Under the Rose

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XX

  AN UNEQUAL CONFLICT

  Surveying his room carefully in the dim light of a candle, the fooldiscovered he stood in a small apartment, with a single window, whosebarren furnishings consisted of a narrow couch, a chair and a massivewardrobe. Unlike the chamber assigned to Jacqueline, the door waswithout key or bolt; a significant fact to the jester, in view of thewarning he had received. Nor was it possible to move wardrobe or bed,the first being too heavy and the last being screwed to the floor, hadthe occupant desired to barricade himself from the anticipated dangerwithout. A number of suspicious stains enhanced the gruesome characterof the room, and as these appeared to lead to the wardrobe, the jestercarried his investigation to a more careful survey of that imposingpiece of furniture. Opening the door, although he could not find thesecret of the mechanism, the fool concluded that the floor of thisponderous wooden receptacle was a trap through which the body of thevictim could be secretly lowered.

  This brief exploration of his surroundings occupied but a few moments,and then, after blowing out the candle and heaping the clothes togetheron the bed into some resemblance of a human figure lying there, thejester drew his sword and softly crept down the passage toward thestairs, at the head of which he paused and listened. He could hear thevoices and see the shadows of the men below, and, with beating heart,descended a few steps that he might catch what they were saying.Crouching against the wall, with bated breath, he heard first thelandlord's tones.

  "Well, rogues, what say you to another sack of wine?" asked the host,cheerily.

  "It will serve--while we wait," ominously answered the master of theboar.

  "Haven't we waited long enough?" said an impatient voice.

  "Tut! tut! young blood," growled another, reprovingly. "Would youdisturb him at his prayers?"

  "The landlord is right," spoke up the leader. "We have the nightbefore us. Bring the wine."

  In stentorian tones the host called the serving-man, and soon from theclinking of cups, the clearing of throats, and the exclamations ofsatisfaction, foully expressed, the listening jester knew that the skinhad been circulated and the tankards filled. One man even began tosing again an equivocal song, but was stopped by a warning imprecationto which he ill-naturedly responded with a half-defiant curse.

  "Knaves! knaves!" cried the reproachful voice of the landlord. "Canyou not drink together like honest men?"

  This mild expostulation of the host seemed not without its effect, forthe impending quarrel passed harmlessly away.

  "Where, think you, he got the sword?" asked one of the gathering,reverting to the enterprise in hand.

  "Stole it, most likely," replied the leader. "It is booty from thepalace."

  "And therefore is doubly fair spoils," laughed another.

  "Remember, rogues," interrupted the host, "one-third is my allottedportion. Else we fall out."

  "Art so solicitous, thou corpulent scrimp!" grumbled he of the boar."Have you not always had the hulking share? Pass the wine!"

  "Foul names break no bones," laughed the host. "You were always achurlish, ungentle knave. There's the wine, an it's not better thanyour temper, beshrew me for the enemy of true hospitality. But to showI am none such, here's something to sup withal; prime head of calf.Bolt and swig, as ye will."

  The rattle of dishes and the play of forks succeeded this good-naturedsuggestion. It was truly evident mine host commanded the good will andthe services of the band by appealing to their appetites. An esculentroast or pungent stew was his cure for uprising or rebellion; ahigh-seasoned ragout or fricassee became a sovereign remedy againsttreachery or defection. He could do without them, for knaves wereplentiful, but they could not so easily dispense with this fat masterof the board who had a knack in turning his hand at marvelous andsavory messes, for which he charged such full reckoning that his thirdof the spoils, augmented by subsequent additions, was like to becomeall.

  A wave of anger against this unwieldy hypocrite and well-fed malefactorswept over the jester. The man's assumed heartiness, his manner ofjoviality and good-fellowship, were only the mask of moral turpitudeand blackest purpose. But for the lawless scholar, the fool wouldprobably have retired to his bed with full confidence in the probityand honesty of the greatest delinquent of them all.

  "What shall we do with the girl?" asked one of the outlaws,interrupting this trend of thought in the listener's mind.

  "Serve her the same as the fool," answered the landlord, carelessly.

  "But she's a handsome wench," retorted the leader, thoughtfully."Straight as a poplar; eyes like a sloe. With the boar and the jade, Ishould do well, when I become tired resting here."

  "If she's as easily tamed as the boar?" suggested the host,significantly.

  "Devil take me, if her nails are as long as his tusks," retorted thefollow, with a coarse laugh.

  "An I had a hostelry in town, she could bait the nobles thither,"commented the host, thoughtfully.

  "Give her to the scamp-student," remarked the fellow who had firstspoken.

  "Nay, since Nanette ran off with a street singer and left mespouseless, I have made a vow of celibacy," hastily answered the pipingvoice of the lank scholar.

  A series of loud guffaws greeted the scamp-student's declaration, whilethe subsequent rough humor of the knaves made the listener's cheek burnwith indignation. Yet forced to listen he was, knowing that theslightest movement on his part would quickly seal the fate of himselfand the young girl. But every fiber of his being revoked against thatribald talk; he bit his lip hard, hearing her name bandied about bymiscreants and wretches of the lowest type, and even welcomed astartling change in the discourse, occasioned by the leader.

  "Enough, rogues. We must settle with the jester first. Afterward, itwill be time enough to deal with the maid. Hast done feeding andtippling yet, morio?"

  "Yes, master," said the suspiciously muffled voice of the imbecile.

  "Here's the knife then. You shall have another tankard when you comeback."

  "Another tankard!" muttered the creature.

  At these significant words, knowing that the crucial moment had come,the jester retreated rapidly, and, making his way down the passage,stood in a dark corner near his room. As of one accord the voicesceased below; a heavy creaking announced the approach of the morio;nearer and nearer, first on the stairs, then in the upper corridor.From where he remained concealed the fool dimly discerned the figure ofthe would-be assassin.

  At the door of the jestress' room it paused. The fool lifted hisblade; the form passed on. Before the chamber of the _plaisant_ itsmovements became more stealthy; it bent and listened. Should thejester spring upon it now? A strange loathing made him hesitate, and,before he had time to carry his purpose into execution, the creature,throwing aside further pretense of caution, swung back the door andlaunched himself across the apartment. A heavy blow, swiftly followedby another; afterward, the stillness of death.

  Every moment the jester expected an outcry; the announcement of thefruitlessness of the attack, but the morio made no sound. The silencebecame oppressive; the _plaisant_ felt almost irresistibly impelledtoward that terrible chamber, when with heavy, lumbering step, thecreature reappeared, traversed the hall like a huge automaton andmechanically descended the stairs. Recovering from his surprise, thefool again resumed his position commanding the scene below, andbreathlessly awaited the sequel to the singular pantomime he hadwitnessed.

  "Well, is it done?" asked the harsh voice of the master of the boar.

  "Yes; done!" was the submissive answer.

  "Good! Now to get the sword."

  "Not so fast," broke in the landlord. "Do you kill, morio, withoutdrawing blood? Look at his dagger."

  The leader took the blade, examined it, and then began to call downcurses on the head of the imbecile monster. "Clean, save for a threadof cotton," he cried angrily. "You never went near him."

  "Yes, yes, master!" replied the creature, eagerly.


  "Then, perhaps, you strangled him?" suggested the man.

  "No; stab! stab!" reiterated the morio, in an almost imploring tone,shrinking from the glances cast upon him.

  "Bah! You stabbed the bed, fool; not the man," roughly returned theother. "The rogue has guessed our purpose and left the room," hecontinued, addressing the others. "But he's skulking somewhere. Well,knaves, here's a little coursing for us all. Up with you, morio, andfind him. Perhaps, though, he may prefer to come down." And theleader called out: "Give yourself up, rascal, or it will be the worsefor you."

  To this paradoxical threat no answer was returned. Standing in theshadow at the head of the stairs, the jester only gripped tighter thehilt of the coveted sword, while across his vision flashed the pictureof the young girl, left helpless, alone! What mercy would they show?The coarse words of the master of the boar and the gibing, looseresponses of the company recurred to him, and, setting his jaw firmer,the plaisant peered, with gleaming eyes, down into the semi-gloom.

  "You won't answer?" cried the leader, after a short interval. "Smellhim out then, rogues."

  Knife in hand, the others at his heels, the morio slowly made his wayup the stairs. Goaded by the taunts of the outlaws, his face wasdistorted with ferocity; through his lips came a fierce, sibilantbreathing; in the dim light his colossal figure and enormous headseemed in no wise human, but rather a murderous phantasm. With headrolling from side to side, stabbing in the air with his knife, hecontinued to approach,--an object calculated to strike terror into anybreast.

  "Oh! oh!" murmured a voice behind the jester, and, turning, he sawJacqueline. Disturbed by the tumult and the loud voices, the jestresshad left her room to learn the cause of the unusual din, and now, withher dark hair a cloud around her, stood gazing fearfully over thefool's shoulder.

  At the sound of the young girl's voice, so near, the _plaisant's_ hand,which for the moment had been unsteady, became suddenly steel. Almostimpatiently he awaited the coming of the morio; at last he drew near,but, as if instinctively realizing the presence of danger, paused, hisarm ceasing to strike, but remaining stationary in the air.

  "Go on!" impatiently shouted those behind him.

  At the command the creature sprang forward furiously, when the sword ofthe jester shot out; once, twice! From the morio's grip fell thedagger; over his face the lust for killing was replaced by a look ofsurprise; with a single moan, he threw both arms on high, and,tottering like an oak, the monster fell backward with a crash, carryingwith him the rogues behind. Imprecations, threats and cries of painensued; several knaves went limping away from the struggling group; onelay prostrate as the morio himself; the master of the boar rubbed hisshoulder, anathematizing roundly the cause of the disaster.

  "I think my arm's put out!" he said. "Is the creature dead?" he added,viciously.

  "Dead as a herring," answered the landlord, bending over the motionlessfigure.

  "Beshrew me, I thought the jester was a craven," growled he of theboar. "What does it mean?"

  "That he saw the snare and spread another," replied the host.

  "Go back to your room, mistress," whispered the plaisant to the younggirl, "and lock yourself in."

  "Nay; I'll not leave you," she replied. "Do you think they willreturn?" she added in a voice she strove to make firm.

  "I am certain of it. Go, I beg you--to your window and call out. Itis a slender hope, but the best we have. Fear not; I can hold thestairs yet a while."

  A moment she hesitated, then glided away. At the same time he of theboar grasped a sword in his left hand, and, with his right hanginguseless, rushed up the stairs.

  "Oh, there you are, my nimble wit-cracker!" he cried, as the jesterstepped boldly out. "'Twas a pretty piece of foolery you played on themonster and us, but quip for quirk, my merry wag!" And, so speaking,he directed a violent thrust which, had it taken effect, would, indeed,have made good the leader's threat.

  But the _plaisant_ stepped aside, the blow grazed his shoulder, whilehis own blade, by a rapid counter, passed through the throat of hisantagonist. With a shriek, the blood gushing from the wound, themaster of the boar fell lifeless on the stairs, his sword clatteringdownward. At that gruesome sight, his fellows paused irresolute, and,seeing their indecision, the jester rushed headlong upon them, strikingfiercely, when their hesitation turned into panic and the knaves fairlyfled. Below, the irate landlord stamped and fumed, cuffing andstriking as he moved among them with threats and abuse.

  "White-livered varlets! Pigeon-hearted rogues! Unmanned by a motleyfool! A witling the lords beat with their slippers! Because of achance blow against an imbecile, or a disabled man, you hesitate. Afig for them! What if they be dead? The spoil will be the greater forthe rest."

  Thus exhorted, the knaves once more took heart and gathered for theattack. Glaves were provided for those in front, and the _plaisant_waited, grimly determined, yet liking little the aspect of thoseterrible weapons and feeling the end of the unequal contest was not fardistant, when a light hand was laid on his arm.

  "Follow me quickly," said Jacqueline. "We may yet escape. Don'tquestion me, but come!" she went on hurriedly.

  Impressed by her earnestness, the jester, after a moment's hesitation,obeyed. She led him to her room, closed and locked the door--but notbefore a scampering of feet and sound of voices told them the rogueshad gained the upper passage--and drew him hastily to the window.

  "See," she said eagerly. "A ladder!"

  "And at the foot of the ladder, our horses!" he exclaimed, in surprise."Who has done this?"

  Her response was interrupted by a hand at their door and a clamorwithout, followed by heavy blows.

  "Quick, Jacqueline!" he cried, and helped her to the long ladder, set,as it seemed, providentially against the wall.

  "Can you do it?" he asked, yet holding her hand. Her eyes gave himanswer, and he released her, watching her descend.

  The door quivered beneath the general onslaught of the now exultantoutlaws, and, as a glave shattered the panel the jester threw himselfover the casement. A deafening hubbub ensued; the door suddenly gaveway, and the band rushed into the room. At the same time the_plaisant_ ran down the ladder and sprang to the ground at the younggirl's side. From above came exclamations of wonder and amazement,mingled with invective.

  "They're gone!" cried one.

  "Here they are!" exclaimed another, looking down from the window.

  The jester at once seized the means of descent, but not before the manwho had discovered them was on the upper rounds; a quick effort on thefool's part, and ladder and rogue toppled over together. Theenterprising knave lay motionless where he fell.

  "_Vrai Dieu_! He wanted to come down," said an approving voice.

  Turning, the jester beheld the Spanish troubadour, who was composedlyengaged in placing bundles of straw against the wall of the inn.

  "I don't think he'll bother you any more," continued the minstrel inhis deep tones. "If you'll ride down the road, I'll join you in amoment."

  So saying, he knelt before the combustible accumulation he had beendiligently heaping together and struck a spark which, seizing on thedry material, immediately kindled into a great flame.

  "What are you doing, villain?" roared the landlord from the window,discovering the forks of fire, already leaping and crackling about thetavern.

  "Only making a bonfire of a foul nest," lightly answered the minstrel,standing back as though to admire his handiwork. "Your vile hostelryburns well, my dissembling host."

  "Hell-dog! varlet!" screamed the proprietor, overwhelmed withconsternation.

  "Is it thus you greet your guests?" replied the troubadour, throwinganother bundle of straw upon the already formidable conflagration."You were not wont to be so discourteous, my prince of bonifaces."

  But recovering from his temporary stupor, the landlord, without reply,disappeared from the window.

  "Now may we safely leave the flames to the wind," commented theminstrel,
as he sprang upon a small nag which had been fastened to ashed near by. "As we have burned the roof over our heads," hecontinued, addressing the wondering jester and his companion, who hadalready mounted and were waiting, "let us seek another hostelry."

  Swiftly the trio rode forth from the tavern yard, out into the moonlitroad.

  "Not so quickly, my friends," commented the troubadour. "As I fastenedthe doors and blinds without, we may proceed leisurely, for it will besome time before mine host and his friends can batter their way fromthe inn. Besides, it goes against the grain to run so precipitouslyfrom my fire. Such a beautiful _auto da fe_, as we say in Spain."

  "Who are you, sir?" asked the fool.

  The minstrel laughed, and answered in his natural voice.

  "Don't you know me, _mon ami_?" he said, gaily. "What a jest this willbe at court? How it will amuse the king--"

  "Caillette!" exclaimed the _plaisant_, loudly. "Caillette!"