Under the Rose

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XI

  A NEW MESSENGER TO THE EMPEROR

  Between Caillette and the duke's jester had arisen one of thosefriendships which spring more from similitude than unlikeness; an amityof which each had been unconscious in its inception, but which hadgradually grown into a sentiment of comradeship. Caillette was ofnoble mien, graceful manner and elegant address; a soldier bypreference; a jester against his will, forced to the office by thenobleman who had cared for and educated him. In the duke's fool he hadfound his other self; a man who like himself lent dignity to the gentleart of jesting; who could turn a rhyme and raise a laugh withoutresorting to grossness.

  The line of demarcation between the clown and the merry-and-wise witwas, in those days, not clearly drawn. The stories of the former,which made the matrons look down and the maidens to hide their faces,were often more appreciated by the inebriate nobles than some subtilecomicality or nimble lines of poetry, that would serve to take home andthink over, and which improved with time like a wine of sound body.Triboulet abused the ancient art of foolery, thought Caillette; theduke's _plaisant_ played upon it with true drollery, and as a masterwho has a delicate ear for an instrument, so Caillette, being sensitiveto broadness or stupidity which masked as humor or pleasantry, turnednaturally from the mountebank to the true jester.

  Moreover, Caillette experienced a superior sadness, sifted throughyears of infestivity and gloom, beginning when Diane was led to thealtar by the grand seneschal of Normandy, that threw an actual, albeitcynical, interest about the love-tragedy of the duke's fool which theother divined and--from his own past heart-throbs--understood. The_plaisant_ to the princess' betrothed, Caillette would have sworn, wasof gentle birth; his face, manner and bearing proclaimed it; he was,also, a scholar and a poet; his courage, which Caillette divined,fitted him for the higher office of arms. Certainly, he became aninteresting companion, and the French jester sought his company onevery occasion. And this fellowship, or intimacy, which he courted wasdestined to send Caillette forth on a strange and adventuresome mission.

  The day following the return of the duke's fool to the castle, Francis,who early in his reign had sought to model his life after thechivalrous romances, inaugurated a splendid and pompous tournament.Some time before, the pursuivants had proclaimed the event anddistributed to the knights who were to take active part the shields ofarms of the four _juges-diseurs_, or umpires of the field. On thisgala occasion the scaffolds and stands surrounding the arena werebedecked in silks of bright colors; against the cloudless sky athousand festal flags waved and fluttered in the gentle breeze; beneaththe tasseled awning festoons of bright flowers embellished gorgeoushangings and tapestries.

  The king rode from the castle under a pavilion of cloth of gold andpurple velvet, with the letters F and R, boldly outlined, followed byladies and courtiers, pages and attendants. Amid the shouts and huzzasof the people, the monarch and his retinue took their places in thecenter of the stand, the royal box hung with ornate brocades andtrimmings.

  In an inclosure of white, next to that of the king, was seated the Ladyof the Tournament, the Princess Louise, and her maids of honor, arrayedall in snowy garb, and, against the garish brilliancy of the generalbackground, a pompous pageantry of colors, the decoration of thisdainty nook shone in silvery contrast. A garland of flowers was theonly crown the lady wore; no other adornment had her fair shoulderssave their own argent beauty, of which the fashion of the day permitteda discernible suggestion. One arm hung languorously across therailing, as she leaned forward with seeming carelessness, but intentlydirected her glance to the scene below, where the attendants werearranging the ring or leading the wondrously pranked-out chargers totheir stalls.

  Behind her, motionless as a statue, with face that looked paler, andlips the redder, and hair the blacker, stood the maid Jacqueline. Ifthe casual glance saw first the blond head, the creamy arms and sunnyblue eyes of the princess, it was apt to linger with almost a start ofwonder upon the striking figure of the jestress, a nocturnal touch in apearly picture.

  "On my word, there's a decorative creature for any lord to have in hishouse," murmured the aged chancellor of the kingdom, sitting near themonarch. "Who is she?"

  "A beggar's brat Francis found here when he took the castle," repliedthe beribboned spark addressed. "You know the story?"

  "Yes," said the white-haired diplomat, half-sadly. "This castle oncebelonged to the great Constable of Dubrois. When he fell from favorthe king besieged him; the constable fled and died in Spain. Thatmuch, of course, I--and the world--know. But the girl--"

  "When our victorious monarch took possession of this ancient pile,"explained the willing courtier, "the only ones left in it were an oldgamekeeper and his daughter, a gipsy-like maid who ran wild in thewoods. Time hath tamed her somewhat, but there she stands."

  "And what sad memories of a noble but unfortunate gentleman clusteraround her!" muttered the chancellor. "Alas, for our brief hour oftriumph and favor! Yesterday was he great; I, nothing. To-day, whatam I, while he--is nothing."

  A great murmur, resolving itself into shouts and resounding outcry,interrupted the noble's reminiscent mood, as a thick-set figure inrichly chased armor, mounted on a massive horse, crossed the arena.

  "_Bon Vouloir!_" they cried. "_Bon Vouloir!_"

  It was the name assumed by the free baron for the day, while otherknights were known for the time being by such euphonious and chivalrousappellations as _Vaillant Desyr_, _Bon Espoir_ or _Coeur Loyal_. _BonVouloir_, upon this popular demonstration, reined his steed, and,removing his head-covering, bowed reverently to the king and his suite,deeply to the Lady of the Tournament and her retinue, and carelessly tothe vociferous multitude, after which he retired to a large tent ofcrimson and gold, set apart for his convenience and pleasure.

  From the purple box the monarch had nodded graciously and from thesilver bower the lady had smiled softly, so that the duke had no reasonfor dissatisfaction; the attitude of the crowd was of small moment, anunmusical accompaniment to the potent pantomime, of which the principalfigures were Francis, the King Arthur of Europe, and the princess,queen of beauty's unbounded realm.

  In front of the duke's pavilion was hung his shield, and by its sidestood his squire, fancifully dressed in rich colors. Behind ranged themen of arms, whose lances formed a fence to hold in check the peoplefrom far and wide, among whom the pick-purses, light-fingered scamps,and sturdy beggars conscientiously circulated, plying themselvesassiduously. The fashion of the day prescribed carrying the purse andthe dagger dangling from the girdle, and many a good citizen departedfrom the tourney without the one and with the other, and it is needlessto say which of the two articles the filcher left its owner. And nonewas more enthusiastic or demonstrative of the features of the liststhan these rapacious riflers, who loudly cheered the merry monarch orshouted for his gallant knights, while deftly cutting purse-cords ordespoiling honest country dames of brooches, clasps or other treasuredarticles of adornment.

  Near the duke's pavilion, to the right, had been pitched a commodioustent of yellow material, with ropes of the same color, and a fool's capcrowning the pole in place of the customary banner. Over the entrancewas suspended the jester's gilded wand and a staff, from which hung ablown bladder. Here were quartered the court jesters whom Francis hadcommanded to be fittingly attired for the lists and to take part in thegeneral combat. In vain had Triboulet pleaded that they would occasionmore merriment if assigned to the king's box than doomed to the arena.

  "That may be," Francis had answered, "but on this occasion all thepeople must witness your antics."

  "Antics!" Triboulet had shuddered. "An I should be killed, yourMajesty?"

  "Then it will be amusing to see you quiet for once in your life," hadbeen the laughing reply.

  And with this poor assurance the dwarf had been obliged to contenthimself--not merrily, 'tis true, but with much inward disquietude,secretly execrating his monarch for this revival of ancient andbarbaro
us practices.

  Now, in the rear of the jesters' pavilion, his face was yellow withtrepidation, as the armorer buckled on the iron plates about hisstunted figure, fastening and riveting them in such manner, he mentallyconcluded he should never emerge from that frightful shell.

  "The worst of it is," dryly remarked the hunchback's valet as hebriskly plied his little hammer, "these clothes are so heavy youcouldn't run away if you wanted to."

  "Oh, that the duke were married and out of the kingdom!" Tribouletfervently wished, and the fiery comments of Marot, Villot and thoseother reckless spirits, who seemed to mind no more the prospect ofbeing spitted on a lance than if it were but a novel and not unpleasantexperience to look forward to, in no wise served to assuage hisheart-sinking.

  At the entrance of the pavilion stood Caillette, who had watched thepassing of _Bon Vouloir_ and now was gazing upward into a sea of facesfrom whence came a hum of voices like the buzzing of unnumbered bees.

  "Certes," he commented, "the king makes much of this unmannered,lumpish, beer-drinking noble who is going to wed the princess."

  "Caillette," said the low voice of the duke's jester at his elbow,"would you see a woman undone?"

  "Why, _mon ami_!" lightly answered the French fool, "I've seen manyundone--by themselves."

  "Ah," returned the other, "I appeal to your chivalry, and you answerwith a jest."

  "How else," asked Caillette, with a peculiar smile that was at oncesweet and mournful, "can one take woman, save as a jest--a pleasantmockery?"

  "Your irony precludes the test of friendship--the service I was aboutto ask of you," retorted the duke's fool, gravely.

  "Test of friendship!" exclaimed the poet. "'Tis the only thing Ibelieve in. Love! What is it? A flame! a breath! Look out there--atthe flatterers and royal sycophants. Those are your emissaries oflove. Ye gods! into the breasts of what jack-a-dandies and parasiteshas descended the unquenchable fire of Jove! Now as forcomradeship"--placing his hand affectionately on the other'sshoulder--"by Castor and Pollux, and all the other inseparables, 'tisanother thing. But expound this strange anomaly--a woman wronged. Whois the woman?"

  "The Princess Louise!"

  Caillette glanced from the place where he stood to the center of thestand and the white bower, inclining from which was a woman, haughty,fair, beautiful; one whose face attracted the attention of themultitude and who seemed not unhappy in being thus scrutinized andadmired. Shaking his head slowly, the court poet dropped his eyes andstudied the sand at his feet.

  "She looks not wronged," he said, dryly. "She appears to enjoy hertriumphs."

  "And yet, Caillette, 'tis all a farce," answered the duke's jester.

  "So have I--thought--on other occasions."

  And again his gaze flew upward, not, however, to the lady whom Francishad gallantly chosen for Queen of Beauty, but, despite his allegedcynicism, to a corner of the king's own box, where sat she who had oncebeen a laughing maid by his side and with whom he had played thatdiverting pastoral, called "First Love." It was only an instant'sreturn into the farcical but joyous past, and a moment later he wassharply recalled into the arid present by the words of his companion.

  "The man the Princess Louise is going to marry is no more Robert, theDuke of Friedwald, than you are!" exclaimed the foreign fool. "He isthe bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld, the so-called free baron of Hochfels. Hiscastle commands the road between the true duke and Francis' domains.He made himself master of all the correspondence, conceived the plan tocome here himself and intends to carry off the true lord's bride.Indeed, in private, he has acknowledged it all to me, and, failing tocorrupt me to his service, last night set an assassin to kill me."

  His listener, with folded arms and attentive mien, kept his eyes fixedsteadily upon the narrator, as if he doubted the evidence of hissenses. Without, the marshals had taken their places in the lists andanother stentorian dissonance greeted these officers of the field fromthe good-humored gathering, which, basking in the anticipation of thefeast they knew would follow the pageantry, clapped their hands andflung up their caps at the least provocation for rejoicing. Upon thetwo jesters this scene of jubilation was lost, Caillette merely bendingcloser to the other, with:

  "But why have you not denounced him to the king?"

  "Because of my foolhardiness in tacitly accepting at first thisfree-booter as my master."

  Caillette shot a keen glance at the other and smiled. His eyes said:"Foolhardiness! Was it not, rather, some other emotion? Had not theprincess leaned more than graciously toward her betrothed and--"

  "I thought him but some flimsy adventurer," went on the duke's fool,hastily, "and told myself I would see the play played out, holding thekey to the situation, and--"

  "You underestimated him?"

  "Exactly. His plans were cunningly laid, and now--who am I that theking should listen to me? At best, if I denounce him, they wouldprobably consider it a bit of pleasantry, or--madness."

  "Yes," reluctantly assented Caillette, Triboulet's words, "a fool inlove with the princess!" recurring to him; "it would be undoubtedlyeven as you say."

  The duke's jester looked down thoughtfully. He had only half-expressedto the French _plaisant_ the doubts which had assailed him since hisinterview with Louis of Hochfels. Who could read the minds ofmonarchs? The motives actuating them? Should he be able to convinceFrancis of the deception practised upon him, was it altogether unlikelythat the king might not be brought to condone the offense for the sakeof an alliance with this bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld and the otherunconquerable free barons of the Austrian border against Charleshimself? Had not Francis in the past, albeit openly friendly with theemperor, secretly courted the favor of the powerful German nobles inCharles' own country? Had not his covenant with the infidel, Solyman,been a covert attempt to undermine the emperor's power?

  From the day when, as young men, both had been aspirants for theimperial throne of Germany and Francis had suffered defeat, the latterhad assiduously devoted himself to the retributory task of gaining theascendancy over his successful rival. And now, although the temperingyears had assuaged their erstwhile passions and each had professed toeschew war and its violence, might not this temptation prove too greatfor Francis to resist a last blow at the emperor's prestige? How easyto affect disbelief of a fool, to overthrow the fabric of friendshipbetween Charles and himself, and at the same time apparently notviolate good faith or conscience!

  The voice of Caillette broke in upon his thoughts.

  "You will not then attempt to denounce him?"

  The fool hesitated. "Alone--out of favor with the king, I like not torisk the outcome--but--if I may depend upon you--"

  "Did ever friend refuse such a call?" exclaimed Caillette, promptly. Aquick glance of gratitude flashed from the other's eyes.

  "There is one flaw in the free baron's position," resumed the duke'sfool, more confidently; "a fatal one 'twill prove, if it is possible tocarry out my plans. He thinks the emperor is in Austria, and hisfollowers guard the road through the mountains. He tells himself notonly are the emperor and the Duke of Friedwald too far distant to hearof the pretender and interfere with the nuptials, but that he obviateseven the contingency of their learning of that matter at all bycontrolling the way through which the messengers must go. Thus restshe in double security--but an imaginary one."

  "What mean you?" asked Caillette, attentively, from his manner givingfuller credence to the extraordinary news he had just learned.

  "That Charles, the emperor, is not in Austria, but in Aragon atSaragossa, where he can be reached in time to prevent the marriage.Just before my leaving, the emperor, to my certain knowledge, secretlydeparted for Spain on matters pertaining to the governing of Aragon.Charles plays a deep game in the affairs of Europe, though he worksever silently and unobtrusively. Is he not always beforehand with yourking? When Francis was preparing the gorgeous field of the cloth ofgold for his English brother, did not Charles quietly leave for thelittle isle, and th
ere, without beat of drum, arrange his own affairsbefore Henry was even seen by your pleasure-loving monarch? Yes; tothe impostor and to Francis, Charles is in Austria; to us--for now youshare my secret--is he in Spain, where by swift riding he may be found,and yet interdict in this matter."

  "Then why--haven't you ere this fled to the emperor with the news?"

  "Last night I had determined to get away, when first I was assaulted byan assassin of the impostor, and next detained by his troop and broughtback to the castle. I had even left on foot, trusting to excite lesssuspicion, and hoping to find a horse on the way, but fortune was withthe pretender. So here am I, closely watched--and waiting," he addedgrimly.

  The listener's demeanor was imperturbability itself. He knew why theother had taken him into his confidence, and understood the silentappeal as plainly as though words had uttered it. Perhaps he dulyweighed the perils of a flight without permission from the court of theexacting and capricious monarch, and considered the hazards of the tripitself through a wild and brigand-infested country. Possibly, thethought of the princess moved him, for despite his irony, it was hismocking fate to entertain in his breast, against his will, a covertsympathy for the gentler sex; or, looking into the passionate face ofhis companion, he may have been conscious of some bond of brotherhood,a fellow-feeling that could not resist the call upon his good-will andamicable efforts. The indifference faded from Caillette's face andalmost a boyish enthusiasm shone in his eyes.

  "_Mon ami_, I'll do it!" he exclaimed, lightly. "I'll ride to theemperor for you."

  Silently the jester of the duke wrung his hand. "I've long sighed foran adventure," laughed Caillette. "And here is the opportunity.Caillette, a knight-errant! But"--his face falling--"the emperor willlook on me as a madman."

  "Nay," replied the duke's _plaisant_, "here is a letter. When he readsit he will, at least, think the affair worth consideration. He knowsme, and trusts my fidelity, and will be assured I would not jest onsuch a serious matter. Believe me, he will receive you as more than amadman."

  "Why, then, 'twill be a rare adventure," commented the other."Wandering in the country; the beautiful country, where I was reared;away from the madness of courts. Already I hear the wanton breezessighing in Sapphic softness and the forests' elegiac murmur. Tell me,how shall I ride?"

  "As a knight to the border; thence onward as a minstrel. In Spainthere's always a welcome for a blithe singer."

  "'Tis fortunate I learned some Spanish love songs from a fair senorawho was in Charles' retinue the time he visited Francis," addedCaillette. "An I should fail?" he continued, more gravely.

  "You will not fail," was the confident reply.

  "I am of your mind, but things will happen--sometimes--and why do younot speak to the princess herself--to warn her--"

  "Speak to her!" repeated the duke's jester, a shadow on his brow."When he has appealed to her, perhaps--when--" He broke off abruptly.His tone was proud; in his eyes a look which Caillette afterwardunderstood. As it was, the latter nodded his head wisely.

  "A woman whose fancy is touched is--what she is," he commented,generally. "Truly it would be a more thankless task, even, thanapproaching the king. For women were ever creatures of caprice, not tobe governed by any court of logic, but by the whimsical, fantasticrules of Marguerite's court. Court!" he exclaimed. "The word suggestslaw; reason; where merit hath justice. Call it not Love's Court, butlove's caprice, or crochet. But look you, there's another channel tothe princess' mind--yonder black-browed maid--our ally in motley--whenshe chooses to wear it--Jacqueline."

  "She likes me not," returned the fool. "Would she believe me in suchan important matter?"

  "I'm afraid not," tranquilly replied Caillette, "in view of theimprobability of your tale and the undoubted credentials held by thispretender. For my part, to look at the fellow was almost enough. Butto the ladies, his brutality signifieth strength and power; and hisuncouthness, originality and genius. Marguerite, even, is prepossessedin his favor and has written a platonic poem in his honor. As for theprincess"--pressing the other's arm gently--"do you not know, _monami_, that women are all alike? There is but one they obey--theking--that is as high as their ambitions can reach--and even him theydeceive. Why, the Countess d'Etampes--but this is no time for gossip.We are fools, you and I, and love, my friend, is but broad farce at thebest."

  Even as he spoke thus, however, from the lists came the voices of thewell-instructed heralds, secretaries of the occasion, who had delveddeeply into the practices of the merry and ancient pastime: "Love ofladies! For you and glory! Chivalry but fights for love. Look down,fair eyes!" a peroration which was answered with many pieces of silverfrom the galleries above, and which the gorgeously dressed officialsreadily unbent to gather. Among the fair hands which rewarded thisperfunctory apostrophe to the tender passion none was more lavish inofferings than those matrons and maids in the vicinity of the king. Asatirical smile again marred Caillette's face, but he kept hisreflections to himself, reverting to the business of the moment.

  "I should be off at once!" he cried. "But what can we do? The kinghath commanded all the jesters to appear in the tournament to-day,properly armed and armored, the better to make sprightlier sport amidthe ponderous pastime of the knights. Here am I bound to shine onhorseback, willy-nilly. Yet this matter of yours is pressing. Stay!I have it. I can e'en fall from my horse, by a ruse, retire from thefield, and fly southward."

  "Then will I wish you Godspeed, now," said the duke's fool. "Never wasa stancher heart than thine, Caillette, or a truer friend."

  "One word," returned the other, not without a trace of feeling whicheven his cynicism could not hide. "Beware of the false duke in thearena! It will be his opportunity to--"

  "I understand," answered the duke's fool, again warmly pressingCaillette's hand, "but with the knowledge you are fleeing to Spain Ihave no fear for the future. If we meet not after to-day--"

  "Why, life's but a span, and our friendship has been short, but sweet,"added the other.

  Now without sounded a flourish of trumpets and every glance wasexpectantly down-turned from the crowded stand, as with a clatter ofhoofs and waving of plumes France's young chivalry dashed into thelists, divided into two parties, took their respective places and, at asignal from the musicians, started impetuously against one another.