Under the Rose

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE DESERTED HUT

  "Himself!" laughed the minstrel. "Did I not tell you I should become aSpanish troubadour?" Then, reaching out his hand, he added seriously:"Right pleased am I to meet you. But how came you here?"

  "I have fled from the keep of the old castle, where I lay charged withheresy," answered the jester, returning the hearty grip.

  "The keep!" exclaimed Caillette in surprise. "You are fortunate not tohave been brought to trial," he added, thoughtfully. "Few get throughthat seine, and his Holiness, the pope, I understand, has ordered themeshes made yet smaller."

  They had paused on the brow of a hill, commanding the view of road andtavern. Dazed, the young girl had listened to the greeting between thetwo men. This ragged, beard-begrown troubadour, the graceful, elegantCaillette of Francis' court? It seemed incredible. At the same time,through her mind passed the memory of the _plaisant's_ reiteratedexclamation in prison: "Caillette--in Spain!"--words she had attributedto fever, not imagining they had any foundation in fact.

  But now this unexpected encounter abruptly dispelled her firstsupposition and opened a new field for speculation. Certainly had hebeen on a mission of some kind, somewhere, but what his errand shecould not divine. A diplomat in tatters, serving a fellow-jester.Fools had oft intruded themselves in great events ere this, but notthose who wore the motley; heretofore had the latter been content withthe posts of entertainers, leaving to others the more precariousoffices of intrigant.

  But if she was surprised at Caillette's unexpected presence anddisguise, that counterfeit troubadour had been no less amazed to seeher, the joculatrix of the princess, in the mean garb of a wayside_ministralissa_, wandering over the country like one born to thenomadic existence. That she had a nature as free as air and the spiritof a gipsy he well believed, but that she would forego the security ofthe royal household for the discomforts and dangers of a vagrant lifehe could not reconcile to that other part of her character which heknew must shrink from the actualities of the straggler's lot. He hadwatched her at the inn; how she held herself; how she was a part of,and yet apart from, that migratory company; and what he had seen hadbut added to his curiosity.

  "Have you left the court, mistress?" he now asked abruptly.

  "Yes," she answered, curtly.

  Caillette gazed at her and her eyes fell. Then put out with herselfand him, she looked up boldly.

  "Why not?" she demanded.

  "Why not, indeed?" he repeated, gently, although obviously wondering.

  The constraint that ensued between them was broken by a new aspect ofthe distant conflagration. Fanned by the breeze, the flames hadignited the thatched roof of the hostelry and fiery forks shot up intothe sky, casting a fierce glow over the surrounding scene. Through theglare, many birds, unceremoniously routed from their nests beneath theeaves, flew distractedly. Before the tavern, now burning on all sides,could be distinguished a number of figures, frantically running hitherand thither, while above the crackling of the flames and the clamorouscries of the birds was heard the voice of the proprietor, alternatelypleading with the knaves to save the tavern and execrating him who hadapplied the torch.

  "_Cap de Dieu_! the landlord will snare no more travelers," saidCaillette. "My horse had become road-worn and perforce I had tarriedthere sufficient while to know the company and the host. When youwalked in with this fair maid, I could hardly believe my eyes. 'Twas anice trap, and the landlord an unctuous fellow for a villain. Assuredthat you could not go out as you came, I e'en prepared a lessconventional means of exit."

  He had scarcely finished this explanation when, with a shower of sparksand a mighty crash, the heavy roof fell. A lambent flame burst fromthe furnace; grew brighter, until the clouds became rose-tinted; aglory as brilliant as short-lived, for soon the blaze subsided, theglow swiftly faded, and the sky again darkened.

  "It is over," murmured Caillette; and, as they touched their horses,leaving the smoldering ruins behind them, he added: "But how came thescamp-student to serve you? I was watching closely, and listening,too; so caught how 'twas done."

  "I spared his life once," answered the jester.

  "And he remembered? 'Tis passing strange from such a rogue. A cleverdevice, to warn you in Latin that his friends intended to kill one orboth of you for the jeweled sword."

  "Why," spoke up the young girl, her attention sharply arrested, "was itnot a mere discussion of some kind? And--the quarrel?"

  "A pretense on the rogue's part to avert the suspicion of the master ofthe boar. I could but marvel"--to the jester--"at your forbearance."

  "I fear me Jacqueline had the right to a poor opinion of her squire,"replied the duke's fool. "Nor do I blame her," he laughed, "inesteeming a stout bolt more protection than a craven blade."

  But the girl did not answer. Through her brain flashed therecollection of her cold disdain; her scornful words; her abruptdismissal of the jester at her door. Weighing what she had said anddone with what he had not said and done, she turned to him quickly,impulsively. Through the semi-darkness she saw the smile around hismouth and the quizzical look with which he was regarding her.Whereupon her courage failed. She bit her lip and remained silent.They had now passed the brow of the hill; on each side of the highwaythe forests parted wider and wider, and the thoroughfare was bathed ina white light.

  As they rode along on this clearly illumined highway, Caillette glancedinterrogatively at the _plaisant_. The outcome of his journey--shouldhe speak now? Or later--when they were alone? Heretofore neither hadmade reference to it; Caillette, perhaps, because his mind had beensurprised into another train of thought by this unexpected encounter;the duke's fool because the result of the journey was no longermomentous. Since the other had left, conditions were different. Thegood-natured scoffing and warnings of his fellow-jester had proved notunwarranted.

  The answer of the duke's fool to his companion's glance was a directinquiry.

  "You found the emperor?" he said.

  "Yes; and presented your message with some misgiving."

  "And did he treat it with the scant consideration you expected?"

  "On the contrary. His Majesty read it not once, but twice, and changedcolor."

  "And then?"

  The narrator paused and furtively surveyed the jestress. Her face waspale, emotionless; as they sped on, she seemed riding through novolition of her own, the while she was vaguely conscious of thedialogue of her companions.

  "Whatever magic your letter contained," resumed Caillette, "it seemedconvincing to Charles. 'My brother Francis must be strangely credulousto be so cozened by an impostor,' quoth he, with a gleam of humor inhis gaze."

  "Impostor!" It was the young girl who spoke, interrupting, in hersurprise, the troubadour's story.

  "You did not know, mistress?" said Caillette.

  "No," she answered, and listened the closer.

  "When I left, two messages the emperor gave me," went on the other;"one for the king, the other for you." And taking from his doublet adocument, weighted with a ponderous disk, the speaker handed it to theduke's fool, who silently thrust it in his breast. "Moreover,unexpectedly, but as good fortune would have it, his Majesty was eventhen completing preparations for a journey through France to theNetherlands, owing to unlooked-for troubles in that part of hisdomains, and had already despatched his envoys to the king. Charlesassured me that he would still further hasten his intended visit to theLow Countries and come at once. Meanwhile his communication to theking"--tapping his breast--"will at least delay the nuptials, and, withthe promise of the emperor's immediate arrival, the marriage can notoccur."

  "It has occurred," said the jester.

  The other uttered a quick exclamation. "Then have I failed in myerrand," he muttered, blankly. "But the king--had he no suspicion?"

  "It was through the Countess d'Etampes the monarch was led to changethe time for the festivities," spoke up Jacqueline, involuntarily.

  "Sh
e!" exclaimed the poet, with a gesture of half-aversion. For sometime they went on without further words; then suddenly Caillette drewrein.

  "This news makes it the more necessary I should hasten to the king," hesaid. "The emperor's message--Francis should receive it at once.Here, therefore, must I leave you. Or, why do you not return withme?"--addressing the jester. "The letter from Charles will exonerateyou and Francis will reward you in proportion to the injuries you havesuffered. What say you, mistress?"

  "That I will never go back," she answered, briefly, and looked away.

  Caillette's perplexity was relieved by the _plaisant_. "Farewell, ifyou must leave," said the latter. "We meet again, I trust."

  "The fates willing," returned the poet. "Farewell, and good fortune gowith you both." And wheeling abruptly, he rode slowly back. Thejester and the girl watched him disappear over the road they had come.

  "A true friend," said the _plaisant_, as Caillette vanished in thegloom.

  "You regret not returning with him, perhaps?" she observed quickly."Honors and offices of preferment are not plentiful."

  "I want none of them from Francis," he returned, as they started slowlyon their way.

  The road before them descending gradually, passed through a gulch,where the darkness was greater, and such light as sifted through thelarch and poplar trees rested in variable spots on the earth. Overheadthe somber obscurity appeared touched with a veil of shimmer or sheenlike diamond dust floating through the mask of night. Their horses butcrept along; the girl bent forward wearily; heretofore the excitementand danger had sustained her, but now the reaction from all she hadendured bore down upon her. She thought of calling to the fool; ofcraving the rest she so needed; but a feeling of pride, or constraint,held her silent. Before her the shadows danced illusively; the film ofbrightness changed and shifted; then all glimmering and partial shadewere swallowed up in a black chasm.

  Riding near, the jester observed her form sway from side to side, andspurred forward. In a moment he had clasped her waist, then lifted herfrom the saddle and held her before him.

  "Jacqueline!" he cried.

  She offered no resistance; her head remained motionless on his breast.Sedulously he bent over her; the warm breath reassured him; tirednature had simply succumbed. Irresolute he paused, little liking thesequestered gulch for a resting-place; divining the prickly thicket andalmost impenetrable brushwood that lined the road. An unhealthy miasmaseemed to ascend from below and clog the air; through the tangle offorest, phosphorus gleamed and glowworms flitted here and there.

  Gathering the young form gently to him, the jester rode slowly on, andthe horse of his companion followed. So he went, he knew not how long;listening to her breathing that came, full and deep; half-fearing,half-wondering at that relaxation. For the first time he forgot aboutthe emperor and his purpose; the free baron and the desires of sweetavengement. He thought only of her he held; how courageous yet aloneshe was in the world; how she had planned the service which won her theright to his protection; her flight from Francis--but where? To whomcould she go? To whom could she turn? Unconscious she lay in his armsin that deep sleep, or heavy inertia following exhaustion, her paleface against his shoulder; and as the young _plaisant_ bent over herhis heart thrilled with protecting tenderness.

  "Why, what other maid," he thought, "would ride on until she dropped?Would meet discomfort at every turn with a jest or a merry stave?"

  And, but for him, whom else had she? This young girl, had she notbecome his burden of responsibility; his moral obligation? For thefirst time he seemed to realize how the fine tendrils of her nature hadtouched his; touched and clung, ever so gently but fast. Her finescorn for dissimulation; her answering integrity; the true adjustmentof her instinct--all had been revealed to him under the test ofuntoward circumstances.

  He saw her, too, secretly and silently cherishing a new faith in herbosom, amid a throng, lax and infirm of purpose, and wonderment gaveway to another emotion, as his mind leaped from that past, with itscovert, inner life, to the untrammeled moment when she had thrown offthe mask in the solitude of the forest. Had some deeper chord of hisnature been struck then? Their aspirations of a kindred hope hadmingled in the majestic psalm; a larger harmony, remote from roundelay,or sparkling cadenza, that drew him to this Calvin maid. A solemnearnestness fell upon his spirits; the starlight bathed his brow, andhe found the mystery of the night and nature inexplicably beautiful.

  Afar the bell of some wanderer from the herd tinkled drowsily, arousinghim from his reverie. The horses were ascending; the road emerged intoa plain, set with bracken and gorse, with here and there a single tree,whose inclining trunk told of storms braved for many seasons. Near thehighway, in the shadow of a poplar, stood a shepherd's hut, apparentlydeserted and isolated from human kind. The fool reined the horse,which for some time had been moving painfully, and at that abruptcessation of motion the jestress looked up with a start.

  Meeting his eyes, at first she did not withdraw her own; questioningly,her bewildered gaze encountered his; then, with a quick movement, shereleased herself from his arm and sprang to the ground. He, too,immediately dismounted. She felt very wide-awake now, as though thesudden consciousness of that encircling grasp, or something in hisglance before she slipped from him, had startled away the torpor ofsomnolence.

  "You fainted, or fell asleep, mistress," he said, quietly.

  "Yes--I remember--in the gorge."

  "It was impossible to stop there, so--I rode on. But here, in thisshepherd's hut, we may find shelter."

  And turning the horses, he would have led them to the door, but theanimals held back; then stood stock-still. Striding to the hut, thejester stepped in, but quickly sprang to one side, and as he did sosome creature shot out of the door and disappeared in the gloom.

  "A wolf!" exclaimed the _plaisant_.

  Entering the hut once more, he struck a light. In a corner lay furzeand firewood, and from this store he drew, heaping the combustiblematerial on the hearth, until a cheering blaze fairly illumined theworn and dilapidated interior. Near the fireplace were a pot andkettle, whose rusted appearance bespoke long disuse; but a trencher andporridge spoon on a stool near by seemed waiting the coming of themaster. A couch of straw had been the lonely shepherd's bed--and laterthe lodgment of his enemy, the wolf. Above it, on the wall, hung asmall crucifix of wood. For the fugitives this mean abode appeared noindifferent shelter, and it was with satisfaction the jester arranged acouch for the girl, before the fire, a rude pallet, yet--

  "Here you may rest, Jacqueline, without fear of being disturbed againthis night," he said.

  She sank wearily upon the straw; then gave him her hand gratefully.Her face looked rosy in the reflection from the hearth; a comfortingsense of warmth crept over her as she lay in front of the blaze; hereyes were languorous with the luxury of the heat after a chilling ride.Drawing the cloak to her chin, she smiled faintly. Was it at hissolicitude? He noticed how her hair swept from the saddle pillowingher head, to the earth; and, sitting there on the stool, wondering,perhaps, at its abundance, or half-dreaming, he forgot he yet held herhand. Gently she withdrew it, and he started; then, realizing how hehad been staring at her, with somewhat vacant gaze, perhaps, butfixedly, he made a motion to rise, when her voice detained him.

  "Why did you not tell me it was not a discussion with thescamp-student?" she asked. "Why did you let me imagine that you--"Her eyes said the rest. "You should not have permitted me to--to thinkit," she reiterated.

  He was silent. She closed her eyes; but in a moment her lashesuplifted. Her glance flashed once more upon him.

  "And I should not have thought it," she said.

  "Jacqueline!" he cried, starting up.

  She did not answer; indeed, seemed sleeping; her face turned from him.

  Through the open doorway a streak of red in the east heralded thecoming glory of the morn. "Peep, peep," twittered a bird on the roofof the hovel. From the poplar
it was answered by a more melodiousphrase, a song of welcome to the radiant dawn. A moment the jesterlistened, his head raised to the growing splendor of the heavens, thenthrew himself on the earthen floor of the hut and was at once overcomewith sleep.