intention was real. JaquesCoeur, religiously, was shocked at the idea, and, politically, wishedthe Dauphin to make a more profitable alliance. He whispered that thesooner the lady was out of reach the better, and even offered to advancea loan to facilitate the journey.

  There followed a consultation in the securest place that could bedevised, namely, in the antechamber where Sir Patrick and Lady Drummondslept to guard their young princesses, in the palace at Tours, Jean,Eleanor, and Madame de Ste. Petronelle having a bedroom within.

  Sir Patrick's view was that Jean might take her leave in full stateand honour, leaving Eleanor to marry her Duke in due time; but the girlshuddered at this. 'Oh no, no; he would call himself my brother for thenonce and throw me into some convent! There is nothing for it but tomake it impossible. Sir Patie, fetch Geordie, and tell him, an' he lovesme, to wed me on the spot, and bear me awa' to bonnie Scotland. Wouldthat I had never been beguiled into quitting it.'

  'Geordie Douglas! You were all for flouting him a while ago,' saidEleanor, puzzled.

  'Dinna be sae daft like, Elleen, that was but sport, and--and a maid maynot hold herself too cheap! Geordie that followed me all the way fromhome, and was sair hurt for me, and freed me from yon awsome castle. Oh,could ye trow that I could love ony but he?'

  It was not too easy to refrain from saying, 'So that's the end of allyour airs,' but the fear of making her fly off again withheld LadyDrummond, and even Eleanor.

  George did not lodge in the castle, and Sir Patrick could not sound himtill the morning; but for a long space after the two sisters had laidtheir heads on the pillow Jean was tossing, sometimes sobbing; and toher sister's consolations she replied, 'Oh, Elleen, he can never forgiveme! Why did my hard, dour, ungrateful nature so sport with his lealloving heart? Will he spurn me the now? Geordie, Geordie, I shall neversee your like! It would but be my desert if I were left behind to thattreacherous spiteful prince,--I wad as soon be a mouse in a cat's claw!'

  But George of Angus made no doubt. He had won his ladylove at last, andthe only further doubt remained as to how the matter was to be carriedout. Jaques Coeur was consulted again. No priest at Tours would, hethought, dare to perform the ceremony, for fear of after-vengeance ofthe Dauphin; and Sir Patrick then suggested Father Romuald, who had beenlingering in his train waiting to cross the Alps till his Scotch friendsshould have departed and winter be over; but the deed would hardly besafely done within the city.

  The merchant's advice was this: Sir Patrick, his Lady, and the Master ofAngus had better openly take leave of the Court and start on the way toBrittany. No opposition would be made, though if Louis suspected LadyJean's presence in their party, he might close the gates and detainher; Jaques Coeur therefore thought she had better travel separately atfirst. For Eleanor, as the betrothed bride of Sigismund, there was no might therefore remain at Court with the Queen. Jaques Coeur, thegreatest merchant of his day, had just received a large train of waggonsloaded with stuffs and other wares from Bourges, on the way to Nantes,and he proposed that the Lady Jean should travel with one attendantfemale in one of these, passing as the wife and daughter of the foreman.These two personages had actually travelled to Tours, and were contentto remain there, while their places were taken by Madame de Ste.Petronelle and Jean.

  We must not describe the parting of the sisters, nor the many messagessent by Elleen to bonny Scotland, and the brothers and sisters she waswilling to see no more for the sake of her Austrian Duke. Of her allthat needs to be said is that she lived and died happy and honoured,delighting him by her flow of wit and poetry, and only regretting thatshe was a childless wife.

  Barbe and Trudchen were to remain in her suite, Barbe still grieving for'her boy,' and hoping to devote all she could obtain as wage or largesseto masses for his soul, and Trudchen, very happy in the new world,though being broken in with some difficulty to civilised life.

  Having been conveyed by by-streets to the great factory or shop ofMaltre Coeur at Tours, a wonder in itself, though far inferior to hismain establishment at Bourges, Madame de Ste. Petronelle and Jean, withher faithful Skywing nestled under her cloak, were handed by Jaqueshimself to seats in a covered wain, containing provisions for them andalso some more delicate wares, destined for the Duchess of Brittany. Hewas himself in riding gear, and a troop of armed servants awaited him onhorseback.

  'Was he going with them?' Jean asked.

  'Not all the way,' he said; but he would not part with the lady till hehad resigned her to the charge of the Sire de Glenuskie. The state of should accompany any valuable convoy, that his going with the partywould excite no suspicion.

  So they journeyed on in the wain at the head of a quarter of a mile ofwaggons and pack-horses, slowly indeed, but so steadily that they weresure of a good start before the princess's departure was known to theCourt.

  It was at the evening halt at a conventual grange that they came up withthe rest of the party, and George Douglas spurred forward to meet them,and hold out his eager arms as Jean sprang from the waggon. Wisdomas well as love held that it would be better that Jean should enterBrittany as a wife, so that the Duke might not be bribed or intimidatedinto yielding her to Louis. It was in the little village church, veryearly the next morning, that George Douglas received the reward of hislong patience in the hand of Joanna Stewa
rt, a wiser, less petulant,and more womanly being than the vain and capricious lassie whom he hadfollowed from Scotland two years previously.