CHIVALRY

JAMES BRANCH CABELL

1921

TOANNE BRANCH CABELL

 "AINSI A VOUS, MADAME, A MA TRÈS HAULTE ET TRÈS NOBLE DAME, A QUI J'AYME A DEVOIR ATTACHEMENT ET OBÉISSANCE, J'ENVOYE CE LIVRET. "

Introduction

Few of the more astute critics who have appraised the work of JamesBranch Cabell have failed to call attention to that extraordinarycohesion which makes his very latest novel a further flowering of theseed of his very earliest literary work. Especially among his laterbooks does the scheme of each seem to dovetail into the scheme of theother and the whole of his writing take on the character of anuninterrupted discourse. To this phenomenon, which is at once a fact andan illusion of continuity, Mr. Cabell himself has consciouslycontributed, not only by a subtly elaborate use of conjunctions, byrepetition, and by reintroducing characters from his other books, but byactually setting his expertness in genealogy to the genial task ofdevising a family tree for his figures of fiction. 

If this were an actual continuity, more tangible than that fluidabstraction we call the life force; if it were merely a tirelessreiteration and recasting of characters, Mr. Cabell's work would have anunbearable monotony. But at bottom this apparent continuity has no morematerial existence than has the thread of lineal descent. To insistupon its importance is to obscure, as has been obscured, the epic rangeof Mr. Cabell's creative genius. It is to fail to observe that he hastreated in his many books every mainspring of human action and that histhemes have been the cardinal dreams and impulses which have in themheroic qualities. Each separate volume has a unity and harmony of acomplete and separate life, for the excellent reason that with theconsummate skill of an artist he is concerned exclusively in each bookwith one definite heroic impulse and its frustrations. 

It is true, of course, that like the fruit of the tree of life, Mr. Cabell's artistic progeny sprang from a first conceptual germ--"In thebeginning was the Word. " That animating idea is the assumption that iflife may be said to have an aim it must be an aim to terminate insuccess and splendor. It postulates the high, fine importance of excess, the choice or discovery of an overwhelming impulse in life and aconscientious dedication to its fullest realization. It is the qualityand intensity of the dream only which raises men above the biologicalnorm; and it is fidelity to the dream which differentiates theexceptional figure, the man of heroic stature, from the muddling, aimless mediocrities about him. What the dream is, matters not atall--it may be a dream of sainthood, kingship, love, art, asceticism orsensual pleasure--so long as it is fully expressed with all theresources of self. It is this sort of completion which Mr. Cabell haselected to depict in all his work: the complete sensualist inDemetrios, the complete phrase-maker in Felix Kennaston, the completepoet in Marlowe, the complete lover in Perion. In each he has shown thatthis complete self-expression is achieved at the expense of all otherpossible selves, and that herein lies the tragedy of the ideal. Perfection is a costly flower and is cultured only by an uncompromising, strict husbandry. 

All this is, we see, the ideational gonfalon under which surge theromanticists; but from the evidence at hand it is the banner to whichlife also bears allegiance. It is in humanity's records that it hasreserved its honors for its romantic figures. It remembers its Caesars, its saints, its sinners. It applauds, with a complete suspension ofmoral judgment, its heroines and its heroes who achieve the greatestself-realization. And from the splendid triumphs and tragic defeats ofhumanity's individual strivings have come our heritage of wisdom and ofpoetry. 

Once we understand the fundamentals of Mr. Cabell's artistic aims, it isnot easy to escape the fact that in _Figures of Earth_ he undertook thestaggering and almost unsuspected task of rewriting humanity's sacredbooks, just as in _Jurgen_ he gave us a stupendous analogue of theceaseless quest for beauty. For we must accept the truth that Mr. Cabellis not a novelist at all in the common acceptance of the term, but ahistorian of the human soul. His books are neither documentary norrepresentational; his characters are symbols of human desires andmotives. By the not at all simple process of recording faithfully theprojections of his rich and varied imagination, he has written thirteenbooks, which he accurately terms biography, wherein is the bitter-sweettruth about human life. 

II

Among the scant certainties vouchsafed us is that every age lives by itsspecial catchwords. Whether from rebellion against the irking monotonyof its inherited creeds or from compulsions generated by its owncomplexities, each age develops its code of convenient illusions whichminimize cerebration in dilemmas of conduct by postulating anunequivocal cleavage between the current right and the current wrong. Itworks until men tire of it or challenge the cleavage, or untilconditions render the code obsolete. It has in it, happily, a certainpoetic merit always; it presents an ideal to be lived up to; it givesdirection to the uncertain, stray impulses of life. 

The Chivalric code is no worse than most and certainly it is prettierthan some. It is a code peculiar to an age, or at least it flourishesbest in an age wherein sentiment and the stuff of dreams are easilytranslatable into action. Its requirements are less of the intellectthan of the heart. It puts God, honor, and mistress above all else, andstipulates that a knight shall serve these three without anyreservation. It requires of its secular practitioners the holy virtuesof an active piety, a modified chastity, and an unqualified obedience, at all events, to the categorical imperative. The obligation of povertyit omits, for the code arose at a time when the spiritual snobbery ofthe meek and lowly was not pressing the simile about the camel and theeye of the needle. It leads to charming manners and to delicateamenities. It is the opposite of the code of Gallantry, for while thecode of Chivalry takes everything with a becoming seriousness, the codeof Gallantry takes everything with a wink. If one should stoop to pickflaws with the Chivalric ideal, it would be to point out a certainpriggishness and intolerance. For, while it is all very well for one tocherish the delusion that he is God's vicar on earth and to go about hisFather's business armed with a shining rectitude, yet the unhallowed maybe moved to deprecate the enterprise when they recall, with discomfort, the zealous vicarship of, say, the late Anthony J. Comstock. 

But here I blunder into Mr. Cabell's province. For he has joined manygraceful words in delectable and poignant proof of just that lamentabletendency of man to make a mess of even his most immaculate conceivings. When he wrote _Chivalry_, Mr. Cabell was yet young enough to view thecode less with the appraising eye of a pawnbroker than with the ardenteye of an amateur. He knew its value, but he did not know its price. Sohe made of it the thesis for a dizain of beautiful happenings that arealmost flawless in their verbal beauty. 

III

It is perhaps of historical interest here to record the esteem in whichMark Twain held the genius of Mr. Cabell as it was manifested as earlyas a dozen years ago. Mr. Cabell wrote _The Soul of Melicent_, or, as itwas rechristened on revision, _Domnei_, at the great humorist's request, and during the long days and nights of his last illness it was Mr. Cabell's books which gave Mark Twain his greatest joy. This knowledgemitigates the pleasure, no doubt, of those who still, after his fifteenyears of writing, encounter him intermittently with a feeling of havingmade a great literary discovery. The truth is that Mr. Cabell has beendiscovered over and over with each succeeding book from that first fineenthusiasm with which Percival Pollard reviewed _The Eagle's Shadow_ tothat generous acknowledgment by Hugh Walpole that no one in England, save perhaps Conrad and Hardy, was so sure of literary permanence asJames Branch Cabell. 

With _The Cream of the Jest, Beyond Life_, and _Figures of Earth_ beforehim, it is not easy for the perceptive critic to doubt this permanence. One might as sensibly deny a future to Ecclesiastes, _The Golden Ass, Gulliver's Travels_, and the works of Rabelais as to predict oblivionfor such a thesaurus of ironic wit and fine fantasy, mellow wisdom andstrange beauty as _Jurgen_. But to appreciate the tales of _Chivalry_is, it seems, a gift more frequently reserved for the general readerthan for the professional literary evaluator. Certainly years beforediscussion of Cabell was artificially augmented by the suppression of_Jurgen_ there were many genuine lovers of romance who had read thesetales with pure enjoyment. That they did not analyse and articulatetheir enjoyment for the edification of others does not lessen thequality of their appreciation. Even in those years they found inCabell's early tales what we find who have since been directed to themby the curiosity engendered by his later work, namely, a superbcraftsmanship in recreating a vanished age, an atmosphere in keepingwith the themes, a fluid, graceful, personal style, a poetic ecstasy, afine sense of drama, and a unity and symmetry which are the hall-marksof literary genius. 

BURTON RASCOE. New York City, September, 1921. 

Contents

PRECAUTIONAL

THE PROLOGUE

 I THE STORY OF THE SESTINA

 II THE STORY OF THE TENSON

 III THE STORY OF THE RAT-TRAP

 IV THE STORY OF THE CHOICES

 V THE STORY OF THE HOUSEWIFE

 VI THE STORY OF THE SATRAPS

 VII THE STORY OF THE HERITAGE

VIII THE STORY OF THE SCABBARD

 IX THE STORY OF THE NAVARRESE

 X THE STORY OF THE FOX-BRUSH

 THE EPILOGUE

Precautional

Imprimis, as concerns the authenticity of these tales perhaps the lessdebate may be the higher wisdom, if only because this Nicolas de Caen, by common report, was never a Gradgrindian. And in this volume inparticular, writing it (as Nicolas is supposed to have done) in 1470, asa dependant on the Duke of Burgundy, it were but human nature should he, in dealing with the putative descendants of Dom Manuel and Alianora ofProvence, be niggardly in his ascription of praiseworthy traits to anymember of the house of Lancaster or of Valois. Rather must one in commonreason accept old Nicolas as confessedly a partisan writer, who uponoccasion will recolor an event with such nuances as will be leastinconvenient to a Yorkist and Burgundian bias. 

The reteller of these stories needs in addition to plead guilty ofhaving abridged the tales with a free hand. Item, these tales have beena trifle pulled about, most notably in "The Story of the Satraps, " whereit seemed advantageous, on reflection, to put into Gloucester's mouth ahistory which in the original version was related _ab ovo_, and as asort of bungling prologue to the story proper. 

Item, the re-teller of these stories desires hereby to tenderappropriate acknowledgment to Mr. R. E. Townsend for his assistance inmaking an English version of the lyrics included hereinafter; and toavoid discussion as to how freely, in these lyrics, Nicolas hasplagiarized from Raimbaut de Vaqueiras and other elder poets. [1]

And--"sixth and lastly"--should confession be made that in the presentrendering a purely arbitrary title has been assigned this little book;chiefly for commercial reasons, since the word "dizain" has beenadjudged both untranslatable and, in its pristine form, repellantly_outré_. 

2

You are to give my titular makeshift, then, a wide interpretation; andare always to remember that in the bleak, florid age these talescommemorate this Chivalry was much the rarelier significant of anypersonal trait than of a world-wide code in consonance with which allestimable people lived and died. Its root was the assumption(uncontested then) that a gentleman will always serve his God, his honorand his lady without any reservation; nor did the many emanating by-lawsever deal with special cases as concerns this triple, fixed, andfundamental homage. 

Such is the trinity served hereinafter. Now about lady-service, or_domnei_, I have written elsewhere. Elsewhere also I find it recordedthat "the cornerstone of Chivalry is the idea of vicarship: for thechivalrous person is, in his own eyes at least, the child of God, andgoes about this world as his Father's representative in an aliencountry. "

I believe the definition holds: it certainly tends to explain theotherwise puzzling pertinacity with which the characters in these talestalk about God and act upon an assured knowledge as to Heaven's privateintentions and preferences. These people are the members of one familyengrossed, as all of us are apt to be when in the society of our kin, byfamily matters and traditions and by-words. It is not merely that theyare all large children consciously dependent in all things upon a notfoolishly indulgent Father, Who keeps an interested eye upon the leastof their doings, and punishes at need, --not merely that they knowthemselves to act under surveillance and to speak within ear-shot of adivine eavesdropper. The point is, rather, that they know thisobservation to be as tender, the punishment to be as unwilling, as thatwhich they themselves extend to their own children's pranks andmisdemeanors. The point is that to them Heaven is a place as actual andtangible as we consider Alaska or Algiers to be, and that their livingis a conscious journeying toward this actual place. The point is thatthe Father is a real father, and not a word spelt with capital lettersin the Church Service; not an abstraction, not a sort of a somethingvaguely describable as "the Life Force, " but a very famous kinsman, ofwhom one is naïvely proud, and whom one is on the way to visit. . . . Thepoint, in brief, is that His honor and yours are inextricably blended, and are both implicated in your behavior on the journey. 

We nowadays can just cloudily imagine this viewing of life as a sort ofboarding-school from which one eventually goes home, with an officialreport as to progress and deportment: and in retaliation for beingdebarred from the comforts of this view, the psychoanalysts have nodoubt invented for it some opprobrious explanation. At all events, thisChivalry was a pragmatic hypothesis: it "worked, " and served society fora long while, not faultlessly of course, but by creating, like all theother codes of human conduct which men have yet tried, a tragi-comicmêlée wherein contended "courtesy and humanity, friendliness, hardihood, love and friendship, and murder, hate, and virtue, and sin. "

3

For the rest, since good wine needs no bush, and an inferior beverage isnot likely to be bettered by arboreal adornment, I elect to piece outmy exordium (however lamely) with "The Printer's Preface. " And it runsin this fashion:

"Here begins the volume called and entitled the Dizain of Queens, composed and extracted from divers chronicles and other sources ofinformation, by that extremely venerable person and worshipful man, Messire Nicolas de Caen, priest and chaplain to the right noble, glorious and mighty prince in his time, Philippe, Duke of Burgundy, ofBrabant, etc. , in the year of the Incarnation of our Lord God a thousandfour hundred and seventy: and imprinted by me, Colard Mansion, atBruges, in the year of our said Lord God a thousand four hundred andseventy-one; at the commandment of the right high, mighty and virtuousPrincess, my redoubted Lady, Isabella of Portugal, by the grace of GodDuchess of Burgundy and Lotharingia, of Brabant and Limbourg, ofLuxembourg and of Gueldres, Countess of Flanders, of Artois, and ofBurgundy, Palatine of Hainault, of Holland, of Zealand and of Namur, Marquesse of the Holy Empire, and Lady of Frisia, of Salins and ofMechlin; whom I beseech Almighty God less to increase than to continuein her virtuous disposition in this world, and after our poor fleetexistence to receive eternally. Amen. "

THE PROLOGUE

 "_Afin que les entreprises honorables et les nobles aventures et faicts d'armes soyent noblement enregistrés et conservés, je vais traiter et raconter et inventer ung galimatias_. "

THE DIZAIN OF QUEENS OF THAT NOBLE MAKER IN THE FRENCH TONGUE, MESSIRENICOLAS DE CAEN, DEDICATED TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS ISABELLA OF PORTUGAL, OF THE HOUSE OF THE INDOMITABLE ALFONSO HENRIQUES, AND DUCHESS DOWAGEROF BURGUNDY. HERE BEGINS IN AUSPICIOUS WISE THE PROLOGUE. 

The Prologue

A Sa Dame

Inasmuch as it was by your command, illustrious and exalted lady, that Ihave gathered together these stories to form the present little book, you should the less readily suppose I have presumed to dedicate to yourSerenity this trivial offering because of my esteeming it to be notundeserving of your acceptance. The truth is otherwise: your postulantapproaches not spurred toward you by vainglory, but rather by equity, and equity's plain need to acknowledge that he who seeks to write ofnoble ladies must necessarily implore at outset the patronage of her whois the light and mainstay of our age. I humbly bring my book to you asPhidyle approached another and less sacred shrine, _farre pio etsaliente mica_, and lay before you this my valueless mean tribute not asappropriate to you but as the best I have to offer. 

It is a little book wherein I treat of divers queens and of theirlove-business; and with necessitated candor I concede my chosen field tohave been harvested, and scrupulously gleaned, by many writers ofinnumerable conditions. Since Dares Phrygius wrote of Queen Heleine, andVirgil (that shrewd necromancer) of Queen Dido, a preponderating mass ofclerks, in casting about for high and serious matter, have chosen, asthough it were by common instinct, to dilate upon the amours of royalwomen. Even in romance we scribblers must contrive it so that the fairNicolete shall be discovered in the end to be no less than the King'sdaughter of Carthage, and that Sir Doön of Mayence shall never sink inhis love affairs beneath the degree of a Saracen princess; and we arebacked in this old procedure not only by the authority of Aristotle but, oddly enough, by that of reason. 

Kings have their policies and wars wherewith to drug each humanappetite. But their consorts are denied these makeshifts; and love mayrationally be defined as the pivot of each normal woman's life, and inconsequence as the arbiter of that ensuing life which is eternal. Because--as anciently Propertius demanded, though not, to speak thetruth, of any woman--

 Quo fugis? ah demens! nulla est fuga, tu licet usque Ad Tanaim fugias, usque sequetur amor. 

And a dairymaid, let us say, may love whom she will, and nobody else bea penny the worse for her mistaking of the preferable nail whereon tohang her affections; whereas with a queen this choice is moreportentous. She plays the game of life upon a loftier table, ruthlesslyilluminated, she stakes by her least movement a tall pile of counters, some of which are, of necessity, the lives and happiness of persons whomshe knows not, unless it be by vague report. Grandeur sells itself atthis hard price, and at no other. A queen must always play, in fine, asthe vicar of destiny, free to choose but very certainly compelled in theensuing action to justify that choice: as is strikingly manifested bythe authentic histories of Brunhalt, and of Guenevere, and of swartCleopatra, and of many others that were born to the barbaric queenhoodsof extinct and dusty times. 

All royal persons are (I take it) the immediate and the responsiblestewards of Heaven; and since the nature of each man is like a troubledstream, now muddied and now clear, their prayer must ever be, _Defendame, Dios, de me_! Yes, of exalted people, and even of their nearassociates, life, because it aims more high than the aforementionedAristotle, demands upon occasion a more great catharsis, which wouldpurge any audience of unmanliness, through pity and through terror, because, by a quaint paradox, the players have been purged of humanity. For a moment Destiny has thrust her scepter into the hands of a humanbeing and Chance has exalted a human being to decide the issue of manyhuman lives. These two--with what immortal chucklings one may facilelyimagine--have left the weakling thus enthroned, free to direct the heavyoutcome, free to choose, and free to evoke much happiness or age-longweeping, but with no intermediate course unbarred. _Now prove thyself_!saith Destiny; and Chance appends: _Now prove thyself to be at bottom agod or else a beast, and now eternally abide that choice. And now_ (Ocrowning irony!) _we may not tell thee clearly by which choice thoumayst prove either_. 

In this little book about the women who intermarried, not very enviably, with an unhuman race (a race predestinate to the red ending which I havechronicled elsewhere, in _The Red Cuckold_), it is of ten such momentsthat I treat. 

You alone, I think, of all persons living, have learned, as you havesettled by so many instances, to rise above mortality in such a testing, and unfailingly to merit by your conduct the plaudits and the adorationof our otherwise dissentient world. You have often spoken in the steadof Destiny, with nations to abide your verdict; and in so doing haveboth graced and hallowed your high vicarship. If I forbear to speak ofthis at greater length, it is because I dare not couple your well-knownperfection with any imperfect encomium. Upon no plea, however, can anyone forbear to acknowledge that he who seeks to write of noble ladiesmust necessarily implore at outset the patronage of her who is the lightand mainstay of our age. 

_Therefore to you, madame--most excellent and noble lady, to whom I loveto owe both loyalty and love--I dedicate this little book. _

I

_THE STORY OF THE SESTINA_

 "Armatz de fust e de fer e d'acier, Mos ostal seran bosc, fregz, e semdier, E mas cansos sestinas e descortz, E mantenrai los frevols contra 'ls fortz. "

THE FIRST NOVEL. --ALIANORA OF PROVENCE, COMING IN DISGUISE AND INADVERSITY TO A CERTAIN CLERK, IS BY HIM CONDUCTED ACROSS A HOSTILECOUNTRY; AND IN THAT TROUBLED JOURNEY ARE MADE MANIFEST TO EACH THESNARES WHICH HAD BEGUILED THEM AFORETIME. 

The Story of the Sestina

In this place we have to do with the opening tale of the Dizain ofQueens. I abridge, as afterward, at discretion; and an initial accountof the Barons' War, among other superfluities, I amputate as moreremarkable for veracity than interest. The result, we will agree atoutset, is that to the Norman cleric appertains whatever these tales mayhave of merit, whereas what you find distasteful in them you must imputeto my delinquencies in skill rather than in volition. 

Within the half hour after de Giars' death (here one overtakes Nicolasmid-course in narrative) Dame Alianora thus stood alone in the corridorof a strange house. Beyond the arras the steward and his lord were atirritable converse. 

First, "If the woman be hungry, " spoke a high and peevish voice, "feedher. If she need money, give it to her. But do not annoy me. "

"This woman demands to see the master of the house, " the steward thenretorted. 

"O incredible Boeotian, inform her that the master of the house has notime to waste upon vagabonds who select the middle of the night as aneligible time to pop out of nowhere. Why did you not do so in thebeginning, you dolt?" The speaker got for answer only a deferentialcough, and very shortly continued: "This is remarkably vexatious. _Voxet praeterea nihil_--which signifies, Yeck, that to converse with womenis always delightful. Admit her. " This was done, and Dame Alianora cameinto an apartment littered with papers, where a neat and shriveledgentleman of fifty-odd sat at a desk and scowled. 

He presently said, "You may go, Yeck. " He had risen, the magisterialattitude with which he had awaited her entrance cast aside. "Oh, God!"he said; "you, madame!" His thin hands, scholarly hands, were pluckingat the air. 

Dame Alianora had paused, greatly astonished, and there was an intervalbefore she said, "I do not recognize you, messire. "

"And yet, madame, I recall very clearly that some thirty years ago theKing-Count Raymond Bérenger, then reigning in Provence, had about hiscourt four daughters, each one of whom was afterward wedded to a king. First, Meregrett, the eldest, now regnant in France; then Alianora, thesecond and most beautiful of these daughters, whom troubadours hymned asthe Unattainable Princess. She was married a long while ago, madame, tothe King of England, Lord Henry, third of that name to reign in theseislands. "

Dame Alianora's eyes were narrowing. "There is something in your voice, "she said, "which I recall. "

He answered: "Madame and Queen, that is very likely, for it is a voicewhich sang a deal in Provence when both of us were younger. I concedewith the Roman that I have somewhat deteriorated since the reign ofCynara. Yet have you quite forgotten the Englishman who made so manysongs of you? They called him Osmund Heleigh. "

"He made the Sestina of Spring which won the violet crown at mybetrothal, " the Queen said; and then, with eagerness: "Messire, can itbe that you are Osmund Heleigh?" He shrugged assent. She looked at himfor a long time, rather sadly, and demanded if he were the King's man orof the barons' party. 

The nervous hands were raised in deprecation. "I have no politics, "Messire Heleigh began, and altered it, gallantly enough, to, "I am theQueen's man, madame. "

"Then aid me, Osmund, " she said. 

He answered with a gravity which singularly became him, "You have reasonto understand that to my fullest power I will aid you. "

"You know that at Lewes these swine overcame us. " He nodded assent. "Nowthey hold the King, my husband, captive at Kenilworth. I am contentthat he remain there, for he is of all the King's enemies the mostdangerous. But, at Wallingford, Leicester has imprisoned my son, PrinceEdward. The Prince must be freed, my Osmund. Warren de Basingbournecommands what is left of the royal army, now entrenched at Bristol, andit is he who must liberate my son. Get me to Bristol, then. Afterward wewill take Wallingford. " The Queen issued these orders in cheery, practical fashion, and did not admit opposition into the account, forshe was a capable woman. 

"But you, madame?" he stammered. "You came alone?"

"I come from France, where I have been entreating--and vainlyentreating--succor from yet another monkish king, the holy Lewis of thatrealm. Eh, what is God about when He enthrones these whining pieties!Were I a king, were I even a man, I would drive these smug English outof their foggy isle in three days' space! I would leave alive not one ofthese curs that dare yelp at me! I would--" She paused, anger veeringinto amusement. "See how I enrage myself when I think of what yourpeople have made me suffer, " the Queen said, and shrugged her shoulders. "In effect, I skulked back in disguise to this detestable island, accompanied by Avenel de Giars and Hubert Fitz-Herveis. To-night somehalf-dozen fellows--robbers, thorough knaves, like all youEnglish, --attacked us on the common yonder and slew the men of ourparty. While they were cutting de Giars' throat I slipped away in thedark and tumbled through many ditches till I spied your light. There youhave my story. Now get me an escort to Bristol. "

It was a long while before Messire Heleigh spoke. Then, "These men, " hesaid--"this de Giars and this Fitz-Herveis--they gave their lives foryours, as I understand it, --_pro caris amicis_. And yet you do notgrieve for them. "

"I shall regret de Giars, " the Queen acknowledged, "for he madeexcellent songs. But Fitz-Herveis?--foh! the man had a face like ahorse. " Again her mood changed. "Many persons have died for me, myfriend. At first I wept for them, but now I am dry of tears. "

He shook his head. "Cato very wisely says, 'If thou hast need of help, ask it of thy friends. ' But the sweet friend that I remember was a cleaneyed girl, joyous and exceedingly beautiful. Now you appear to me one ofthose ladies of remoter times--Faustina, or Jael, or Artemis, the King'swife of Tauris, --they that slew men, laughing. I am somewhat afraid ofyou, madame. "

She was angry at first; then her face softened. "You English!" she said, only half mirthful. "Eh, my God! you remember me when I was a highhearted young sorceress. Now the powers of the Apsarasas have departedfrom me, and time has thrust that Alianora, who was once theUnattainable Princess, chin deep in misery. Yet even now I am yourQueen, messire, and it is not yours to pass judgment upon me. " "I donot judge you, " he returned. "Rather I cry with him of old, _Omniaincerta ratione!_ and I cry with Salomon that he who meddles with thestrife of another man is like to him that takes a hound by the ears. Yetlisten, madame and Queen. I cannot afford you an escort to Bristol. Thishouse, of which I am in temporary charge, is Longaville, my brother'smanor. Lord Brudenel, as you doubtless know, is of the barons' partyand--scant cause for grief!--is with Leicester at this moment. I cantrust none of my brother's people, for I believe them to be of much thesame opinion as those Londoners who not long ago stoned you and wouldhave sunk your barge in Thames River. Oh, let us not blink the fact thatyou are not overbeloved in England. So an escort is out of the question. Yet I, madame, if you so elect, will see you safe to Bristol. "

"You? Singly?" the Queen demanded. 

"My plan is this: Singing folk alone travel whither they will. We willgo as jongleurs, then. I can yet manage a song to the viol, I dareaffirm. And you must pass as my wife. "

He said this with simplicity. The plan seemed unreasonable, and at firstDame Alianora waved it aside. Out of the question! But reflectionsuggested nothing better; it was impossible to remain at Longaville, andthe man spoke sober truth when he declared any escort other than himselfto be unprocurable. Besides, the lunar madness of the scheme was itsstrength; that the Queen would venture to cross half Englandunprotected--and Messire Heleigh on the face of him was a paste-boardbuckler--was an event which Leicester would neither anticipate nor onreport credit. There you were! these English had no imagination. TheQueen snapped her fingers and said: "Very willingly will I be your wife, my Osmund. But how do I know that I can trust you? Leicester would givea deal for me; he would pay any price for the pious joy of burning theSorceress of Provence. And you are not wealthy, I suspect. "

"You may trust me, mon bel esper, "--his eyes here were those of a beatenchild--"because my memory is better than yours. " Messire Osmund Heleighgathered his papers into a neat pile. "This room is mine. To-night Ikeep guard in the corridor, madame. We will start at dawn. "

When he had gone, Dame Alianora laughed contentedly. "Mon bel esper! myfairest hope! The man called me that in his verses--thirty years ago!Yes, I may trust you, my poor Osmund. "

So they set out at cockcrow. He had procured for himself a viol and along falchion, and had somewhere got suitable clothes for the Queen; andin their aging but decent garb the two approached near enough to theappearance of what they desired to be thought. In the courtyard a knotof servants gaped, nudged one another, but openly said nothing. MessireHeleigh, as they interpreted it, was brazening out an affair ofgallantry before the countryside; and they esteemed his casualobservation that they would find a couple of dead men on the commonexceedingly diverting. 

When the Queen asked him the same morning, "And what will you sing, myOsmund? Shall we begin the practise of our new profession with theSestina of Spring?"--old Osmund Heleigh grunted out: "I have forgottenthat rubbish long ago. _Omnis amans, amens_, saith the satirist of Rometown, and with reason. "

Followed silence. 

One sees them thus trudging the brown, naked plains under a sky ofsteel. In a pageant the woman, full-veined and comely, her russet gowngirded up like a harvester's might not inaptly have prefigured October;and for less comfortable November you could nowhere have found a symbolmore precise than her lank companion, humorously peevish under his whitethatch of hair, and constantly fretted by the sword tapping at hisankles. 

They made Hurlburt prosperously and found it vacant, for the news ofFalmouth's advance had driven the villagers hillward. There was in thisplace a child, a naked boy of some two years, lying on a doorstep, overlooked in his elders' gross terror. As the Queen with a sob liftedthis boy the child died. 

"Starved!" said Osmund Heleigh; "and within a stone's throw of my snughome!"

The Queen laid down the tiny corpse, and, stooping, lightly caressedits sparse flaxen hair. She answered nothing, though her lips moved. 

Past Vachel, scene of a recent skirmish, with many dead in the gutters, they were overtaken by Falmouth himself, and stood at the roadside toafford his troop passage. The Marquess, as he went by, flung the Queen acoin, with a jest sufficiently high flavored. She knew the man herinveterate enemy, knew that on recognition he would have killed her ashe would a wolf; she smiled at him and dropped a curtsey. 

"This is remarkable, " Messire Heleigh observed. "I was hideously afraid, and am yet shaking. But you, madame, laughed. "

The Queen replied: "I laughed because I know that some day I shall haveLord Falmouth's head. It will be very sweet to see it roll in the dust, my Osmund. "

Messire Heleigh somewhat dryly observed that tastes differed. 

At Jessop Minor befell a more threatening adventure. Seeking food at the_Cat and Hautbois_ in that village, they blundered upon the same troopat dinner in the square about the inn. Falmouth and his lieutenants weresomewhere inside the house. The men greeted the supposed purveyors ofamusement with a shout; and one of these soldiers--a swarthy rascal withhis head tied in a napkin--demanded that the jongleurs grace their mealwith a song. 

Osmund tried to put him off with a tale of a broken viol. 

But, "Haro!" the fellow blustered; "by blood and by nails! you will singmore sweetly with a broken viol than with a broken head. I would haveyou understand, you hedge thief, that we gentlemen of the sword are notpartial to wordy argument. " Messire Heleigh fluttered inefficient handsas the men-at-arms gathered about them, scenting some genial piece ofcruelty. "Oh, you rabbit!" the trooper jeered, and caught at Osmund'sthroat, shaking him. In the act this rascal tore open Messire Heleigh'stunic, disclosing a thin chain about his neck and a handsome locket, which the fellow wrested from its fastening. "Ahoi!" he continued. "Ahoi, my comrades, what sort of minstrel is this, who goes aboutEngland all hung with gold like a Cathedral Virgin! He and hissweetheart"--the actual word was grosser--"will be none the worse for aninterview with the Marquess. "

The situation smacked of awkwardness, because Lord Falmouth was familiarwith the Queen, and to be brought specifically to his attention meantdeath for two detected masqueraders. Hastily Osmund Heleigh said:

"Messire, the locket contains the portrait of a lady whom in my youth Iloved very greatly. Save to me, it is valueless. I pray you, do not robme of it. "

But the trooper shook his head with drunken solemnity. "I do not likethe looks of this. Yet I will sell it to you, as the saying is, for asong. "

"It shall be the king of songs, " said Osmund, --"the song that ArnautDaniel first made. I will sing for you a Sestina, messieurs, --a Sestinain salutation of Spring. "

The men disposed themselves about the dying grass, and presently hesang. 

Sang Messire Heleigh:

 "Awaken! for the servitors of Spring Proclaim his triumph! ah, make haste to see With what tempestuous pageantry they bring The victor homeward! haste, for this is he That cast out Winter and all woes that cling To Winter's garments, and bade April be!

 "And now that Spring is master, let us be Content, and laugh, as anciently in spring The battle-wearied Tristan laughed, when he Was come again Tintagel-ward, to bring Glad news of Arthur's victory--and see Ysoude, with parted lips, that waver and cling. 

 "Not yet in Brittany must Tristan cling To this or that sad memory, and be Alone, as she in Cornwall; for in spring Love sows against far harvestings, --and he Is blind, and scatters baleful seed that bring Such fruitage as blind Love lacks eyes to see!"

Osmund paused here for an appreciable interval, staring at the Queen. You saw his flabby throat a-quiver, his eyes melting, saw his cheekskindle, and youth seeping into the lean man like water over a crumblingdam. His voice was now big and desirous. 

Sang Messire Heleigh:

 "Love sows, but lovers reap; and ye will see The loved eyes lighten, feel the loved lips cling, Never again when in the grave ye be Incurious of your happiness in spring, And get no grace of Love there, whither he That bartered life for love no love may bring. 

 "No braggart Heracles avails to bring Alcestis hence; nor here may Roland see The eyes of Aude; nor here the wakening spring Vex any man with memories: for there be No memories that cling as cerements cling, No force that baffles Death, more strong than he. 

 "Us hath he noted, and for us hath he An hour appointed; and that hour will bring Oblivion. --Then, laugh! Laugh, dear, and see The tyrant mocked, while yet our bosoms cling, While yet our lips obey us, and we be Untrammeled in our little hour of spring!

 "Thus in the spring we jeer at Death, though he Will see our children perish and will briny Asunder all that cling while love may be. "

Then Osmund put the viol aside and sat quite silent. The soldieryjudged, and with cordial frankness stated, that the difficulty of hisrhyming scheme did not atone for his lack of indecency, but when theQueen of England went among them with Messire Heleigh's faded green hatshe found them liberal. Even the fellow with the broken head admittedthat a bargain was proverbially a bargain, and returned the locket withthe addition of a coin. So for the present these two went safe, andquitted the _Cat and Hautbois_ fed and unmolested. 

"My Osmund, " Dame Alianora said, presently, "your memory is better thanI had thought. "

"I remembered a boy and a girl, " he returned. "And I grieved that theywere dead. "

Afterward they plodded on toward Bowater, and the ensuing night restedin Chantrell Wood. They had the good fortune there to encounter dry andwindless weather and a sufficiency of brushwood, with which Osmundconstructed an agreeable fire. In its glow these two sat, eating breadand cheese. 

But talk languished at the outset. The Queen had complained of an ague, and Messire Heleigh was sedately suggesting three spiders hung about theneck as an infallible corrective for this ailment, when Dame Alianorarose to her feet. "Eh, my God!" she said; "I am wearied of suchungracious aid! Not an inch of the way but you have been thinking ofyour filthy books and longing to be back at them! No; I except themoments when you were frightened into forgetfulness--first by Falmouth, then by the trooper. O Eternal Father! afraid of a single dirtysoldier!"

"Indeed, I was very much afraid, " said Messire Heleigh, with perfectsimplicity; "_timidus perire, madame. _"

"You have not even the grace to be ashamed! Yet I am shamed, messire, that Osmund Heleigh should have become the book-muddled pedant you are. For I loved young Osmund Heleigh. "

He also had risen in the firelight, and now its convulsive shadowsmarred two dogged faces. "I think it best not to recall that boy andgirl who are so long dead. And, frankly, madame and Queen, the merit ofthe business I have in hand is questionable. It is you who have set allEngland by the ears, and I am guiding you toward opportunities forfurther mischief. I must serve you. Understand, madame, that ancientfolly in Provence yonder has nothing to do with the affair. Count Manuelleft you: and between his evasion and your marriage you were pleased toamuse yourself with me--"

"You were more civil then, my Osmund--"

"I am not uncivil, I merely point out that this old folly constitutesno overwhelming obligation, either way. I cry _nihil ad Andromachen!_For the rest, I must serve you because you are a woman and helpless; yetI cannot forget that he who spares the wolf is the sheep's murderer. Itwould be better for all England if you were dead. Hey, your gorgeousfollies, madame! Silver peacocks set with sapphires! Cloth of finegold--"

"Would you have me go unclothed?" Dame Alianora demanded, pettishly. 

"Not so, " Osmund retorted; "again I say to you with Tertullian, 'Letwomen paint their eyes with the tints of chastity, insert into theirears the Word of God, tie the yoke of Christ about their necks, andadorn their whole person with the silk of sanctity and the damask ofdevotion. ' I say to you that the boy you wish to rescue fromWallingford, and make King of England, is freely rumored to be notverily the son of Sire Henry but the child of tall Manuel of Poictesme. I say to you that from the first you have made mischief in England. AndI say to you--"

But Dame Alianora was yawning quite frankly. "You will say to me that Ibrought foreigners into England, that I misguided the King, that Istirred up strife between the King and his barons. Eh, my God! I amsufficiently familiar with the harangue. Yet listen, my Osmund: Theysold me like a bullock to a man I had never seen. I found him a man ofwax, and I remoulded him. They asked of me an heir for England: Iprovided that heir. They gave me England as a toy; I played with it. Iwas the Queen, the source of honor, the source of wealth--the trough, ineffect, about which swine gathered. Never since I came into England, Osmund, has any man or woman loved me; never in all my English life haveI loved man or woman. Do you understand, my Osmund?--the Queen has manyflatterers, but no friends. Not a friend in the world, my Osmund! And sothe Queen made the best of it and amused herself. "

Somewhat he seemed to understand, for he answered without asperity:

"Mon bel esper, I do not find it anywhere in Holy Writ that God requiresit of us to amuse ourselves; but upon many occasions we have beencommanded to live righteously. We are tempted in divers and insidiousways. And we cry with the Psalmist, 'My strength is dried up like apotsherd. ' But God intends this, since, until we have here demonstratedour valor upon Satan, we are manifestly unworthy to be enregistered inGod's army. The great Captain must be served by proven soldiers. We maybe tempted, but we may not yield. O daughter of the South! we must notyield!"

"Again you preach, " Dame Alianora said. "That is a venerable truism. "

"Ho, madame, " he returned, "is it on that account the less true?"

Pensively the Queen considered this. "You are a good man, my Osmund, "she said, at last, "though you are very droll. Ohimé! it is a pity thatI was born a princess! Had it been possible for me to be your wife, Iwould have been a better woman. I shall sleep now and dream of that goodand stupid and contented woman I might have been. " So presently thesetwo slept in Chantrell Wood. 

Followed four days of journeying. As Messer Dante had not yet surveyedMalebolge, Osmund Heleigh and Dame Alianora lacked a parallel for thatwhich they encountered; their traverse discovered England razed, charred, and depopulate--picked bones of an island, a vast and absoluteruin about which passion-wasted men skulked like rats. Messire Heleighand the Queen traveled without molestation; malice and death hadjourneyed before them on this road, and had swept it clear. 

At every trace of these hideous precessors Osmund Heleigh would say, "Bya day's ride I might have prevented this. " Or, "By a day's ride I mighthave saved this woman. " Or, "By two days' riding I might have fed thischild. "

The Queen kept Spartan silence, but daily you saw the fine woman age. Intheir slow advance every inch of misery was thrust before her forinspection; meticulously she observed and evaluated her handiwork. Enthroned, she had appraised from a distance the righteous wars she setafoot; trudging thus among the débris of these wars, she found they hadunsuspected aspects. Bastling the royal army had recently sacked. There remained of this village the skeletons of two houses, and for therest a jumble of bricks, rafters half-burned, many calcined fragments ofhumanity, and ashes. At Bastling, Messire Heleigh turned to the Queentoiling behind. 

"Oh, madame!" he said, in a dry whisper, "this was the home of so manymen!"

"I burned it, " Dame Alianora replied. "That man we passed just now Ikilled. Those other men and women--my folly slew them all. And littlechildren, my Osmund! The hair like flax, blood-dabbled!"

"Oh, madame!" he wailed, in the extremity of his pity. 

For she stood with eyes shut, all gray. The Queen demanded: "Why havethey not slain me? Was there no man in England to strangle the proudwanton? Are you all cowards here?"

He said: "I detect only one coward in the affair. Your men andLeicester's men also ride about the world, and draw sword and slay anddie for the right as they see it. And you and Leicester contend for theright as ye see it. But I, madame! I! I, who sat snug at home spillingink and trimming rose-bushes! God's world, madame, and I in it afraid tospeak a word for Him! God's world, and a curmudgeon in it grudging Godthe life He gave!" The man flung out his soft hands and snarled: _"Weare tempted in divers and insidious ways. _ But I, who rebuked you!behold, now, with how gross a snare was I entrapped!" "I do notunderstand, my Osmund. "

"I was afraid, madame, " he returned, dully. "Everywhere men fight, and Iam afraid to die. "

So they stood silent in the ruins of Bastling. 

"Of a piece with our lives, " Dame Alianora said at last. "All ruin, myOsmund. "

But Messire Heleigh threw back his head and laughed, new color in hisface. "Presently men will build here, my Queen. Presently, as in legendwas re-born the Arabian bird, arises from these ashes a lordlier andmore spacious town. "

They went forward. The next day chance loosed upon them Gui Camoys, lordof Bozon, Foliot, and Thwenge, who, riding alone through Poges Copse, found there a man and a woman over their limited supper. The woman hadthrown back her hood, and Camoys drew rein to stare at her. Lispingly hespoke the true court dialect. 

"Ma belle, " said this Camoys, in friendly condescension, "n'estez vouspas jongleurs?"

Dame Alianora smiled up at him. "Ouais, messire; mon mary faict leschançons--" She paused, with dilatory caution, for Camoys had leapedfrom his horse, giving a great laugh. 

"A prize! ho, an imperial prize!" Camoys shouted. "A peasant woman withthe Queen's face, who speaks French! And who, madame, is this? Have youby any chance brought pious Lewis from oversea? Have I bagged a braceof monarchs?"

Here was imminent danger, for Camoys had known the Queen some fifteenyears. Messire Heleigh rose, his five days' beard glinting likehoar-frost as his mouth twitched. 

"I am Osmund Heleigh, messire, younger brother to the Earl of Brudenel. "

"I have heard of you, I believe--the fellow who spoils parchment. Thisis odd company, however, Messire Osmund, for Brudenel's brother. "

"A gentleman must serve his Queen, messire. As Cicero very justlyobserves--"

"I am inclined to think that his political opinions are scarcely to ourimmediate purpose. This is a high matter, Messire Heleigh. To let thesorceress pass is, of course, out of the question; upon the other hand, I observe that you lack weapons of defence. Yet if you will have thekindness to assist me in unarming, your courtesy will place our commerceon more equal footing. "

Osmund had turned very white. "I am no swordsman, messire--"

"Now, this is not handsome of you, " Camoys began. "I warn you thatpeople will speak harshly of us if we lose this opportunity of gaininghonor. And besides, the woman will be burned at the stake. Plainly, youowe it to all three of us to fight. "

"--But I refer my cause to God. I am quite at your service. " "No, myOsmund!" Dame Alianora then cried. "It means your death. "

He spread out his hands. "That is God's affair, madame. "

"Are you not afraid?" she breathed. 

"Of course I am afraid, " said Messire Heleigh, irritably. 

After that he unarmed Camoys, and presently they faced each other intheir tunics. So for the first time in the journey Osmund's longfalchion saw daylight. He had thrown away his dagger, as Camoys hadnone. 

The combat was sufficiently curious. Camoys raised his left hand. "Sohelp me God and His saints, I have upon me neither bone, stone, norwitchcraft wherethrough the power and the word of God might bediminished or the devil's power increased. "

Osmund made similar oath. "Judge Thou this woman's cause!" he cried, likewise. 

Then Gui Camoys shouted, as a herald might have done, "Laissez lesaller, laissez les aller, laissez les aller, les bons combatants!" andwarily each moved toward the other. 

On a sudden Osmund attacked, desperately apprehensive of his owncowardice. Camoys lightly eluded him and slashed at Osmund's undefendedthigh, drawing much blood. Osmund gasped. He flung away his sword, andin the instant catching Camoys under the arms, threw him to the ground. Messire Heleigh fell with his opponent, who in stumbling had lost hissword, and thus the two struggled unarmed, Osmund atop. But Camoys wasthe younger man, and Osmund's strength was ebbing rapidly by reason ofhis wound. Now Camoys' tethered horse, rearing with nervousness, tumbledhis master's flat-topped helmet into the road. Osmund caught up thishelmet and with it battered Camoys in the face, dealing severe blows. 

"God!" Camoys cried, his face all blood. 

"Do you acknowledge my quarrel just?" said Osmund, between horrid sobs. 

"What choice have I?" said Gui Camoys, very sensibly. 

So Osmund rose, blind with tears and shivering. The Queen bound up theirwounds as best she might, but Camoys was much dissatisfied. 

"For private purposes of His own, madame, " he observed, "and doubtlessfor sufficient reasons, God has singularly favored your cause. I amneither a fool nor a pagan to question His decision, and you two may goyour way unhampered. But I have had my head broken with my own helmet, and this I consider to be a proceeding very little conducive towardenhancing my reputation. Of your courtesy, messire, I must entreatanother meeting. "

Osmund shrank as if from a blow. Then, with a short laugh, he concededthat this was Camoys' right, and they fixed upon the following Saturday, with Poges Copse as the rendezvous. 

"I would suggest that the combat be to the death, " Gui Camoys said, "inconsideration of the fact it was my own helmet. You must undoubtedly beaware, Messire Osmund, that such an affront is practically without anyparallel. "

This, too, was agreed upon. 

Then, after asking if they needed money, which was courteously declined, Gui Camoys rode away, and sang as he went. Osmund Heleigh remainedmotionless. He raised quivering hands to the sky. 

"Thou hast judged!" he cried. "Thou hast judged, O puissant Emperor ofHeaven! Now pardon! Pardon us twain! Pardon for unjust stewards of Thygifts! Thou hast loaned this woman dominion over England, with allinstruments to aid Thy cause, and this trust she has abused. Thou hastloaned me life and manhood, agility and wit and strength, allinstruments to aid Thy cause. Talents in a napkin, O God! Repentant wecry to Thee. Pardon for unjust stewards! Pardon for the ungirt loin, forthe service shirked, for all good deeds undone! Pardon and grace, O Kingof kings!"

Thus he prayed, while Gui Camoys sang, riding deeper into the tattered, yellowing forest. By an odd chance Camoys had lighted on that song madeby Thibaut of Champagne, beginning _Signor, saciez, ki or ne s'en ira_, which denounces all half-hearted servitors of Heaven; and this he sangwith a lilt gayer than his matter countenanced. Faintly there now cameto Osmund and the Queen the sound of Camoys' singing, and they found it, in the circumstances, ominously apt. 

Sang Camoys:

 "Et vos, par qui je n'ci onques aïe, Descendez luit en infer le parfont. "

Dame Alianora shivered. But she was a capable woman, and so she said: "Imay have made mistakes. But I am sure I never meant any harm, and I amsure, too, that God will be more sensible about it than are you poets. "

They slept that night in Ousley Meadow, and the next afternoon camesafely to Bristol. You may learn elsewhere with what rejoicing the royalarmy welcomed the Queen's arrival, how courage quickened at sight of thegenerous virago. In the ebullition Messire Heleigh was submerged, andDame Alianora saw nothing more of him that day. Friday there werecounsels, requisitions, orders signed, a memorial despatched to PopeUrban, chief of all a letter (this in the Queen's hand throughout)privily conveyed to the Lady Maude de Mortemer, who shortly afterwardcontrived Prince Edward's escape from her husband's gaolership. Therewas much sowing of a seed, in fine, that eventually flowered victory. There was, however, no sign of Osmund Heleigh, though by Dame Alianora'sorder he was sought. 

On Saturday at seven in the morning he came to her lodging, in completearmor. From the open helmet his wrinkled face, showing like a wizenednut in a shell, smiled upon her questionings. 

"I go to fight Gui Camoys, madame and Queen. "

Dame Alianora wrung her hands. "You go to your death. "

He answered: "That is true. Therefore I am come to bid you farewell. "

The Queen stared at him for a while; on a sudden she broke into acurious fit of deep but tearless sobbing, which bordered upon laughter, too. 

"Mon bel esper, " said Osmund Heleigh, gently, "what is there in all thisworthy of your sorrow? The man will kill me; granted, for he is myjunior by some fifteen years, and is in addition a skilled swordsman. Ifail to see that this is lamentable. Back to Longaville I cannot goafter recent happenings; there a rope's end awaits me. Here I must inany event shortly take to the sword, since a beleaguered army has verylittle need of ink-pots; and shortly I must be slain in some skirmish, dug under the ribs perhaps by a greasy fellow I have never seen. Iprefer a clean death at a gentleman's hands. "

"It is I who bring about your death!" she said. "You gave me gallantservice, and I have requited you with death, and it is a great pity. "

"Indeed the debt is on the other side. The trivial services I renderedyou were such as any gentleman must render a woman in distress. Naughtelse have I afforded you, madame, save very anciently a Sestina. Ho, aSestina! And in return you have given me a Sestina of fairer make, --aSestina of days, six days of manly common living. " His eyes werefervent. 

She kissed him on either cheek. "Farewell, my champion!"

"Ay, your champion. In the twilight of life old Osmund Heleigh ridesforth to defend the quarrel of Alianora of Provence. Reign wisely, myQueen, so that hereafter men may not say I was slain in an evil cause. Do not, I pray you, shame my maiden venture at a man's work. "

"I will not shame you, " the Queen proudly said; and then, with a changeof voice: "O my Osmund! My Osmund, you have a folly that is divine, andI lack it. "

He caught her by each wrist, and stood crushing both her hands to hislips, with fierce staring. "Wife of my King! wife of my King!" hebabbled; and then put her from him, crying, "I have not failed you!Praise God, I have not failed you!"

From her window she saw him ride away, a rich flush of glitter andcolor. In new armor with a smart emblazoned surcoat the lean pedant satconspicuously erect; and as he went he sang defiantly, taunting theweakness of his flesh. 

Sang Osmund Heleigh:

 "Love sows, but lovers reap; and ye will see The loved eyes lighten, feel the loved lips cling Never again when in the grave ye be Incurious of your happiness in spring, And get no grace of Love, there, whither he That bartered life for love no love may bring. "

So he rode away and thus out of our history. But in the evening GuiCamoys came into Bristol under a flag of truce, and behind him heaved alitter wherein lay Osmund Heleigh's body. 

"For this man was frank and courteous, " Camoys said to the Queen, "andin the matter of the reparation he owed me acted very handsomely. It isfitting that he should have honorable interment. "

"That he shall not lack, " the Queen said, and gently unclasped fromOsmund's wrinkled neck the thin gold chain, now locketless. "There was aportrait here, " she said; "the portrait of a woman whom he loved in hisyouth, Messire Camoys. And all his life it lay above his heart. "

Camoys answered stiffly: "I imagine this same locket to have been theobject which Messire Heleigh flung into the river, shortly before webegan our combat. I do not rob the dead, madame. "

"Well, " the Queen said, "he always did queer things, and so, I shallalways wonder what sort of lady he picked out to love, but it is none ofmy affair. "

Afterward she set to work on requisitions in the King's name. But OsmundHeleigh she had interred at Ambresbury, commanding it to be written onhis tomb that he died in the Queen's cause. 

How the same cause prospered (Nicolas concludes), how presently DameAlianora reigned again in England and with what wisdom, and how in theend this great Queen died a nun at Ambresbury and all England wepttherefor--this you may learn elsewhere. I have chosen to record six daysof a long and eventful life; and (as Messire Heleigh might have done) Isay modestly with him of old, _Majores majora sonent. _ Nevertheless, Iassert that many a forest was once a pocketful of acorns. 

THE END OF THE FIRST NOVEL

II

THE STORY OF THE TENSON

 "Plagues à Dieu ja la nueitz non falhis, Ni'l mieus amicx lone de mi nos partis, Ni la gayta jorn ni alba ne vis. Oy Dieus! oy Dieus! de l'alba tan tost we!"

THE SECOND NOVEL. --ELLINOR OF CASTILE, BEING ENAMORED OF A HANDSOMEPERSON, IS IN HER FLIGHT FROM MARITAL OBLIGATIONS ASSISTED BY HERHUSBAND, AND IS IN THE END BY HIM CONVINCED OF THE RATIONALITY OF ALLATTENDANT CIRCUMSTANCES. 

_The Story of the Tenson_

In the year of grace 1265 (Nicolas begins), about the festival of SaintPeter _ad Vincula_, the Prince de Gâtinais came to Burgos. Before thishe had lodged for three months in the district of Ponthieu; and theobject of his southern journey was to assure the tenth Alphonso, thenruling in Castile, that the latter's sister Ellinor, now resident atEntréchat, was beyond any reasonable doubt the transcendent lady whoseexistence old romancers had anticipated, however cloudily, when theyfabled in remote time concerning Queen Heleine of Sparta. 

There was a postscript to this news. The world knew that the King ofLeon and Castile desired to be King of Germany as well, and that atpresent a single vote in the Diet would decide between his claims andthose of his competitor, Earl Richard of Cornwall. De Gâtinais chafferedfairly; he had a vote, Alphonso had a sister. So that, in effect--ohé, in effect, he made no question that his Majesty understood!

The Astronomer twitched his beard and demanded if the fact that Ellinorhad been a married woman these ten years past was not an obstacle to theplan which his fair cousin had proposed?

Here the Prince was accoutred cap-à-pie, and hauled out a paper. Datingfrom Viterbo, Clement, Bishop of Rome, servant to the servants of God, desirous of all health and apostolical blessing for his well-beloved sonin Christ, stated that a compact between a boy of fifteen and a girl often was an affair of no particular moment; and that in consideration ofthe covenantors never having clapped eyes upon each other since thewedding-day, --even had not the precontract of marriage between thegroom's father and the bride's mother rendered a consummation of thechildish oath an obvious and a most heinous enormity, --why, that, in asentence, and for all his coy verbosity, the new pontiff was perfectlyamenable to reason. 

So in a month it was settled. Alphonso would give his sister to deGâtinais, and in exchange get the latter's vote to make Alphonso King ofGermany; and Gui Foulques of Sabionetta--now Clement, fourth Pope toassume that name--would annul the previous marriage, and in exchange getan armament to serve him against Manfred, the late and troublesometyrant of Sicily and Apulia. The scheme promised to each one of themthat which he in particular desired, and messengers were presently sentinto Ponthieu. 

It is now time we put aside these Castilian matters and speak of otherthings. In England, Prince Edward had fought, and won, a shrewd battleat Evesham. People said, of course, that such behavior was less in themanner of his nominal father, King Henry, than reminiscent of CountManuel of Poictesme, whose portraits certainly the Prince resembled toan embarrassing extent. Either way, the barons' power was demolished, there would be no more internecine war; and spurred by the unaccustomedidleness, Prince Edward began to think of the foreign girl he had notseen since the day he wedded her. She would be a woman by this, and itwas befitting that he claim his wife. He rode with Hawise Bulmer and herbaby to Ambresbury, and at the gate of the nunnery they parted, withwhat agonies are immaterial to this history's progression; the talemerely tells that, having thus decorously rid himself of his mistress, the Prince went into Lower Picardy alone, riding at adventure as heloved to do, and thus came to Entréchat, where his wife resided with hermother, the Countess Johane. 

In a wood near the castle he approached a company of Spaniards, four innumber, their horses tethered while these men (Oviedans, as they toldhim) drank about a great stone which served them for a table. Beingthirsty, he asked and was readily accorded hospitality, and these fivefell into amicable discourse. One fellow asked his name and business inthose parts, and the Prince gave each without hesitancy as he reachedfor the bottle, and afterward dropped it just in time to catch, cannily, with his naked left hand, the knife-blade with which the rascal had dugat the unguarded ribs. The Prince was astounded, but he was never asubtle man: here were four knaves who, for reasons unexplained--but tothem of undoubted cogency--desired his death: manifestly there was herean actionable difference of opinion; so he had his sword out and killedthe four of them. 

Presently came to him an apple-cheeked boy, habited as a page, who, riding jauntily through the forest, lighted upon the Prince, now inbottomless vexation. The lad drew rein, and his lips outlined a whistle. At his feet were several dead men in various conditions ofdismemberment. And seated among them, as if throned upon this boulder, was a gigantic and florid person, so tall that the heads of few menreached to his shoulder; a person of handsome exterior, high-featuredand blond, having a narrow, small head, and vivid light blue eyes, andthe chest of a stallion; a person whose left eyebrow had an odd obliquedroop, so that the stupendous man appeared to be winking the informationthat he was in jest. 

"Fair friend, " said the page. "God give you joy! and why have youconverted this forest into a shambles?"

The Prince told him as much of the half-hour's action as has beennarrated. "I have perhaps been rather hasty, " he considered, by way ofperoration, "and it vexes me that I did not spare, say, one of theselank Spaniards, if only long enough to ascertain why, in the name ofTermagaunt, they should have desired my destruction. "

But midway in his tale the boy had dismounted with a gasp, and he wasnow inspecting the features of one carcass. "Felons, my Prince! You haveslain some eight yards of felony which might have cheated the gallowshad they got the Princess Ellinor safe to Burgos. Only two days ago thischalk-eyed fellow conveyed to her a letter. "

Prince Edward said, "You appear, lad, to be somewhat overheels in theconfidence of my wife. "

Now the boy arose and defiantly flung back his head in shrill laughter. "Your wife! Oh, God have mercy! Your wife, and for ten years left to herown devices! Why, look you, to-day you and your wife would not know eachother were you two brought face to face. "

Prince Edward said, "That is very near the truth. " But, indeed, it wasthe absolute truth, and as it concerned him was already attested. 

"Sire Edward, " the boy then said, "your wife has wearied of this longwaiting till you chose to whistle for her. Last summer the young Princede Gâtinais came a-wooing--and he is a handsome man. " The page madeknown all which de Gâtinais and King Alphonso planned, the wordsjostling as they came in torrents, but so that one might understand. "Iam her page, my lord. I was to follow her. These fellows were to be myescort, were to ward off possible pursuit. Cry haro, beau sire! Cryharo, and shout it lustily, for your wife in company with six otherknaves is at large between here and Burgos, --that unreasonable wife whogrew dissatisfied after a mere ten years of neglect. "

"I have been remiss, " the Prince said, and one huge hand strained at hischin; "yes, perhaps I have been remiss. Yet it had appeared to me--Butas it is, I bid you mount, my lad!"

The boy demanded, "And to what end?"

"Oy Dieus, messire! have I not slain your escort? Why, in common reason, equity demands that I afford you my protection so far as Burgos, messire, just as plainly as equity demands I slay de Gâtinais and fetchback my wife to England. "

The page wrung exquisite hands with a gesture which was but partiallytinged with anguish, and presently began to laugh. Afterward these tworode southerly, in the direction of Castile. 

For it appeared to the intriguing little woman a diverting jest that inthis fashion her husband should be the promoter of her evasion. Itappeared to her more diverting when in two days' space she had becomefond of him. She found him rather slow of comprehension, and she washumiliated by the discovery that not an eyelash of the man was irritatedby his wife's decampment; he considered, to all appearances, that someproperty of his had been stolen, and he intended, quite without passion, to repossess himself of it, after, of course, punishing the thief. 

This troubled the Princess somewhat; and often, riding by her stolidhusband's side, the girl's heart raged at memory of the decade so newlyoverpast which had kept her always dependent on the charity of this orthat ungracious patron--on any one who would take charge of her whilethe truant husband fought out his endless squabbles in England. Slightsenough she had borne during the period, and squalor, and physical hungeralso she had known, who was the child of a king and a saint. [2] But nowshe rode toward the dear southland; and presently she would be rid ofthis big man, when he had served her purpose; and afterward she meant towheedle Alphonso, just as she had always wheedled him, and later still, she and Etienne would be very happy: in fine, to-morrow was to be a newday. 

So these two rode southward, and always Prince Edward found this newpage of his--this Miguel de Rueda, --a jolly lad, who whistled and sanginapposite snatches of balladry, without any formal ending or beginning, descanting always with the delicate irrelevancy of a bird-trill. 

Sang Miguel de Rueda:

 "Man's Love, that leads me day by day Through many a screened and scented way, Finds to assuage my thirst. 

 "No love that may the old love slay, None sweeter than the first. 

 "Fond heart of mine, that beats so fast As this or that fair maid trips past, Once, and with lesser stir We viewed the grace of love, at last, And turned idolater. 

 "Lad's Love it was, that in the spring When all things woke to blossoming Was as a child that came Laughing, and filled with wondering, Nor knowing his own name--"

"And still I would prefer to think, " the big man interrupted, heavily, "that Sicily is not the only allure. I would prefer to think my wife sobeautiful. --And yet, as I remember her, she was nothing extraordinary. "

The page a little tartly said that people might forget a deal within adecade. 

The Prince continued his unriddling of the scheme hatched in Castile. "When Manfred is driven out of Sicily they will give the throne to deGâtinais. He intends to get both a kingdom and a handsome wife by thisneat affair. And in reason, England must support my Uncle Richard'sclaim to the German crown, against El Sabio--Why, my lad, I ridesouthward to prevent a war that would devastate half Europe. "

"You ride southward in the attempt to rob a miserable woman of her solechance of happiness, " Miguel de Rueda estimated. 

"That is undeniable, if she loves this thrifty Prince, as indeed I donot question my wife does. Yet our happiness here is a trivial matter, whereas war is a great disaster. You have not seen--as I, my littleMiguel, have often seen--a man viewing his death-wound with a face ofstupid wonder, a bewildered wretch in point to die in his lord's quarreland understanding never a word of it. Or a woman, say--a woman's twistedand naked body, the breasts yet horribly heaving, in the red ashes ofsome village, or the already dripping hoofs which will presently crushthis body. Well, it is to prevent many such ugly spectacles hereaboutthat I ride southward. "

Miguel de Rueda shuddered. But, "She has her right to happiness, " thepage stubbornly said. 

"She has only one right, " the Prince retorted; "because it has pleasedthe Emperor of Heaven to appoint us twain to lofty stations, to entrustto us the five talents of the parable; whence is our debt to Him, beingfivefold, so much the greater than that of common persons. Thereforethe more is it our sole right, being fivefold, to serve God withoutfaltering, and therefore is our happiness, or our unhappiness, the morean inconsiderable matter. For, as I have read in the Annals of theRomans--" He launched upon the story of King Pompey and his daughter, whom a certain duke regarded with impure and improper emotions. "Mylittle Miguel, that ancient king is our Heavenly Father, that onlydaughter is the rational soul of us, which is here delivered forprotection to five soldiers--that is, to the five senses, --to preserveit from the devil, the world, and the flesh. But, alas! thetoo-credulous soul, desirous of gazing upon the gaudy vapors of thisworld--"

"You whine like a canting friar, " the page complained; "and I can assureyou that the Lady Ellinor was prompted rather than hindered by herGod-given faculties of sight and hearing and so on when she fell in lovewith de Gâtinais. Of you two, he is, beyond any question, the handsomerand the more intelligent man, and it was God who bestowed on hersufficient wit to perceive the superiority of de Gâtinais. And what am Ito deduce from this?"

The Prince reflected. At last he said: "I have also read in these sameGestes how Seneca mentions that in poisoned bodies, on account of themalignancy and the coldness of the poison, no worm will engender; but ifthe body be smitten by lightning, in a few days the carcass will aboundwith vermin. My little Miguel, both men and women are at birthempoisoned by sin, and then they produce no worm--that is, no virtue. But once they are struck with lightning--that is, by the grace ofGod, --they are astonishingly fruitful in good works. "

The page began to laugh. "You are hopelessly absurd, my Prince, thoughyou will never know it, --and I hate you a little, --and I envy you agreat deal. "

"Ah, but, " Prince Edward said, in misapprehension, for the man was neverquick-witted, --"but it is not for my own happiness that I ridesouthward. "

The page then said, "What is her name?"

Prince Edward answered, very fondly, "Hawise. "

"I hate her, too, " said Miguel de Rueda; "and I think that the holyangels alone know how profoundly I envy her. "

In the afternoon of the same day they neared Ruffec, and at the fordfound three brigands ready, two of whom the Prince slew, and the otherfled. 

Next night they supped at Manneville, and sat afterward in the littlesquare, tree-chequered, that lay before their inn. Miguel had procured alute from the innkeeper, and he strummed idly as these two debatedtogether of great matters; about them was an immeasurable twilight, moonless, but tempered by many stars, and everywhere they could hear anagreeable whispering of leaves. 

"Listen, my Prince, " the boy said: "here is one view of the affair. "And he began to chant, without rhyming, without raising his voice abovethe pitch of talk, while the lute monotonously accompanied his chanting. 

Sang Miguel:

 "Passeth a little while, and Irus the beggar and Menephtah the high king are at sorry unison, and Guenevere is a skull. Multitudinously we tread toward oblivion, as ants hasten toward sugar, and presently Time cometh with his broom. Multitudinously we tread a dusty road toward oblivion; but yonder the sun shines upon a grass-plot, converting it into an emerald; and I am aweary of the trodden path. 

 "Vine-crowned is the fair peril that guards the grasses yonder, and her breasts are naked. 'Vanity of Vanities!' saith the beloved. But she whom I love seems very far away to-night, though I might be with her if I would. And she may not aid me now, for not even love is all-powerful. She is most dear of created women, and very wise, but she may never understand that at any time one grows aweary of the trodden path. 

 "At sight of my beloved, love closes over my heart like a flood. For the sake of my beloved I have striven, with a good endeavor, to my tiny uttermost. Pardie, I am not Priam at the head of his army! A little while and I will repent; to-night I cannot but remember that there are women whose lips are of a livelier tint, that life is short at best, that wine evokes in me some admiration for myself, and that I am aweary of the trodden path. 

 "She is very far from me to-night. Yonder in the Hörselberg they exult and make sweet songs, songs which are sweeter, immeasurably sweeter, than this song of mine, but in the trodden path I falter, for I am tired, tired in every fibre of me, and I am aweary of the trodden path"

Followed a silence. "Ignorance spoke there, " the Prince said. "It is thesong of a woman, or else of a boy who is very young. Give me the lute, my little Miguel. " And presently the Prince, too, sang. 

Sang the Prince:

 "I was in a path, and I trod toward the citadel of the land's Seigneur, and on either side were pleasant and forbidden meadows, having various names. And one trod with me who babbled of the brooding mountains and of the low-lying and adjacent clouds; of the west wind and of the budding fruit-trees. He debated the significance of these things, and he went astray to gather violets, while I walked in the trodden path. "

 "He babbled of genial wine and of the alert lips of women, of swinging censers and of the serene countenances of priests, and of the clear, lovely colors of bread and butter, and his heart was troubled by a world profuse in beauty. And he leaped a stile to share his allotted provision with a dying dog, and afterward, being hungry, a wall to pilfer apples, while I walked in the trodden path. 

 "He babbled of Autumn's bankruptcy and of the age-long lying promises of Spring; and of his own desire to be at rest; and of running waters and of decaying leaves. He babbled of the far-off stars; and he debated whether they were the eyes of God or gases which burned, and he demonstrated, with logic, that neither existed. At times he stumbled as he stared about him and munched his apples, so that he was all bemired, but I walked in the trodden path. 

 "And the path led to the gateway of a citadel, and through the gateway. 'Let us not enter, ' he said, 'for the citadel is vacant, and, moreover, I am in profound terror, and, besides, I have not as yet eaten all my apples. ' And he wept aloud, but I was not afraid, for I had walked in the trodden path. "

Again there was a silence. "You paint a dreary world, my Prince. "

"My little Miguel, I paint the world as the Eternal Father made it. Thelaws of the place are written large, so that all may read them; and weknow that every road, whether it be my trodden path or some byway throughyour gayer meadows, yet leads in the end to God. We have our choice, --orto come to Him as a laborer comes at evening for the day's wages fairlyearned, or to come as a roisterer haled before the magistrate. "

"I consider you to be in the right, " the boy said, after a lengthyinterval, "although I decline--and decline emphatically--to believe you. "

The Prince laughed. "There spoke Youth, " he said, and he sighed asthough he were a patriarch. "But we have sung, we two, the EternalTenson of God's will and of man's desires. And I claim the prize, myLittle Miguel. "

Suddenly the page kissed one huge hand. "You have conquered, my verydull and very glorious Prince. Concerning that Hawise--" But Miguel deRueda choked. "Oh, I do not understand! and yet in part I understand!"the boy wailed in the darkness. 

And the Prince laid one hand upon his page's hair, and smiled in thedarkness to note how soft was this hair, since the man was less a foolthan at first view you might have taken him to be; and he said:

"One must play the game out fairly, my lad. We are no little people, she and I, the children of many kings, of God's regents here on earth;and it was never reasonable, my Miguel, that gentlefolk should cheat attheir dicing. "

The same night Miguel de Rueda repeated the prayer which Saint Theophilusmade long ago to the Mother of God:

 "Dame, je n'ose, Flors d'aiglentier et lis et rose, En qui li filz Diex se repose, "

and so on. Or, in other wording: "Hearken, O gracious Lady! thou thatart more fair than any flower of the eglantine, more comely than theblossoming of the rose or of the lily! thou to whom was confided thevery Son of God! Harken, for I am afraid! afford counsel to me that amensnared by Satan and know not what to do! Never will I make an end ofpraying. O Virgin débonnaire! O honored Lady! Thou that wast once awoman--!"

So he prayed, and upon the next day as these two rode southward, he sanghalf as if in defiance. 

Sang Miguel:

 "And still, --whatever years impend To witness Time a fickle friend, And Youth a dwindling fire, -- I must adore till all years end My first love, Heart's Desire. 

 "I may not hear men speak of her Unmoved, and vagrant pulses stir To greet her passing-by, And I, in all her worshipper Must serve her till I die. 

 "For I remember: this is she That reigns in one man's memory Immune to age and fret, And stays the maid I may not see Nor win to, nor forget. "

It was on the following day, near Bazas, that these two encountered Adamde Gourdon, a Provençal knight, with whom the Prince fought for a longwhile, without either contestant giving way; in consequence a rendezvouswas fixed for the November of that year, and afterward the Prince and deGourdon parted, highly pleased with each other. 

Thus the Prince and his attendant came, in late September, to Mauléon, on the Castilian frontier, and dined there at the _Fir Cone. _ Three orfour lackeys were about--some exalted person's retinue? Prince Edwardhazarded to the swart little landlord, as the Prince and Miguel lingeredover the remnants of their meal. 

Yes, the fellow informed them: the Prince de Gâtinais had lodged therefor a whole week, watching the north road, as circumspect of all passageas a cat over a mouse-hole. Eh, monseigneur expected some one, doubtless--a lady, it might be, --the gentlefolk had their escapades likeevery one else. The innkeeper babbled vaguely, for on a sudden he wasvery much afraid of his gigantic patron. 

"You will show me to his room, " Prince Edward said, with a politenessthat was ingratiating. 

The host shuddered and obeyed. 

Miguel de Rueda, left alone, sat quite silent, his finger-tips drummingupon the table. He rose suddenly and flung back his shoulders, allresolution. On the stairway he passed the black little landlord, who wasnow in a sad twitter, foreseeing bloodshed. But Miguel de Rueda went onto the room above. The door was ajar. He paused there. 

De Gâtinais had risen from his dinner and stood facing the door. He, too, was a blond man and the comeliest of his day. And at sight of himawoke in the woman's heart all the old tenderness; handsome and braveand witty she knew him to be, as indeed the whole world knew him to bedistinguished by every namable grace; and the innate weakness of deGâtinais, which she alone suspected, made him now seem doubly dear. Fiercely she wanted to shield him, less from bodily hurt than from thatself-degradation which she cloudily apprehended to be at hand; the testwas come, and Etienne would fail. Thus much she knew with a sick, illimitable surety, and she loved de Gâtinais with a passion whichdwarfed comprehension. 

"O Madame the Virgin!" prayed Miguel de Rueda, "thou that wast once awoman, even as I am now a woman! grant that the man may slay himquickly! grant that he may slay Etienne very quickly, honored Lady, sothat my Etienne may die unshamed!"

"I must question, messire, " de Gâtinais was saying, "whether you havebeen well inspired. Yes, quite frankly, I do await the arrival of herwho is your nominal wife; and your intervention at this late stage, Itake it, can have no outcome save to render you absurd. So, come now!be advised by me, messire--"

Prince Edward said, "I am not here to talk. "

"--For, messire, I grant you that in ordinary disputation the cutting ofone gentleman's throat by another gentleman is well enough, since theargument is unanswerable. Yet in this case we have each of us too muchto live for; you to govern your reconquered England, and I--you perceivethat I am candid--to achieve in turn the kingship of another realm. Nowto secure this realm, possession of the Lady Ellinor is to me essential;to you she is nothing. "

"She is a woman whom I have deeply wronged, " Prince Edward said, "and towhom, God willing, I mean to make atonement. Ten years ago they weddedus, willy-nilly, to avert the impending war between Spain and England;to-day El Sabio intends to purchase Germany with her body as the price;you to get Sicily as her husband. Mort de Dieu! is a woman thus to bebought and sold like hog's flesh! We have other and cleaner customs, weof England. "

"Eh, and who purchased the woman first?" de Gâtinais spat at him, viciously, for the Frenchman now saw his air-castle shaken to thecorner-stone. 

"They wedded me to the child in order that a great war might be averted. I acquiesced, since it appeared preferable that two people sufferinconvenience rather than many thousands be slain. And still this is myview of the matter. Yet afterward I failed her. Love had no clause inour agreement; but I owed her more protection than I have afforded. England has long been no place for women. I thought she would comprehendthat much. But I know very little of women. Battle and death are morewholesome companions, I now perceive, than such folk as you andAlphonso. Woman is the weaker vessel--the negligence was mine--I may notblame her. " The big and simple man was in an agony of repentance. 

On a sudden he strode forward, his sword now shifted to his left handand his right hand outstretched. "One and all, we are weaklings in thenet of circumstance. Shall one herring, then, blame his fellow if hisfellow jostle him? We walk as in a mist of error, and Belial is fertilein allurements; yet always it is granted us to behold that sin is sin. Ihave perhaps sinned through anger, Messire de Gâtinais, more deeply thanyou have planned to sin through luxury and through ambition. Let us thencry quits, Messire de Gâtinais, and afterward part in peace, and incommon repentance. "

"And yield you Ellinor?" de Gâtinais said. "Oh no, messire, I reply toyou with Arnaud de Marveil, that marvellous singer of eld, 'They maybear her from my presence, but they can never untie the knot whichunites my heart to her; for that heart, so tender and so constant, Godalone divides with my lady, and the portion which God possesses He holdsbut as a part of her domain, and as her vassal. '" "This is blasphemy, "Prince Edward now retorted, "and for such observations alone you meritdeath. Will you always talk and talk and talk? I perceive that the devilis far more subtle than you, messire, and leads you, like a pig with aring in his nose, toward gross iniquity. Messire, I tell you that foryour soul's health I doubly mean to kill you now. So let us make an endof this. "

De Gâtinais turned and took up his sword. "Since you will have it, " herather regretfully said; "yet I reiterate that you play an absurd part. Your wife has deserted you, has fled in abhorrence of you. For threeweeks she has been tramping God knows whither or in what company--"

He was here interrupted. "What the Lady Ellinor has done, " Prince Edwardcrisply said, "was at my request. We were wedded at Burgos; it wasnatural that we should desire our reunion to take place at Burgos; andshe came to Burgos with an escort which I provided. "

De Gâtinais sneered. "So that is the tale you will deliver to theworld?"

"After I have slain you, " the Prince said, "yes. "

"The reservation is wise. For if I were dead, Messire Edward, therewould be none to know that you risk all for a drained goblet, for anorange already squeezed--quite dry, messire. "

"Face of God!" the Prince said. 

But de Gâtinais flung back both arms in a great gesture, so that heknocked a flask of claret from the table at his rear. "I am candid, myPrince. I would not see any brave gentleman slain in a cause so foolish. In consequence I kiss and tell. In effect, I was eloquent, I wasmagnificent, so that in the end her reserve was shattered like thewooden flask yonder at our feet. Is it worth while, think you, that ourblood flow like this flagon's contents?"

"Liar!" Prince Edward said, very softly. "O hideous liar! Already youreyes shift!" He drew near and struck the Frenchman. "Talk and talk andtalk! and lying talk! I am ashamed while I share the world with a thingas base as you. "

De Gâtinais hurled upon him, cursing, sobbing in an abandoned fury. Inan instant the place resounded like a smithy, for there were no betterswordsmen living than these two. The eavesdropper could see nothingclearly. Round and round they veered in a whirl of turmoil. PresentlyPrince Edward trod upon the broken flask, smashing it. His foot slippedin the spilth of wine, and the huge body went down like an oak, his headstriking one leg of the table. 

"A candle!" de Gâtinais cried, and he panted now--"a hundred candles tothe Virgin of Beaujolais!" He shortened his sword to stab the Prince ofEngland. 

The eavesdropper came through the doorway, and flung herself betweenPrince Edward and the descending sword. The sword dug deep into hershoulder, so that she shrieked once with the cold pain of this wound. Then she rose, ashen. "Liar!" she said. "Oh, I am shamed while I sharethe world with a thing as base as you!"

In silence de Gâtinais regarded her. There was a long interval before hesaid, "Ellinor!" and then again, "Ellinor!" like a man bewildered. 

"_I was eloquent, I was magnificent_" she said, "_so that in the end herreserve was shattered!_ Certainly, messire, it is not your death which Idesire, since a man dies so very, very quickly. I desire for you--I knownot what I desire for you!" the girl wailed. 

"You desire that I should endure this present moment, " de Gâtinaisreplied; "for as God reigns, I love you, of whom I have spoken infamy, and my shame is very bitter. "

She said: "And I, too, loved you. It is strange to think of that. "

"I was afraid. Never in my life have I been afraid before to-day. But Iwas afraid of this terrible and fair and righteous man. I saw all hopeof you vanish, all hope of Sicily--in effect, I lied as a cornered beastspits out his venom. "

"I know, " she answered. "Give me water, Etienne. " She washed and boundthe Prince's head with a vinegar-soaked napkin. Ellinor sat upon thefloor, the big man's head upon her knee. "He will not die of this, forhe is of strong person. Look you, Messire de Gâtinais, you and I are notstrong. We are so fashioned that we can enjoy only the pleasant thingsof life. But this man can enjoy--enjoy, mark you--the commission of anyact, however distasteful, if he think it to be his duty. There is thedifference. I cannot fathom him. But it is now necessary that I becomeall which he loves--since he loves it, --and that I be in thought anddeed all which he desires. For I have heard the Tenson through. "

"You love him!" said de Gâtinais. 

She glanced upward with a pitiable smile. "No, it is you whom I love, myEtienne. You cannot understand how at this very moment every fibre ofme--heart, soul, and body--may be longing just to comfort you, and togive you all which you desire, my Etienne, and to make you happy, myhandsome Etienne, at however dear a cost. No; you will never understandthat. And since you may not understand, I merely bid you go and leave mewith my husband. "

And then there fell between these two an infinite silence. 

"Listen, " de Gâtinais said; "grant me some little credit for what I do. You are alone; the man is powerless. My fellows are within call. A wordsecures the Prince's death; a word gets me you and Sicily. And I do notspeak that word, for you are my lady as well as his, and your will is myone law. "

But there was no mercy in the girl, no more for him than for herself. The big head lay upon her breast; she caressed the gross hair of it everso lightly. "These are tinsel oaths, " she crooned, as if rapt withincurious content; "these are the old empty protestations of all youstrutting poets. A word gets you what you desire! Then why do you notspeak that word? Why do you not speak many words, and become again aseloquent and as magnificent as you were when you contrived that adulteryabout which you were just now telling my husband?"

De Gâtinais raised clenched hands. "I am shamed, " he said; and then hesaid, "It is just. "

He left the room and presently rode away with his men. I say that, hereat last, he had done a knightly deed, but she thought little of it, never raised her head as the troop clattered from Mauléon, with alessening beat which lapsed now into the blunders of an aging fly whododdered about the window yonder. 

She stayed thus, motionless, her meditations adrift in the future; andthat which she foreread left her not all sorry nor profoundly glad, forliving seemed by this, though scarcely the merry and colorful businesswhich she had esteemed it, yet immeasurably the more worth while. 

THE END OF THE SECOND NOVEL

III

THE STORY OF THE RAT-TRAP

 "Leixant a part le stil dels trobados, Dos grans dezigs ban combatut ma pensa, Mas lo voler vers un seguir dispensa: Yo l'vos publich, amar dretament vos. "

THE THIRD NOVEL. --MEREGRETT OF FRANCE, THINKING TO PRESERVE A HOODWINKEDGENTLEMAN, ANNOYS A SPIDER; AND BY THE GRACE OF DESTINY THE WEB OF THATCUNNING INSECT ENTRAPS A BUTTERFLY, A WASP, AND THEN A GOD; WHO SHATTERSIT. 

_The Story of the Rat-Trap_

In the year of grace 1298, a little before Candlemas (thus Nicolasbegins), came letters to the first King Edward of England from hiskinsman and ambassador to France, Earl Edmund of Lancaster. It wasperfectly apparent, the Earl wrote, that the French King meant tosurrender to the Earl's lord and brother neither the duchy of Guiennenor the Lady Blanch. This lady, I must tell you, was now affianced toKing Edward, whose first wife, Dame Ellinor, had died eight years beforethis time. 

The courier found Sire Edward at Ipswich, midway in celebration of hisdaughter's marriage to the Count of Holland. The King read the lettersthrough and began to laugh; and presently broke into a rage such as waspossible (men whispered) only to the demon-tainted blood of Oriander'sdescendants. Next day the keeper of the privy purse entered upon thehouse-hold-books a considerable sum "to make good a large ruby and anemerald lost out of his coronet when the King's Grace was pleased tothrow it into the fire"; and upon the same day the King recalledLancaster. The King then despatched yet another embassy into France totreat about Sire Edward's marriage. This last embassy was headed by theEarl of Aquitaine: his lieutenant was Lord Pevensey, the King's naturalson by Hawise Bulmer. 

The Earl got audience of the French King at Mezelais. Walking alone camethis Earl of Aquitaine, with a large retinue, into the hall where thebarons of France stood according to their rank; in unadorned russet werethe big Earl and his attendants, but upon the scarlets and purples ofthe French lords many jewels shone: it was as though through a corridorof gayly painted sunlit glass that the grave Earl came to the dais wheresat King Philippe. 

The King had risen at close sight of the new envoy, and had gulped onceor twice, and without speaking, had hurriedly waved his lords out ofear-shot. The King's perturbation was very extraordinary. 

"Fair cousin, " the Earl now said, without any prelude, "four years ago Iwas affianced to your sister, Dame Blanch. You stipulated that Gasconybe given up to you in guaranty, as a settlement on any children I mighthave by that incomparable lady. I assented, and yielded you theprovince, upon the understanding, sworn to according to the faith ofloyal kings, that within forty days you assign to me its seignory asyour vassal. And I have had of you since then neither my province normy betrothed wife, but only excuses, Sire Philippe. "

With eloquence the Frenchman touched upon the emergencies to which thepublic weal so often drives men of high station, and upon his privategrief over the necessity--unavoidable, alas!--of returning a hard answerbefore the council; and became so voluble that Sire Edward merelylaughed in that big-lunged and disconcerting way of his, and afterwardlodged for a week at Mezelais, nominally passing by his minor title ofEarl of Aquitaine, and as his own ambassador. 

Negotiations became more swift of foot, since a man serves himself withzeal. In addition, the French lords could make nothing of a politicianso thick-witted that he replied to every consideration of expediencywith a parrot-like reiteration of the circumstance that already thebargain was signed and sworn to: in consequence, while daily they fumedover his stupidity, daily he gained his point. During this period hewas, upon one pretext or another, very often in the company of hisaffianced wife, Dame Blanch. 

This lady, I must tell you, was the handsomest of her day; there couldnowhere be found a creature more agreeable to every sense; and shecompelled the adoring regard of men, it is recorded, not gently but inan imperious fashion. Sire Edward, who, till this, had loved her merelyby report, and, in accordance with the high custom of old, through manyperusals of her portrait, now appeared besotted. He was an aging man, near sixty, huge and fair, with a crisp beard, and the bright unequaleyes of Manuel of Poictesme. The better-read at Mezelais began to likenthis so candidly enamored monarch and his Princess to Sieur Hercules atthe feet of Queen Omphale. 

The court hunted and slew a stag of ten in the woods of Ermenoueïl, which stand thick about the château; and at the hunt's end, these twohad dined at Rigon the forester's hut, in company with Dame Meregrett, the French King's younger sister. She sat a little apart from thebetrothed, and stared through the hut's one window. We know, nowadays, it was not merely the trees she was considering. 

Dame Blanch seemed undisposed to mirth. "We have slain the stag, beausire, " she said, "and have made of his death a brave diversion. To-daywe have had our sport of death, --and presently the gay years wind pastus, as our cavalcade came toward the stag, and God's incurious angelslays us, much as we slew the stag. And we shall not understand, and weshall wonder, as the stag did, in helpless wonder. And Death will havehis sport of us, as if in atonement. " Her big eyes shone, as when thesun glints upon a sand-bottomed pool. "Ohé, I have known such happinessof late, beau sire, that I am hideously afraid to die. "

The King answered, "I too have been very happy of late. "

"But it is profitless to talk about death thus drearily. Let us flouthim, instead, with some gay song. " And thereupon she handed Sire Edwarda lute. 

The King accepted it. "Death is not reasonably mocked by any person, "Sire Edward said, "since in the end he conquers, and of the lips thatgibed at him remains but a little dust. Rather should I, who alreadystand beneath a lifted sword, make for my destined and inescapableconqueror a Sirvente, which is the Song of Service. "

Sang Sire Edward:[3]

 "I sing of Death, that comes unto the king, And lightly plucks him from the cushioned throne; And drowns his glory and his warfaring In unrecorded dim oblivion; And girds another with the sword thereof; And sets another in his stead to reign; And ousts the remnant, nakedly to gain Styx' formless shore and nakedly complain Midst twittering ghosts lamenting life and love. 

 "For Death is merciless: a crack-brained king He raises in the place of Prester John, Smites Priam, and mid-course in conquering Bids Caesar pause; the wit of Salomon, The wealth of Nero and the pride thereof, And battle-prowess--or of Tamburlaine Darius, Jeshua, or Charlemaigne, -- Wheedle and bribe and surfeit Death in vain, And get no grace of him nor any love. 

 "Incuriously he smites the armored king And tricks his counsellors--"

"True, O God!" murmured the tiny woman, who sat beside the windowyonder. With that, Dame Meregrett rose, and passed from the room. 

The two lovers started, and laughed, and afterward paid little heed toher outgoing. Sire Edward had put aside the lute and sat now regardingthe Princess. His big left hand propped the bearded chin; his gravecountenance was flushed, and his intent eyes shone under their shaggybrows, very steadily, although the left eye was now so nearly shut as toreveal the merest spark. 

Irresolutely, Dame Blanch plucked at her gown; then rearranged a fold ofit, and with composure awaited the ensuing action, afraid at bottom, butnot at all ill-pleased; and she looked downward. 

The King said: "Never before were we two alone, madame. Fate is verygracious to me this morning. "

"Fate, " the lady considered, "has never denied much to the Hammer of theScots. "

"She has denied me nothing, " he sadly said, "save the one thing thatmakes this business of living seem a rational proceeding. Fame and powerand wealth fate has accorded me, no doubt, but never the common joys oflife. And, look you, my Princess, I am of aging person now. During somethirty years I have ruled England according to my interpretation ofGod's will as it was anciently made manifest by the holy Evangelists;and during that period I have ruled England not without odd by-ends ofcommendation: yet behold, to-day I forget the world-applauded, excellentKing Edward, and remember only Edward Plantagenet--hot-blooded anddesirous man!--of whom that much-commended king has made a prisoner allthese years. "

"It is the duty of exalted persons, " Blanch unsteadily said, "to putaside such private inclinations as their breasts may harbor--"

He said, "I have done what I might for the happiness of every Englishmanwithin my realm saving only Edward Plantagenet; and now I think his turnto be at hand. " Then the man kept silence; and his hot appraisal dauntedher. 

"Lord, " she presently faltered, "lord, you know that we are alreadybetrothed, and, in sober verity, Love cannot extend his laws betweenhusband and wife, since the gifts of love are voluntary, and husband andwife are but the slaves of duty--"

"Troubadourish nonsense!" Sire Edward said; "yet it is true that thegifts of love are voluntary. And therefore--Ha, most beautiful, whathave you and I to do with all this chaffering over Guienne?" The twostood very close to each other now. Blanch said, "It is a highmatter--" Then on a sudden the full-veined girl was aglow. "It is atrivial matter. " He took her in his arms, since already her cheeksflared in scarlet anticipation of the event. 

Thus holding her, he wooed the girl tempestuously. Here, indeed, wasSieur Hercules enslaved, burned by a fiercer fire than that of Nessus, and the huge bulk of the unconquerable visibly shaken by his adoration. In a disordered tapestry of verbiage, aflap in winds of passion, shepresently beheld herself prefigured by Balkis, the Judean's lure, and bythat Princess of Cyprus who reigned in Aristotle's time, and byNicolete, the King's daughter of Carthage, --since the first flush ofmorning was as a rush-light before her resplendency, the man swore; andin conclusion, he likened her to a modern Countess of Tripolis, for loveof whom he, like Rudel, had cleft the seas, and losing whom he mustinevitably die as did Rudel. Sire Edward snapped his fingers now overany consideration of Guienne. He would conquer for her all Muscovy andall Cataia, too, if she desired mere acreage. Meanwhile he wanted her, and his hard and savage passion beat down opposition as if with abludgeon. 

"Heart's emperor, " the trembling girl replied, "I think that you werecast in some larger mould than we of France. Oh, none of us may dareresist you! and I know that nothing matters, nothing in all the world, save that you love me. Then take me, since you will it, --and take menot as King, since you will otherwise, but as Edward Plantagenet. Forlisten! by good luck you have this afternoon despatched Rigon forChevrieul, where to-morrow we were to hunt the great boar. So to-nightthis hut will be unoccupied. "

The man was silent. He had a gift that way when occasion served. 

"Here, then, beau sire! here, then, at nine, you are to meet me with mychaplain. Behold, he marries us, as glibly as though we two werepeasants. Poor king and princess!" cried Dame Blanch, and in a voicewhich thrilled him, "shall ye not, then, dare to be but man and woman?"

"Ha!" the King said. "So the chaplain makes a third! Well, the King ispleased to loose his prisoner, that long-imprisoned Edward Plantagenet:and I will do it. "

So he came that night, without any retinue, and habited as a forester, with a horn swung about his neck, into the unlighted hut of Rigon theforester, and he found a woman there, though not the woman whom he hadexpected. 

"Treachery, beau sire! Horrible treachery!" she wailed. 

"I have encountered it before this, " the big man said. 

"Presently will come to you not Blanch but Philippe, with many men toback him. And presently they will slay you. You have been trapped, beausire. Ah, for the love of God, go! Go, while there is yet time!" SireEdward reflected. Undoubtedly, to light on Edward Longshanks alone in aforest would appear to King Philippe, if properly attended, a temptingchance to settle divers difficulties, once for all; and Sire Edward knewthe conscience of his old opponent to be invulnerable. The act wouldviolate the core of hospitality and knighthood, no doubt, but itsoutcome would be a very definite gain to France, and for the rest, merely a dead body in a ditch. Not a monarch in Christendom, Sire Edwardreflected, but feared and in consequence hated the Hammer of the Scots, and in further consequence would not lift a finger to avenge him; andnot a being in the universe would rejoice more heartily at the successof Philippe's treachery than would Sire Edward's son and immediatesuccessor, the young Prince Edward of Caernarvon. Taking matters by andlarge, Philippe had all the powers of common-sense to back him incontriving an assassination. 

What Sire Edward said was, "Dame Blanch, then, knew of this?" ButMeregrett's pitiful eyes had already answered him, and he laughed alittle. 

"In that event, I have to-night enregistered my name among the goodlycompany of Love's Lunatics, --as yokefellow with Dan Merlin in histhornbush, and with wise Salomon when he capered upon the high places ofChemosh, and with Duke Ares sheepishly agrin in the net of Mulciber. Rogues all, madame! fools all! yet always the flesh trammels us, andallures the soul to such sensual delights as bar its passage toward theeternal life wherein alone lies the empire and the heritage of the soul. And why does this carnal prison so impede the soul? Because Satan onceranked among the sons of God, and the Eternal Father, as I take it, hasnot yet forgotten the antique relationship, --and hence it is permittedeven in our late time that always the flesh rebel against the spirit, and that always these so tiny and so thin-voiced tricksters, thesehighly tinted miracles of iniquity, so gracious in demeanor and sostarry-eyed--"

Then he turned and pointed, no longer the orotund zealot but theexpectant captain now. "Look, my Princess!" In the pathway from which hehad recently emerged stood a man in full armor like a sentinel. "Mort deDieu, we can but try to get out of this, " Sire Edward said. 

"You should have tried without talking so much, " replied Meregrett. Shefollowed him. And presently, in a big splash of moonlight, the armedman's falchion glittered across their way. "Back, " he bade them, "for bythe King's orders, I can let no man pass. "

"It would be very easy now to strangle this herring, " Sire Edwardreflected. 

"But it is not easy to strangle a whole school of herring, " the fellowretorted. "Hoh, Messire d'Aquitaine, the bushes of Ermenoueîl are alivewith my associates. The hut yonder, in effect, is girdled by them, --andwe have our orders to let no man pass. "

"Have you any orders concerning women?" the King said. 

The man deliberated. Sire Edward handed him three gold pieces. "Therewas assuredly no specific mention of petticoats, " the soldier nowrecollected, "and in consequence I dare to pass the Princess, againstwhom certainly nothing can be planned. "

"Why, in that event, " Sire Edward said, "we two had as well bid eachother adieu. "

But Meregrett only said, "You bid me go?"

He waved his hand. "Since there is no choice. For that which you havedone--however tardily--I thank you. Meantime I return to Rigon's hut torearrange my toga as King Caesar did when the assassins fell upon him, and to encounter with due decorum whatever Dame Luck may prefer. "

She said, "You go to your death. "

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "In the end we necessarily die. "

Dame Meregrett turned, and without faltering passed back into the hut. 

When he had lighted the inefficient lamp which he found there, SireEdward wheeled upon her in half-humorous vexation. "Presently come yourbrother and his tattling lords. To be discovered here with me at night, alone, means trouble for you. If Philippe chances to fall into one ofhis Capetian rages it means death. "

She answered, as though she were thinking about other matters, "Yes. "

Now, for the first time, Sire Edward regarded her with profoundconsideration. To the finger-tips this so-little lady showed adescendant of the holy Lewis whom he had known and loved in old years. Small and thinnish she was, with soft and profuse hair that, for all itsblackness, gleamed in the lamplight with stray ripples of brilliancy, asyou may see sparks shudder to extinction over burning charcoal. She hadthe Valois nose, long and delicate in form, and overhanging a shortupper-lip; yet the lips were glorious in tint, and the whiteness of herskin would have matched the Hyperborean snows tidily enough. As for hereyes, the customary similes of the court poets were gigantic onyxes orebony highly polished and wet with May dew. These eyes were too big forher little face: they made of her a tiny and desirous wraith whichnervously endured each incident of life, like a foreigner uneasilyacquiescent to the custom of the country. 

Sire Edward moved one step toward this tiny lady and paused. "Madame, Ido not understand. "

Dame Meregrett looked up into his face unflinchingly. "It means that Ilove you, sire. I may speak without shame now, for presently you die. Die bravely, sire! Die in such fashion as may hearten me to live. "

The little Princess spoke the truth, for always since his coming toMezelais she had viewed the great conqueror as through an aweful haze offorerunning rumor, twin to that golden vapor which enswathes a god andtransmutes whatever in corporeal man would have been a defect into somedivine and hitherto unguessed-at excellence. I must tell you in thisplace, since no other occasion offers, that even until the end of herlife it was so. For to her what in other persons would have seemedflagrant dulness showed somehow, in Sire Edward, as the majesticdeliberation of one that knows his verdict to be decisive, and thereforeappraises cautiously; and if sometimes his big, irregular calm eyesbetrayed no apprehension of the jest at which her lips were laughing, and of which her brain approved, always within the instant her heartconvinced her that a god is not lightly moved to mirth. 

And now it was a god--_O deus certè!_--who had taken a woman's paltryface between his hands, half roughly. "And the maid is a Capet!" SireEdward mused. 

"Blanch has never desired you any ill, beau sire. But she loves theArchduke of Austria. And once you were dead, she might marry him. Onecannot blame her, " Meregrett considered, "since he wishes to marry her, and she, of course, wishes to make him happy. "

"And not herself, save in some secondary way!" the big King said. "Inpart I comprehend, madame. Now I too hanker after this same happiness, and my admiration for the cantankerous despoiler whom I praised thismorning is somewhat abated. There was a Tenson once--Lord, Lord, howlong ago! I learn too late that truth may possibly have been upon thelosing side--" Thus talking incoherencies, he took up Rigon's lute. 

Sang Sire Edward:

 "Incuriously he smites the armored king And tricks his counsellors--

"yes, the jingle ran thus. Now listen, madame--listen, the while that Ihave my singing out, whatever any little cut-throats may be planning incorners. "

Sang Sire Edward:

 "As, later on, Death will, half-idly, still our pleasuring, And change for fevered laughter in the sun Sleep such as Merlin's, --and excess thereof, -- Whence we, divorceless Death our Viviaine Implacable, may never more regain The unforgotten rapture, and the pain And grief and ecstasy of life and love. 

 "For, presently, as quiet as the king Sleeps now that planned the keeps of Ilion, We, too, will sleep, whilst overhead the spring Rules, and young lovers laugh--as we have done, -- And kiss--as we, that take no heed thereof, But slumber very soundly, and disdain The world-wide heralding of winter's wane And swift sweet ripple of the April rain Running about the world to waken love. 

 "We shall have done with Love, and Death be king And turn our nimble bodies carrion, Our red lips dusty;--yet our live lips cling Despite that age-long severance and are one Despite the grave and the vain grief thereof, -- Which we will baffle, if in Death's domain Fond memories may enter, and we twain May dream a little, and rehearse again In that unending sleep our present love. 

 "Speed forth to her in halting unison, My rhymes: and say no hindrance may restrain Love from his aim when Love is bent thereon; And that were love at my disposal lain-- All mine to take!--and Death had said, 'Refrain, Lest I, even I, exact the cost thereof, ' I know that even as the weather-vane Follows the wind so would I follow Love. "

Sire Edward put aside the lute. "Thus ends the Song of Service, " hesaid, "which was made not by the King of England but by EdwardPlantagenet--hot-blooded and desirous man!--in honor of the one womanwho within more years than I care to think of has at all consideredEdward Plantagenet. "

"I do not comprehend, " she said. And, indeed, she dared not. 

But now he held both tiny hands in his. "At best, your poet is anegotist. I must die presently. Meantime I crave largesse, madame, and agreat almsgiving, so that in his unending sleep your poet may rehearseour present love. " And even in Rigon's dim light he found her kindlingeyes not niggardly. 

Sire Edward strode to the window and raised big hands toward thespear-points of the aloof stars. "Master of us all!" he cried; "O Fatherof us all! the Hammer of the Scots am I! the Scourge of France, theconqueror of Llewellyn and of Leicester, and the flail of the accursedrace that slew Thine only Son! the King of England am I, who have madeof England an imperial nation, and have given to Thy Englishmen newlaws! And to-night I crave my hire. Never, O my Father, have I had ofany person aught save reverence or hatred! never in my life has anyperson loved me! And I am old, my Father--I am old, and presently I die. As I have served Thee--as Jacob wrestled with Thee at the ford ofJabbok--at the place of Peniel--" Against the tremulous blue and silverof the forest the Princess saw how horribly the big man was shaken. "Myhire! my hire!" he hoarsely said. "Forty long years, my Father! And nowI will not let Thee go except Thou hear me, and grant me life and thiswoman's love. "

He turned, stark and black in the rearward splendor of the moon. _"As aprince hast thou power with God, "_ he calmly said, _"and thou hastprevailed. _ For the King of kings was never obdurate, my dear, to themthat have deserved well of Him. So He will attend to my request, andwill get us out of this pickle somehow. "

Even as he said this, Philippe the Handsome came into the room, and atthe heels of the French King were seven lords, armed cap-à-pie. 

The French King was an odd man. Subtly smiling, he came forward throughthe twilight, with soft, long strides, and he made no outcry atrecognition of his sister. "Take the woman away, Victor, " he said, disinterestedly, to de Montespan. Afterward he sat down beside the tableand remained silent for a while, intently regarding Sire Edward and thetiny woman who clung to Sire Edward's arm; and in the flickering gloomof the hut Philippe smiled as an artist may smile who gazes on theperfected work and knows it to be adroit. 

"You prefer to remain, my sister?" he said presently. "Hé bien! ithappens that to-night I am in a mood for granting almost any favor. Alittle later and I will attend to your merits. " The fleet disorder ofhis visage had lapsed again into the meditative smile which was that ofLucifer watching a toasted soul. "And so it ends, " he said, "and Englandloses to-night the heir that Manuel the Redeemer provided. Conqueror ofScotland, Scourge of France! O unconquerable king! and will the worms ofErmenoueïl, then, pause to-morrow to consider through what a gloriousturmoil their dinner came to them?"

"Do you design to murder me?" Sire Edward said. 

The French King shrugged. "I design that within this moment my lordsshall slay you while I sit here and do not move a finger. Is it not goodto be a king, my cousin, and to sit quite still, and to see yourbitterest enemy hacked and slain, --and all the while to sit quite still, quite unruffled, as a king should always be? Eh, eh! I never lived untilto-night!"

"Now, by Heaven, " said Sire Edward, "I am your kinsman and your guest, Iam unarmed--"

Philippe bowed his head. "Undoubtedly, " he assented, "the deed is foul. But I desire Gascony very earnestly, and so long as you live you willnever permit me to retain Gascony. Hence it is quite necessary, youconceive, that I murder you. What!" he presently said, "will you not begfor mercy? I had hoped, " the French King added, somewhat wistfully, "that you might be afraid to die, O huge and righteous man! and wouldentreat me to spare you. To spurn the weeping conqueror of Llewellyn, say . . . But these sins which damn one's soul are in actual performancevery tedious affairs; and I begin to grow aweary of the game. Hé bien!now kill this man for me, messieurs. "

The English King strode forward. "Shallow trickster!" Sire Edwardthundered. _"Am I not afraid?_ You grimacing baby, do you think toensnare a lion with such a flimsy rat-trap? Wise persons do not huntlions with these contraptions: for it is the nature of a rat-trap, faircousin, to ensnare not the beast which imperiously desires and takes indaylight, but the tinier and the filthier beast that covets meanly andattacks under the cover of darkness--as do you and your seven skulkers!"The man was rather terrible; not a Frenchman within the hut but haddrawn back a little. 

"Listen!" Sire Edward said, and he came yet farther toward the King ofFrance and shook at him one forefinger; "when you were in your cradle Iwas leading armies. When you were yet unbreeched I was lord of halfEurope. For thirty years I have driven kings before me as did Fierabras. Am I, then, a person to be hoodwinked by the first big-bosomed huzzythat elects to waggle her fat shoulders and to grant an assignation in aforest expressly designed for stabbings? You baby, is the Hammer of theScots the man to trust for one half moment a Capet? Ill-manneredinfant, " the King said, with bitter laughter, "it is now necessary thatI summon my attendants and remove you to a nursery which I have preparedin England. " He set the horn to his lips and blew three blasts. Therecame many armed warriors into the hut, bearing ropes. Here was theentire retinue of the Earl of Aquitaine. Cursing, Sire Philippe sprangupon the English King, and with a dagger smote at the impassive bigman's heart. The blade broke against the mail armor under the tunic. "Have I not told you, " Sire Edward wearily said, "that one may nevertrust a Capet? Now, messieurs, bind these carrion and convey themwhither I have directed you. Nay, but, Roger--" He conversed apart withhis son, the Earl of Pevensey, and what Sire Edward commanded was done. The French King and seven lords of France went from that hut trussedlike chickens ready for the oven. 

And now Sire Edward turned toward Meregrett and chafed his big handsgleefully. "At every tree-bole a tethered horse awaits us; and a shipawaits our party at Fécamp. To-morrow we sleep in England--and, Mort deDieu! do you not think, madame, that once within my very persuasiveTower of London, your brother and I may come to some agreement overGuienne?"

She had shrunk from him. "Then the trap was yours? It was you that luredmy brother to this infamy!"

"In effect, I planned it many months ago at Ipswich yonder, " Sire Edwardgayly said. "Faith of a gentleman! your brother has cheated me ofGuienne, and was I to waste eternity in begging him to give me back myprovince? Oh, no, for I have many spies in France, and have for some twoyears known your brother and your sister to the bottom. Granted that Icame hither incognito, to forecast your kinfolk's immediate endeavorswas none too difficult; and I wanted Guienne--and, in consequence, theperson of your brother. Hah, death of my life! does not the seasonedhunter adapt his snare to the qualities of his prey, and take theelephant through his curiosity, as the snake through his notorioustreachery?" Now the King of England blustered. 

But the little Princess wrung her hands. "I am this night most hideouslyshamed. Beau sire, I came hither to aid a brave man infamously trapped, and instead I find an alert spider, snug in his cunning web, andpatiently waiting until the gnats of France fly near enough. Eh, thegreater fool was I to waste my labor on the shrewd and evil thing whichhas no more need of me than I of it! And now let me go hence, sire, unmolested, for the sake of chivalry. Could I have come to the brave manI had dreamed of, I would have come cheerily through the murkiest laneof hell; as the more artful knave, as the more judicious trickster"--andhere she thrust him from her--"I spit upon you. Now let me go hence. "

He took her in his brawny arms. "Fit mate for me, " he said. "Littlevixen, had you done otherwise I would have devoted you to the devil. "

Still grasping her, and victoriously lifting Dame Meregrett, so thather feet swung clear of the floor, Sire Edward said, again with thatqueer touch of fanatic gravity: "My dear, you are perfectly right. I wastempted, I grant you. But it was never reasonable that gentlefolk shouldcheat at their dicing. Therefore I whispered Roger Bulmer my finaldecision; and he is now loosing all my captives in the courtyard ofMezelais, after birching the tails of every one of them as soundly asthese infants' pranks to-night have merited. So you perceive that I donot profit by my trick; and that I lose Guienne, after all, in order tocome to you with hands--well! not intolerably soiled. "

"Oh, now I love you!" she cried, a-thrill with disappointment to findhim so unthriftily high-minded. "Yet you have done wrong, for Guienne isa king's ransom. "

He smiled whimsically, and presently one arm swept beneath her knees, sothat presently he held her as one dandles a baby; and presently hisstiff and graying beard caressed her burning cheek. Masterfully he said:"Then let Guienne serve as such and ransom for a king his glad andcommon manhood. Now it appears expedient that I leave France without anyunwholesome delay, because these children may resent being spanked. Morelately--hé, already I have in my pocket the Pope's dispensationpermitting me to marry, in spite of our cousinship, the sister of theKing of France. "

Very shyly Dame Meregrett lifted her little mouth. She said nothingbecause talk was not necessary. 

In consequence, after a deal of political tergiversation (Nicolasconcludes), in the year of grace 1299, on the day of our Lady'snativity, and in the twenty-seventh year of King Edward's reign, came tothe British realm, and landed at Dover, not Dame Blanch, as would havebeen in consonance with seasoned expectation, but Dame Meregrett, theother daughter of King Philippe the Bold; and upon the following dayproceeded to Canterbury, whither on the next Thursday after came Edward, King of England, into the Church of the Trinity at Canterbury, andtherein espoused the aforesaid Dame Meregrett. 

THE END OF THE THIRD NOVEL

IV

THE STORY OF THE CHOICES

 "Sest fable es en aquest mon Semblans al homes que i son; Que el mager sen qu'om pot aver So es amar Dieu et sa mer, E gardar sos comendamens. "

THE FOURTH NOVEL. --YSABEAU OF FRANCE, DESIROUS OF DISTRACTION, LOOKS FORRECREATION IN THE TORMENT OF A CERTAIN KNIGHT, WHOM SHE PROVES TO BE NOMORE THAN HUMAN; BUT IN THE OUTCOME OF HER HOLIDAY HE CONFOUNDS THISQUEEN BY THE WIT OF HIS REPLY. 

The Story of the Choices

In the year of grace 1327 (thus Nicolas begins) you could have found inall England no couple more ardent in affection or in despair moreaffluent than Rosamund Eastney and Sir Gregory Darrell. She was LordBerners' only daughter, a brown beauty, of extensive repute, thanks to aretinue of lovers who were practitioners of the Gay Science, and who hadscattered broadcast innumerable Canzons in her honor; and Lord Bernerswas a man to accept the world as he found it. 

"Dompnedex!" the Earl was wont to say; "in sincerity I am fond ofGregory Darrell, and if he chooses to make love to my daughter that isnone of my affair. The eyes and the brain preserve a proverbial warfare, which is the source of all amenity, for without lady-service there wouldbe no songs and tourneys, no measure and no good breeding; and a mandelinquent in domnei is no more to be valued than an ear of cornwithout the grain. No, I am so profoundly an admirer of Love that I cannever willingly behold him slain, of a surfeit, by Matrimony; besides, this rapscallion Gregory could not to advantage exchange purses withLazarus in the parable; and, moreover, Rosamund is to marry the Earl ofSarum a little after All Saints' day. "

"Sarum!" people echoed. "Why, the old goat has had four wives already!"

And the Earl would spread his hands. "These redundancies are permissibleto one of the wealthiest persons in England, " he was used to submit. 

Thus it fell out that Sir Gregory came and went at his own discretion asconcerned Lord Berners' fief of Ordish, all through those choppy timesof warfare between Sire Edward and Queen Ysabeau. Lord Berners, for one, vexed himself not inordinately over the outcome, since he protested theKing's armament to consist of fools and the Queen's of rascals; and hadwith entire serenity declined to back either Dick or the devil. 

But at last the Queen got resistless aid from Count William of Hainault(in a way to be told about hereafter), and the King was captured by herforces, and was imprisoned in Berkeley Castle. There they held thesecond Edward to reign in England, who was the unworthy son of DameEllinor and of that first squinting King Edward about whom I have toldyou in the two tales preceding this tale. It was in the September ofthis year, a little before Michaelmas, that they brought Sir GregoryDarrell to be judged by the Queen; notoriously the knight had been herhusband's adherent. "Death!" croaked Adam Orleton, who sat to the righthand, and, "Young de Spencer's death!" amended the Earl of March, withwild laughter; but Ysabeau leaned back in her great chair--a handsomewoman, stoutening now from gluttony and from too much wine, --andregarded her prisoner with lazy amiability. 

"And what was your errand in Figgis Wood?" she demanded--"or are youmad, then, Gregory Darrell, that you dare ride past my gates alone?"

He curtly said, "I rode for Ordish. "

Followed silence. "Roger, " the Queen ordered, "give me the paper which Iwould not sign. "

The Earl of March had drawn an audible breath. The Bishop of Londonsomewhat wrinkled his shaggy brows, like a person in shrewd andepicurean amusement, while the Queen subscribed the parchment, with agreat scrawling flourish. 

"Take, in the devil's name, the hire of your dexterities, " said Ysabeau. She pushed this document with her wet pen-point toward March. "So! getit over with, that necessary business with my husband at Berkeley. Anddo the rest of you withdraw, saving only my prisoner. "

Followed another silence. Queen Ysabeau lolled in her carven chair, considering the comely gentleman who stood before her, fettered, at thepoint of shameful death. There was in the room a little dog which hadcome to the Queen, and now licked the palm of her left hand, and thesoft lapping of its tongue was the only sound you heard. "So at peril ofyour life you rode for Ordish, then, messire?"

The tense man had flushed. "You have harried us of the King's party outof England, --and in reason I might not leave England without seeing thedesire of my heart. "

"My friend, " said Ysabeau, as if half in sorrow, "I would have pardonedanything save that. " She rose. Her face was dark and hot. "By God andall His saints! you shall indeed leave England to-morrow and the worldalso! but not without a final glimpse of this same Rosamund. Yet listen:I, too, must ride with you to Ordish--as your sister, say--Gregory, didI not hang, last April, the husband of your sister? Yes, Ralph deBelomys, a thin man with eager eyes, the Earl of Farrington he was. Ashis widow I will ride with you to Ordish, upon condition you disclose tonone at Ordish, saving only, if you will, this quite immaculateRosamund, any hint of our merry carnival. And to-morrow (you will swearaccording to the nicest obligations of honor) you must ride back with meto encounter--that which I may devise. For I dare to trust your nakedword in this, and, moreover, I shall take with me a sufficiency ofretainers to leave you no choice. "

Darrell knelt before her. "I can do no homage to Queen Ysabeau; yet theprodigal hands of her who knows that I must die to-morrow and cunninglycontrives, for old time's sake, to hearten me with a sight of Rosamund, I cannot but kiss. " This much he did. "And I swear in all things to obeyyour will. "

"O comely fool!" the Queen said, not ungently, "I contrive, it may be, but to demonstrate that many tyrants of antiquity were only bunglers. And, besides, I must have other thoughts than those which I have knowntoo long: I must this night take holiday from thinking them, lest I gomad. "

Thus did the Queen arrange her holiday. 

"Either I mean to torture you to-morrow, " Dame Ysabeau said, presently, to Darrell, as these two rode side by side, "or else I mean to free you. In sober verity I do not know. I am in a holiday humor, and it is as thewhim may take me. But do you indeed love this Rosamund Eastney? And ofcourse she worships you?"

"It is my belief, madame, that when I see her I tremble visibly, and myweakness is such that a child has more intelligence than I, --and towardsuch misery any lady must in common reason be a little compassionate. "

Her hands had twitched so that the astonished palfrey reared. "I designtorture, " the Queen said; "ah, I perfect exquisite torture, for you haveproven recreant, you have forgotten the maid Ysabeau, --Le Desir duCuer, was it not, my Gregory, that you were wont to call her, asnowadays this Rosamund is the desire of your heart. You lackinventiveness. "

His palms clutched at heaven. "That Ysabeau is dead! and all true joy isdestroyed, and the world lies under a blight from which God has avertedan unfriendly face in displeasure! yet of all wretched persons existentI am he who endures the most grievous anguish, for daily I partake oflife without any relish, and I would in truth deem him austerely kindwho slew me now that the maiden Ysabeau is dead. "

She shrugged wearily. "I scent the raw stuff of a Planh, " the Queenobserved; "_benedicite!_ it was ever your way, my friend, to love awoman chiefly for the verses she inspired. " And she began to sing, asthey rode through Baverstock Thicket. 

Sang Ysabeau:

 "Man's love hath many prompters, But a woman's love hath none; And he may woo a nimble wit Or hair that shames the sun, Whilst she must pick of all one man And ever brood thereon-- And for no reason, And not rightly, --

 "Save that the plan was foreordained (More old than Chalcedon, Or any tower of Tarshish Or of gleaming Babylon), That she must love unwillingly And love till life be done, --. He for a season, And more lightly. "

So to Ordish in that twilight came the Countess of Farrington, with aretinue of twenty men-at-arms, and her brother Sir Gregory Darrell. LordBerners received the party with boisterous hospitality. 

"Age has not blinded Father to the fact that your sister is a veryhandsome woman, " was Rosamund Eastney's comment. The period appears tohave been after supper, and the girl sat with Gregory Darrell in not themost brilliant corner of the main hall. 

The wretched man leaned forward, bit his nether-lip, and then with atumbling rush of speech told of the sorry masquerade. "The she-devildesigns some horrible and obscure mischief, she plans I know not what. "

"Yet I--" said Rosamund. The girl had risen, and she continued with anodd inconsequence: "You have told me you were Pembroke's squire whenlong ago he sailed for France to fetch this woman into England--"

"--Which you never heard!" Lord Berners shouted at this point. "Jasper, a lute!" And then he halloaed, "Gregory, Madame de Farrington demandsthat racy song you made against Queen Ysabeau during your last visit. "Thus did the Queen begin her holiday. 

It was a handsome couple which came forward, with hand quitting handtardily, and with blinking eyes yet rapt: these two were not overpleasedat being disturbed, and the man was troubled, as in reason he well mightbe, by the task assigned him. 

"Is it, indeed, your will, my sister, " he said, "that I shouldsing--this song?"

"It is my will, " the Countess said. 

And the knight flung back his comely head and laughed. "A truth, oncespoken, may not be disowned in any company. It is not, look you, of myown choice that I sing, my sister. Yet if Queen Ysabeau herself were tobid me sing this song, I could not refuse, for, Christ aid me! the songis true. "

Sang Sir Gregory:

 "Dame Ysabeau, la prophécie Que li sage dit ne ment mie, Que la royne sut ceus grever Qui tantost laquais sot aymer--"[4]

and so on. It was a lengthy ditty, and in its wording not oversqueamish;the Queen's career in England was detailed without any stuttering, andyou would have found the catalogue unhandsome. Yet Sir Gregory deliveredit with an incisive gusto, desperately countersigning his own deathwarrant. Her treacheries, her adulteries and her assassinations wererendered in glowing terms whose vigor seemed, even now, to please theircontriver. Yet the minstrel added a new peroration. 

Sang Sir Gregory:

 "Ma voix mocque, mon cuer gémit-- Peu pense à ce que la voix dit, Car me membre du temps jadis Et d'ung garson, d'amour surpris, Et d'une fille--et la vois si-- Et grandement suis esbahi. "

And when Darrell had ended, the Countess of Farrington, withoutspeaking, swept her left hand toward her cheek and by pure chance caughtbetween thumb and forefinger the autumn-numbed fly that had annoyed her. She drew the little dagger from her girdle and meditatively cut thebuzzing thing in two. She cast the fragments from her, and resting thedagger's point upon the arm of her chair, one forefinger upon the summitof the hilt, considerately twirled the brilliant weapon. 

"This song does not err upon the side of clemency, " she said at last, "nor by ordinary does Queen Ysabeau. "

"That she-wolf!" said Lord Berners, comfortably. "Hoo, Madame Gertrude!since the Prophet Moses wrung healing waters from a rock there has beenno such miracle recorded. "

"We read, Messire de Berners, that when the she-wolf once acknowledges amaster she will follow him as faithfully as any dog. My brother, I donot question your sincerity, yet everybody knows you sing with the voiceof an unhonored courtier. Suppose Queen Ysabeau had heard your song allthrough as I have heard it, and then had said--for she is not as the runof women--'Messire, I had thought until this that there was no thoroughman in England save tall Roger Mortimer. I find him tawdry now, and--Iremember. Come you, then, and rule the England that you love as you maylove no woman, and rule me, messire, since I find even in yourcruelty--For we are no pygmies, you and I! Yonder is squabbling Europeand all the ancient gold of Africa, ready for our taking! and past thatlies Asia, too, and its painted houses hung with bells, and cloud-wraptTartary, where we two may yet erect our equal thrones, upon which toreceive the tributary emperors! For we are no pygmies, you and I. " Shepaused. She shrugged. "Suppose Queen Ysabeau, who is not as the run ofwomen, had said this much, my brother?"

Darrell was more pallid (as the phrase is) than a sheet, and the lutehad dropped unheeded, and his hands were clenched. 

"I would answer, my sister, that as she has found in England but oneman, I have found in England but one woman--the rose of all the world. "His eyes were turned at this toward Rosamund Eastney. "And yet, " the manstammered, "because I, too, remember--"

"Hah, in God's name! I am answered, " the Countess said. She rose, indignity almost a queen. "We have ridden far to-day, and to-morrow wemust travel a deal farther--eh, my brother? I am going to bed, Messirede Berners. "

So the men and women parted. Madame de Farrington kissed her brother atleaving him, as was natural; and under her caress his stalwart personshuddered, but not in repugnance; and the Queen went away singinghushedly. 

Sang Ysabeau:

 "Were the All-Mother wise, life (shaped anotherwise) Would be all high and true; Could I be otherwise I had been otherwise Simply because of you, . . . With whom I have naught to do, And who are no longer you!

 "Life with its pay to be bade us essay to be What we became, --I believe Were there a way to be what it was play to be I would not greatly grieve . . . Hearts are not worn on the sleeve. Let us neither laugh nor grieve!"

Ysabeau would have slept that night within the chamber of RosamundEastney had either slept. As concerns the older I say nothing. The girl, though soon aware of frequent rustlings near at hand, lay quiet, half-forgetful of the poisonous woman yonder. The girl was now fulfilledwith a great blaze of exultation: to-morrow Gregory must die, and thenperhaps she might find time for tears; meanwhile, before her eyes, theman had flung away a kingdom and life itself for love of her, and theleast nook of her heart ached to be a shade more worthy of thesacrifice. 

After it might have been an hour of this excruciate ecstasy the Countesscame to Rosamund's bed. "Ay, " the woman began, "it is indisputable thathis hair is like spun gold and that his eyes resemble sun-drenchedwaters in June. It is certain that when this Gregory laughs God is morehappy. Girl, I was familiar with the routine of your meditations beforeyou were born. "

Rosamund said, quite simply: "You have known him always. I envy thecircumstance, Madame Gertrude--you alone of all women in the world Ienvy, since you, his sister, being so much older, must have known himalways. "

"I know him to the core, my girl, " the Countess answered. For a whileshe sat silent, one bare foot jogging restlessly. "Yet I am two yearshis junior--Did you hear nothing, Rosamund?" "No, Madame Gertrude, Iheard nothing. "

"Strange!" the Countess said; "let us have lights, since I can no longerendure this overpopulous twilight. " She kindled, with twitching fingers, three lamps. "It is as yet dark yonder, where the shadows quiver veryoddly, as though they would rise from the floor--do they not, mygirl?--and protest vain things. But, Rosamund, it has been done; in themoment of death men's souls have travelled farther and have beenvisible; it has been done, I tell you. And he would stand before me, with pleading eyes, and would reproach me in a voice too faint to reachmy ears--but I would see him--and his groping hands would clutch at myhands as though a dropped veil had touched me, and with the contact Iwould go mad!"

"Madame Gertrude!" the girl stammered, in communicated terror. 

"Poor innocent fool!" the woman said, "I am Ysabeau of France. " And whenRosamund made as though to rise, in alarm, Queen Ysabeau caught her bythe shoulder. "Bear witness when he comes that I never hated him. Yetfor my quiet it was necessary that it suffer so cruelly, the scented, pampered body, and no mark be left upon it! Eia! even now he suffers!No, I have lied. I hate the man, and in such fashion as you willcomprehend when you are Sarum's wife. "

"Madame and Queen!" the girl said, "you will not murder me!" "I amtempted!" the Queen answered. "O little slip of girlhood, I am tempted, for it is not reasonable you should possess everything that I have lost. Innocence you have, and youth, and untroubled eyes, and quiet dreams, and the fond graveness of a child, and Gregory Darrell's love--" NowYsabeau sat down upon the bed and caught up the girl's face between twofevered hands. "Rosamund, this Darrell perceives within the moment, as Ido, that the love he bears for you is but what he remembers of the lovehe bore a certain maid long dead. Eh, you might have been her sister, Rosamund, for you are very like her. And she, poor wench--why, I couldsee her now, I think, were my eyes not blurred, somehow, almost asthough Queen Ysabeau might weep! But she was handsomer than you, sinceyour complexion is not overclear, praise God!"

Woman against woman they were. "He has told me of his intercourse withyou, " the girl said, and this was a lie flatfooted. "Nay, kill me if youwill, madame, since you are the stronger, yet, with my dying breath, Iprotest that Gregory has loved no woman truly in all his life exceptme. "

The Queen laughed bitterly. "Do I not know men? He told you nothing. Andto-night he hesitated, and to-morrow, at the lifting of my finger, hewill supplicate. Since boyhood Gregory Darrell has loved me, O white, palsied innocence! and he is mine at a whistle. And in that time tocome he will desert you, Rosamund--bidding farewell with a pleasingCanzon, --and they will give you to the gross Earl of Sarum, as they gaveme to the painted man who was of late our King! and in that time to comeyou will know your body to be your husband's makeshift when he lacksleisure to seek out other recreation! and in that time to come you willlong for death, and presently your heart will be a flame within you, myRosamund, an insatiable flame! and you will hate your God because Hemade you, and hate Satan because in some desperate hour he tricked you, and hate all men because, poor fools, they scurry to obey your whims!and chiefly you will hate yourself because you are so pitiable! anddevastation only will you love in that strange time which is to come. Itis adjacent, my Rosamund. "

The girl kept silence. She sat erect in the tumbled bed, her handsclasping her knees, and she appeared to deliberate what Dame Ysabeau hadsaid. Plentiful brown hair fell about this Rosamund's face, which waswhite and shrewd. "A part of what you say, madame, I understand. I knowthat Gregory Darrell loves me, yet I have long ago acknowledged he lovesme as one pets a child, or, let us say, a spaniel which reveres andamuses one. I lack his wit, you comprehend, and so he never speaks to meall that he thinks. Yet a part of it he tells me, and he loves me, andwith this I am content. Assuredly, if they give me to Sarum I shall hateSarum even more than I detest him now. And then, I think, Heaven helpme! that I would not greatly grieve--Oh, you are all evil!" Rosamundsaid; "and you thrust into my mind thoughts which I may not understand!"

"You will comprehend them, " the Queen said, "when you know yourself achattel, bought and paid for. "

The Queen laughed. She rose, and her hands strained toward heaven. "Youare omnipotent, yet have You let me become that into which I amtransmuted, " she said, very low. 

She began to speak as though a statue spoke through lips that seemedmotionless. "Men have long urged me, Rosamund, to a deed which by onestroke would make me mistress of these islands. To-day I looked onGregory Darrell, and knew that I was wise in love--and I had but tocrush a lewd soft worm to come to him. Eh, and I was tempted--!"

The girl said: "Let us grant that Gregory loves you very greatly, and mejust when his leisure serves. You may offer him a cushioned infamy, acolorful and brief delirium, and afterward demolishment of soul andbody; I offer him contentment and a level life, made up of small events, it may be, and lacking both in abysses and in skyey heights. Yet is lovea flame wherein the lover's soul must be purified; it is a flame whichassays high queens just as it does their servants: and thus, madame, tojudge between us I dare summon you. " "Child, child!" the Queen said, tenderly, and with a smile, "you are brave; and in your fashion you arewise; yet you will never comprehend. But once I was in heart and souland body all that you are to-day; and now I am Queen Ysabeau--Did you intruth hear nothing, Rosamund?"

"Why, nothing save the wind. "

"Strange!" said the Queen; "since all the while that I have talked withyou I have been seriously annoyed by shrieks and imprecations! But I, too, grow cowardly, it may be--Nay, I know, " she said, and in a resonantvoice, "that by this I am mistress of broad England, until my son--myown son, born of my body, and in glad anguish, Rosamund--knows me forwhat I am. For I have heard--Coward! O beautiful sleek coward!" theQueen said; "I would have died without lamentation and I was but yourplaything!"

"Madame Ysabeau--!" the girl answered vaguely, for she was puzzled andwas almost frightened by the other's strange talk. 

"To bed!" said Ysabeau; "and put out the lights lest he come presently. Or perhaps he fears me now too much to come to-night. Yet the nightapproaches, none the less, when I must lift some arras and find himthere, chalk-white, with painted cheeks, and rigid, and smiling veryterribly, or look into some mirror and behold there not myself buthim, --and in that instant I shall die. Meantime I rule, until my sonattains his manhood. Eh, Rosamund, my only son was once so tiny, and sohelpless, and his little crimson mouth groped toward me, helplessly, andsave in Bethlehem, I thought, there was never any child more fair--But Imust forget all that, for even now he plots. Hey, God orders mattersvery shrewdly, my Rosamund. "

Timidly the girl touched Ysabeau's shoulder. "In part, I understand, madame and Queen. "

"You understand nothing, " said Ysabeau; "how should you understand whosebreasts are yet so tiny? So let us put out the light! though I dreaddarkness, Rosamund--For they say that hell is poorly lighted--and theysay--" Then Queen Ysabeau shrugged. Pensively she blew out each lamp. 

"We know this Gregory Darrell, " the Queen said in the darkness, "ah, tothe marrow we know him, however steadfastly we blink, and we know thepresent turmoil of his soul; and in common-sense what chance have you ofvictory?"

"None in common-sense, madame, and yet you go too fast. For man is abeing of mingled nature, we are told by those in holy orders, and hislife here is one unending warfare between that which is divine in himand that which is bestial, while impartial Heaven attends as arbiter ofthe tourney. Always a man's judgment misleads him and his facultiesallure him to a truce, however brief, with iniquity. His senses raise amist about his goings, and there is not an endowment of the man but inthe end plays traitor to his interest, as of God's wisdom God intends;so that when the man is overthrown, the Eternal Father may, in reason, be neither vexed nor grieved if only the man takes heart to rise again. And when, betrayed and impotent, the man elects to fight out theallotted battle, defiant of common-sense and of the counsellors whichGod Himself accorded, I think that the Saints hold festival in heaven. "

"A very pretty sermon, " said the Queen. "Yet I do not think that ourGregory could very long endure a wife given over to such high-mindedtalking. He prefers to hear himself do the fine talking. "

Followed a silence, vexed only on the purposeless September winds; but Ibelieve that neither of these two slept with profundity. 

About dawn one of the Queen's attendants roused Sir Gregory Darrell andconducted him into the hedged garden of Ordish, where Ysabeau walked intranquil converse with Lord Berners. The old man was in high good-humor. 

"My lad, " said he, and clapped Sir Gregory upon the shoulder, "you have, I do protest, the very phoenix of sisters. I was never happier. " And hewent away chuckling. 

The Queen said in a toneless voice, "We ride for Blackfriars now. "

Darrell responded, "I am content, and ask but leave to speak, briefly, with Dame Rosamund before I die. "

Then the woman came more near to him. "I am not used to beg, but withinthis hour you encounter death, and I have loved no man in all my lifesaving only you, Sir Gregory Darrell. Nor have you loved any person asyou loved me once in France. Oh, to-day, I may speak freely, for withyou the doings of that boy and girl are matters overpast. Yet were itotherwise--eh, weigh the matter carefully! for I am mistress of Englandnow, and England would I give you, and such love as that slim, whiteinnocence has never dreamed of would I give you, Gregory Darrell--No, no! ah, Mother of God, not you!" The Queen clapped one hand upon hislips. 

"Listen, " she quickly said; "I spoke to tempt you. But you saw, and yousaw clearly, that it was the sickly whim of a wanton, and you neverdreamed of yielding, for you love this Rosamund Eastney, and you know meto be vile. Then have a care of me! The strange woman am I, of whom weread that her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers ofdeath. Hoh, many strong men have been slain by me, and in the gray timeto come will many others be slain by me, it may be; but never you amongthem, my Gregory, who are more wary, and more merciful, and who knowthat I have need to lay aside at least one comfortable thought againsteternity. "

"I concede you to have been unwise--" he hoarsely began. 

About them fell the dying leaves, of many glorious colors, but the airof this new day seemed raw and chill. 

Then Rosamund came through the opening in the hedge. "Now, choose, " shesaid; "the woman offers life and high place and wealth, and it may be, agreater love than I am capable of giving you. I offer a dishonorabledeath within the moment. "

And again, with that peculiar and imperious gesture, the man flung backhis head, and he laughed. Said Gregory Darrell:

"I am I! and I will so to live that I may face without shame not onlyGod, but also my own scrutiny. " He wheeled upon the Queen and spokehenceforward very leisurely. "I love you; all my life long I have lovedyou, Ysabeau, and even now I love you: and you, too, dear Rosamund, Ilove, though with a difference. And every fibre of my being lusts forthe power that you would give me, Ysabeau, and for the good which Iwould do with it in the England which I or blustering Roger Mortimermust rule; as every fibre of my being lusts for the man that I would becould I choose death without debate. And I think also of the man thatyou would make of me, my Rosamund. 

"The man! And what is this man, this Gregory Darrell, that his welfareshould be considered?--an ape who chatters to himself of kinship withthe archangels while filthily he digs for groundnuts! This much I know, at bottom. 

"Yet more clearly do I perceive that this same man, like all hisfellows, is a maimed god who walks the world dependent upon many wiseand evil counsellors. He must measure, to a hair's-breadth, everycontent of the world by means of a bloodied sponge, tucked somewhere inhis skull, a sponge which is ungeared by the first cup of wine andruined by the touch of his own finger. He must appraise all that hejudges with no better instruments than two bits of colored jelly, with abungling makeshift so maladroit that the nearest horologer's apprenticecould have devised a more accurate device. In fine, each man is underpenalty condemned to compute eternity with false weights, to estimateinfinity with a yard-stick: and he very often does it, and chooses hisown death without debate. For though, 'If then I do that which I wouldnot I consent unto the law, ' saith even an Apostle; yet a braver Pagananswers him, 'Perceive at last that thou hast in thee something betterand more divine than the things which cause the various effects and, asit were, pull thee by the strings. '

"There lies the choice which every man must face, --whether rationally, as his reason goes, to accept his own limitations and make the best ofhis allotted prison-yard? or stupendously to play the fool and sweareven to himself (while his own judgment shrieks and proves a flatdenial), that he is at will omnipotent? You have chosen long ago, mypoor proud Ysabeau; and I choose now, and differently: for poltroon thatI am! being now in a cold drench of terror, I steadfastly protest I amnot very much afraid, and I choose death without any more debate. "

It was toward Rosamund that the Queen looked, and smiled a littlepitifully. "Should Queen Ysabeau be angry or vexed or very cruel now, myRosamund? for at bottom she is glad. "

And the Queen said also: "I give you back your plighted word. I ridehomeward to my husks, but you remain. Or rather, the Countess ofFarrington departs for the convent of Ambresbury, disconsolate in herwidowhood and desirous to have done with worldly affairs. It is mostnatural she should relinquish to her beloved and only brother all herdower-lands--or so at least Messire de Berners acknowledges. Here, then, is the grant, my Gregory, that conveys to you those lands of Ralph deBelomys which last year I confiscated. And this tedious Messire deBerners is willing now--he is eager to have you for a son-in-law. "

About them fell the dying leaves, of many glorious colors, but the airof this new day seemed raw and chill, while, very calmly, Dame Ysabeautook Sir Gregory's hand and laid it upon the hand of Rosamund Eastney. "Our paladin is, in the outcome, a mortal man, and therefore I do notaltogether envy you. Yet he has his moments, and you are capable. Serve, then, not only his desires but mine also, dear Rosamund. "

There was a silence. The girl spoke as though it was a sacrament. "Iwill, madame and Queen. "

Thus did the Queen end her holiday. 

A little later the Countess of Farrington rode from Ordish with all hertrain save one; and riding from that place, where love was, she sangvery softly. 

Sang Ysabeau:

 "As with her dupes dealt Circe Life deals with hers, for she Reshapes them without mercy, And shapes them swinishly, To wallow swinishly, And for eternity;

 "Though, harder than the witch was, Life, changing not the whole, Transmutes the body, which was Proud garment of the soul, And briefly drugs the soul, Whose ruin is her goal;

 "And means by this thereafter A subtler mirth to get, And mock with bitterer laughter Her helpless dupes' regret, Their swinish dull regret For what they half forget. "

And within the hour came Hubert Frayne to Ordish, on a foam-speckedhorse, as he rode to announce to the King's men the King's barbaricmurder overnight, at Berkeley Castle, by Queen Ysabeau's order. 

"Ride southward, " said Lord Berners, and panted as they buckled on hisdisused armor; "but harkee, Frayne! if you pass the Countess ofFarrington's company, speak no syllable of your news, since it is notconvenient that a lady so thoroughly and so praise-worthily--Lord, Lord, how I have fattened!--so intent on holy things, in fine, should have hermeditations disturbed by any such unsettling tidings. Hey, son-in-law?"

Sir Gregory Darrell laughed, very bitterly. "He that is without blemishamong you--" he said. Then they armed completely, and went forth tobattle against the murderous harlot. 

THE END OF THE FOURTH NOVEL

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: For this perplexing matter the curious may consult PaulVerville's _Notice sur la vie de Nicolas de Caen, p. 93 et seq_. Theindebtedness to Antoine Riczi is, of course, conceded by Nicolas in his"EPILOGUE. "]

[Footnote 2: She was the daughter of King Ferdinand of Leon and Castile, whose conversion to sainthood the inquisitive may find recordedelsewhere. ]

[Footnote 3: Not without indulgence in anachronism. But Nicolas, be itrepeated, was no Gradgrindian. ]

[Footnote 4: Nicolas gives this ballad in full, but, for obviousreasons, his translator would prefer to do otherwise. ]

V

THE STORY OF THE HOUSEWIFE

 "Selh que m blasma vostr' amor ni m defen Non podon far en re mon cor mellor, Ni'l dous dezir qu'ieu ai de vos major, Ni l'enveya' ni'l dezir, ni'l talen. "

THE FIFTH NOVEL. --PHILIPPA OF HAINAULT DARES TO LOVE UNTHRIFTILY, ANDWITH THE PRODIGALITY OF HER AFFECTION SHAMES TREACHERY, ANDCOMMON-SENSE, AND HIGH ROMANCE, QUITE STOLIDLY; BUT, AS LOVING GOES, IS OVERTOPPED BY HER MORE STOLID SQUIRE. 

_The Story of the Housewife_

In the year of grace 1326, upon Walburga's Eve, some three hours aftersunset (thus Nicolas begins), had you visited a certain garden on theoutskirts of Valenciennes, you might there have stumbled upon a big, handsome boy, prone on the turf, where by turns he groaned and ventedhimself in sullen curses. His profanity had its palliation. Heir toEngland though he was, you must know that this boy's father in theflesh had hounded him from England, as more recently had the lad'suncle Charles the Handsome driven him from France. Now had this boyand his mother (the same Queen Ysabeau about whom I have told you inthe preceding tale) come as suppliants to the court of that stalwartnobleman Sire William (Count of Hainault, Holland, and Zealand, andLord of Friesland), where their arrival had evoked the suggestion thatthey depart at their earliest convenience. To-morrow, then, thesefootsore royalties, the Queen of England and the Prince of Wales, would be thrust out-of-doors to resume the weary beggarship, to knockagain upon the obdurate gates of this unsympathizing king or that deafemperor. 

Accordingly the boy aspersed his destiny. At hand a nightingalecarolled as though an exiled prince were the blithest spectacle themoon knew. 

There came through the garden a tall girl, running, stumbling in herhaste. "Hail, King of England!" she said. 

"Do not mock me, Philippa!" the boy half-sobbed. Sulkily he rose tohis feet. 

"No mockery here, my fair sweet friend. No, I have told my father allwhich happened yesterday. I pleaded for you. He questioned me veryclosely. And when I had ended, he stroked his beard, and presentlystruck one hand upon the table. 'Out of the mouth of babes!' he said. Then he said: 'My dear, I believe for certain that this lady and herson have been driven from their kingdom wrongfully. If it be for thegood of God to comfort the afflicted, how much more is it commendableto help and succor one who is the daughter of a king, descended fromroyal lineage, and to whose blood we ourselves are related!' Andaccordingly he and your mother have their heads together yonder, planning an invasion of England, no less, and the dethronement of yourwicked father, my Edward. And accordingly--hail, King of England!" Thegirl clapped her hands gleefully. The nightingale sang. 

But the boy kept momentary silence. Not even in youth were the men ofhis race handicapped by excessively tender hearts; yesterday in theshrubbery the boy had kissed this daughter of Count William, in partbecause she was a healthy and handsome person, and partly becausegreat benefit might come of an alliance with her father. Well! thePrince had found chance-taking not unfortunate. With the episode asfoundation, Count William had already builded up the future queenshipof England. The strong Count could do--and, as it seemed, was now intrain to do--indomitable deeds to serve his son-in-law; and now thebeggar of five minutes since foresaw himself, with this girl's love asladder, mounting to the high habitations of the King of England, theLord of Ireland, and the Duke of Aquitaine. Thus they would heraldhim. 

So he embraced the girl. "Hail, Queen of England!" said the Prince;and then, "If I forget--" His voice broke awkwardly. "My dear, if everI forget--!" Their lips met now. The nightingale discoursed as if on awager. 

Presently was mingled with the bird's descant another kind of singing. Beyond the yew-hedge as these two stood silent, breast to breast, passed young Jehan Kuypelant, one of the pages, fitting to theaccompaniment of a lute his paraphrase of the song which Archilochusof Sicyon very anciently made in honor of Venus Melaenis, the tenderVenus of the Dark. 

At a gap in the hedge the young Brabanter paused. His singing ended, gulped. These two, who stood heart hammering against heart, saw for aninstant Jehan Kuypelant's lean face silvered by the moonlight, hismouth a tiny abyss. Followed the beat of lessening footfalls, whilethe nightingale improvised an envoi. 

But earlier Jehan Kuypelant also had sung, as though in rivalry withthe bird. 

Sang Jehan Kuypelant:

 "Hearken and heed, Melaenis! For all that the litany ceased When Time had pilfered the victim, And flouted thy pale-lipped priest, And set astir in the temple Where burned the fires of thy shrine The owls and wolves of the desert-- Yet hearken, (the issue is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!

 "For I have followed, nor faltered-- Adrift in a land of dreams Where laughter and pity and terror Commingle as confluent streams, I have seen and adored the Sidonian, Implacable, fair and divine-- And bending low, have implored thee To hearken, (the issue is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!"

It is time, however, that we quit this subject and speak of othermatters. Just twenty years later, on one August day in the year ofgrace 1346, Master John Copeland--as men now called Jehan Kuypelant, now secretary to the Queen of England, --brought his mistress theunhandsome tidings that David Bruce had invaded her realm with fortythousand Scots to back him. The Brabanter found plump Queen Philippawith the kingdom's arbitress--Dame Catherine de Salisbury, whom KingEdward, third of that name to reign in Britain, and now warring inFrance, very notoriously adored and obeyed. 

This king, indeed, had been despatched into France chiefly, theynarrate, to release the Countess' husband, William de Montacute, fromthe French prison of the Châtelet. You may appraise her dominion bythis fact: chaste and shrewd, she had denied all to King Edward, andin consequence he could deny her nothing; so she sent him to fetchback her husband, whom she almost loved. That armament had sailed fromSouthampton on Saint George's day. 

These two women, then, shared the Brabanter's execrable news. AlreadyNorthumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham were the broken meats of KingDavid. 

The Countess presently exclaimed: "Let them weep for this that must!My place is not here. "

Philippa said, half hopefully, "Do you forsake Sire Edward, Catherine?"

"Madame and Queen, " the Countess answered, "in this world every manmust scratch his own back. My lord has entrusted to me his castle ofWark, his fiefs in Northumberland. These, I hear, are being laidwaste. Were there a thousand men-at-arms left in England I would sayfight. As it is, our men are yonder in France and the island isdefenceless. Accordingly I ride for the north to make what terms I maywith the King of Scots. "

Now you might have seen the Queen's eye brighten. "Undoubtedly, " saidshe, "in her lord's absence it is the wife's part to defend hisbelongings. And my lord's fief is England. I bid you God-speed, Catherine. " And when the Countess was gone, Philippa turned, her roundface somewhat dazed and flushed. "She betrays him! she compounds withthe Scot! Mother of Christ, let me not fail!"

"A ship must be despatched to bid Sire Edward return, " said thesecretary. "Otherwise all England is lost. "

"Not so, John Copeland! We must let Sire Edward complete hisoverrunning of France, if such be the Trinity's will. You knowperfectly well that he has always had a fancy to conquer France; andif I bade him return now he would be vexed. "

"The disappointment of the King, " John Copeland considered, "is asmaller evil than allowing all of us to be butchered. "

"Not to me, John Copeland, " the Queen said. 

Now came many lords into the chamber, seeking Madame Philippa. "Wemust make peace with the Scottish rascal!--England is lost!--A shipmust be sent entreating succor of Sire Edward!" So they shouted. 

"Messieurs, " said Queen Philippa, "who commands here? Am I, then, somewoman of the town?"

Ensued a sudden silence. John Copeland, standing by the seawardwindow, had picked up a lute and was fingering the instrumenthalf-idly. Now the Marquess of Hastings stepped from the throng. "Pardon, Highness. But the occasion is urgent. "

"The occasion is very urgent, my lord, " the Queen assented, deep inmeditation. 

John Copeland flung back his head and without prelude began to carollustily. 

Sang John Copeland:

 "There are taller lads than Atys, And many are wiser than he, -- How should I heed them?--whose fate is Ever to serve and to be Ever the lover of Atys, And die that Atys may dine, Live if he need me--Then heed me, And speed me, (the moment is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!

 "Fair is the form unbeholden, And golden the glory of thee Whose voice is the voice of a vision Whose face is the foam of the sea, And the fall of whose feet is the flutter Of breezes in birches and pine, When thou drawest near me, to hear me, And cheer me, (the moment is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!"

I must tell you that the Queen shivered, as if with extreme cold. Shegazed toward John Copeland wonderingly. The secretary was fretting athis lutestrings, with his head downcast. Then in a while the Queenturned to Hastings. 

"The occasion is very urgent, my lord, " the Queen assented. "Thereforeit is my will that to-morrow one and all your men be mustered atBlackheath. We will take the field without delay against the King ofScots. "

The riot began anew. "Madness!" they shouted; "lunar madness! We cando nothing until our King returns with our army!"

"In his absence, " the Queen said, "I command here. "

"You are not Regent, " the Marquess answered. Then he cried, "This isthe Regent's affair!"

"Let the Regent be fetched, " Dame Philippa said, very quietly. Theybrought in her son, Messire Lionel, now a boy of eight years, and, inthe King's absence, Regent of England. 

Both the Queen and the Marquess held papers. "Highness, " Lord Hastingsbegan, "for reasons of state which I lack time to explain, thisdocument requires your signature. It is an order that a ship bedespatched to ask the King's return. Your Highness may remember thepony you admired yesterday?" The Marquess smiled ingratiatingly. "Justhere, your Highness--a crossmark. "

"The dappled one?" said the Regent; "and all for making a littlemark?" The boy jumped for the pen. 

"Lionel, " said the Queen, "you are Regent of England, but you are alsomy son. If you sign that paper you will beyond doubt get the pony, butyou will not, I think, care to ride him. You will not care to sit downat all, Lionel. "

The Regent considered. "Thank you very much, my lord, " he said in theultimate, "but I do not like ponies any more. Do I sign here, Mother?"

Philippa handed the Marquess a subscribed order to muster the Englishforces at Blackheath; then another, closing the English ports. "Mylords, " the Queen said, "this boy is the King's vicar. In defying him, you defy the King. Yes, Lionel, you have fairly earned a pot of jamfor supper. "

Then Hastings went away without speaking. That night assembled at hislodgings, by appointment, Viscount Heringaud, Adam Frere, the Marquessof Orme, Lord Stourton, the Earls of Neville and Gage, and Sir ThomasRokeby. These seven found a long table there littered with pens andparchment; to the rear of it, with a lackey behind him, sat theMarquess of Hastings, meditative over a cup of Bordeaux. 

Presently Hastings said: "My friends, in creating our womankind theMaker of us all was beyond doubt actuated by laudable and cogentreasons; so that I can merely lament my inability to fathom thesereasons. I shall obey the Queen faithfully, since if I did otherwiseSire Edward would have my head off within a day of his return. Inconsequence, I do not consider it convenient to oppose his vicar. To-morrow I shall assemble the tatters of troops which remain to us, and to-morrow we march northward to inevitable defeat. To-night I amsending a courier into Northumberland. He is an obliging person, andwould convey--to cite an instance--eight letters quite as blithely asone. "

Each man glanced furtively about. England was in a panic by this, andknew itself to lie before the Bruce defenceless. The all-powerfulCountess of Salisbury had compounded with King David; now Hastings, too, their generalissimo, compounded. What the devil! loyalty was asonorous word, and so was patriotism, but, after all, one had estatesin the north. 

The seven wrote in silence. I must tell you that when they had ended, Hastings gathered the letters into a heap, and without glancing at thesuperscriptures, handed all these letters to the attendant lackey. "For the courier, " he said. 

The fellow left the apartment. Presently you heard a departing clatterof hoofs, and Hastings rose. He was a gaunt, terrible old man, gray-bearded, and having high eyebrows that twitched and jerked. 

"We have saved our precious skins, " said he. "Hey, you fidgeters, youferments of sour offal! I commend your common-sense, messieurs, and Irequest you to withdraw. Even a damned rogue such as I has need of acleaner atmosphere in order to breathe comfortably. " The seven wentaway without further speech. 

They narrate that next day the troops marched for Durham, where theQueen took up her quarters. The Bruce had pillaged and burned his wayto a place called Beaurepair, within three miles of the city. He sentword to the Queen that if her men were willing to come forth from thetown he would abide and give them battle. 

She replied that she accepted his offer, and that the barons wouldgladly risk their lives for the realm of their lord the King. TheBruce grinned and kept silence, since he had in his pocket lettersfrom most of them protesting they would do nothing of the sort. 

Here is comedy. On one side you have a horde of half-naked savages, ashrewd master holding them in leash till the moment be auspicious; onthe other, a housewife at the head of a tiny force lieutenanted byperjurers, by men already purchased. God knows what dreams she had ofmiraculous victories, while her barons trafficked in secret with theBruce. It is recorded that, on the Saturday before Michaelmas, whenthe opposing armies marshalled in the Bishop's Park, at Auckland, nota captain on either side believed the day to be pregnant with battle. There would be a decent counterfeit of resistance; afterward thelittle English army would vanish pell-mell, and the Bruce would bemaster of the island. The farce was prearranged, the actors thereinwere letter-perfect. 

That morning at daybreak John Copeland came to the Queen's tent, andinformed her quite explicitly how matters stood. He had been drinkingovernight with Adam Frere and the Earl of Gage, and after the thirdbottle had found them candid. "Madame and Queen, we are betrayed. TheMarquess of Hastings, our commander, is inexplicably smitten with afever. He will not fight to-day. Not one of your lords will fightto-day. " Master Copeland laid bare such part of the scheme asyesterday's conviviality had made familiar. "Therefore I counselretreat. Let the King be summoned out of France. "

Queen Philippa shook her head, as she cut up squares of toast anddipped them in milk for the Regent's breakfast. "Sire Edward would bevexed. He has always wanted to conquer France. I shall visit theMarquess as soon as Lionel is fed, --do you know, John Copeland, I amanxious about Lionel; he is irritable and coughed five times duringthe night, --and then I will attend to this affair. "

She found the Marquess in bed, groaning, the coverlet pulled up to hischin. "Pardon, Highness, " said Lord Hastings, "but I am an ill man. Icannot rise from this couch. "

"I do not question the gravity of your disorder, " the Queen retorted, "since it is well known that the same illness brought about the deathof Iscariot. Nevertheless, I bid you get up and lead our troopsagainst the Scot. "

Now the hand of the Marquess veiled his countenance. "I am an illman, " he muttered, doggedly. "I cannot rise from this couch. "

There was a silence. 

"My lord, " the Queen presently began, "without is an armyprepared--yes, and quite able--to defend our England. The onerequirement of this army is a leader. Afford them that, my lord--ah, Iknow that our peers are sold to the Bruce, yet our yeomen at least arehonest. Give them, then, a leader, and they cannot but conquer, sinceGod also is honest and incorruptible. Pardieu! a woman might leadthese men, and lead them to victory!"

Hastings answered: "I am ill. I cannot rise from this couch. "

"There is no man left in England, " said the Queen, "since Sire Edwardwent into France. Praise God, I am his wife!" She went away withoutflurry. 

Through the tent-flap Hastings beheld all that which followed. TheEnglish force was marshalled in four divisions, each commanded by abishop and a baron. You could see the men fidgeting, puzzled by thedelay; as a wind goes about a corn-field, vague rumors were goingabout those wavering spears. Toward them rode Philippa, upon a whitepalfrey, alone and perfectly tranquil. Her eight lieutenants were nowgathered about her in voluble protestation, and she heard them out. Afterward she spoke, without any particular violence, as one mightorder a strange cur from his room. Then the Queen rode on, as thoughthese eight declaiming persons had ceased to be of interest. Shereined up before her standard-bearer, and took the standard in herhand. She began again to speak, and immediately the army was in anuproar; the barons were clustering behind her, in stealthy groups oftwo or three whisperers each; all were in the greatest amazement andknew not what to do; but the army was shouting the Queen's name. 

"Now is England shamed, " said Hastings, "since a woman alone dares toencounter the Scot. She will lead them into battle--and by God! thereis no braver person under heaven than yonder Dutch Frau! Friend David, I perceive that your venture is lost, for those men would follow herto storm hell if she desired it. "

He meditated, and shrugged. "And so would I, " said Hastings. 

A little afterward a gaunt and haggard old man, bareheaded and veryhastily dressed, reined his horse by the Queen's side. "Madame andQueen, " said Hastings, "I rejoice that my recent illness is departed. I shall, by God's grace, on this day drive the Bruce from England. "

Philippa was not given to verbiage. Doubtless she had her emotions, but none was visible upon the honest face. She rested one plump handupon the big-veined hand of Hastings. That was all. "I welcome backthe gallant gentleman of yesterday. I was about to lead your army, myfriend, since there was no one else to do it, but I was hideouslyafraid. At bottom every woman is a coward. "

"You were afraid to do it, " said the Marquess, "but you were going todo it, because there was no one else to do it! Ho, madame! had I anarmy of such cowards I would drive the Scot not past the Border butbeyond the Orkneys. "

The Queen then said, "But you are unarmed. "

"Highness, " he replied, "it is surely apparent that I, who have playedthe traitor to two monarchs within the same day, cannot with eitherdecency or comfort survive that day. " He turned upon the lords andbishops twittering about his horse's tail. "You merchandise, get backto your stations, and if there was ever an honest woman in any of yourfamilies, the which I doubt, contrive to get yourselves killed thisday, as I mean to do, in the cause of the honestest and bravest womanour time has known. " Immediately the English forces marched towardMerrington. 

Philippa returned to her pavilion and inquired for John Copeland. Shewas informed that he had ridden off, armed, in company with five ofher immediate retainers. She considered this strange, but made nocomment. 

You picture her, perhaps, as spending the morning in prayer, inbeatings upon her breast, and in lamentations. Philippa did nothing ofthe sort. She considered her cause to be so clamantly just that toexpatiate to the Holy Father upon its merits would be an impertinence;it was not conceivable that He would fail her; and in any event, shehad in hand a deal of sewing which required immediate attention. Accordingly she settled down to her needlework, while the Regent ofEngland leaned his head against her knee, and his mother told him thatageless tale of Lord Huon, who in a wood near Babylon encountered theKing of Faëry, and subsequently bereaved an atrocious Emir of hisbeard and daughter. All this the industrious woman narrated in a lowand pleasant voice, while the wide-eyed Regent attended and at theproper intervals gulped his cough-mixture. 

You must know that about noon Master John Copeland came into the tent. "We have conquered, " he said. "Now, by the Face!"--thus, scoffingly, he used her husband's favorite oath, --"now, by the Face! there wasnever a victory more complete! The Scottish army is fled, it is asutterly dispersed from man's seeing as are the sands which dried theletters King Ahasuerus gave the admirable Esther!"

"I rejoice, " the Queen said, looking up from her sewing, "that we haveconquered, though in nature I expected nothing else--Oh, horrible!"She sprang to her feet with a cry of anguish. Here in little you havethe entire woman; the victory of her armament was to her a thing ofcourse, since her cause was just, whereas the loss of two front teethby John Copeland was a calamity. 

He drew her toward the tent-flap, which he opened. Without was amounted knight, in full panoply, his arms bound behind him, surroundedby the Queen's five retainers. "In the rout I took him, " said JohnCopeland; "though, as my mouth witnesses, I did not find this DavidBruce a tractable prisoner. "

"Is that, then, the King of Scots?" Philippa demanded, as she mixedsalt and water for a mouthwash. "Sire Edward should be pleased, Ithink. Will he not love me a little now, John Copeland?"

John Copeland lifted both plump hands toward his lips. "He could notchoose, " John Copeland said; "madame, he could no more choose but loveyou than I could choose. "

Philippa sighed. Afterward she bade John Copeland rinse his gums andthen take his prisoner to Hastings. He told her the Marquess was dead, slain by the Knight of Liddesdale. "That is a pity, " the Queen said. She reflected a while, reached her decision. "There is left alive inEngland but one man to whom I dare entrust the keeping of the King ofScots. My barons are sold to him; if I retain Messire David by me, oneor another lord will engineer his escape within the week, and SireEdward will be vexed. Yet listen, John--" She unfolded her plan. 

"I have long known, " he said, when she had done, "that in all theworld there was no lady more lovable. Twenty years I have loved you, my Queen, and yet it is only to-day I perceive that in all the worldthere is no lady more wise than you. "

Philippa touched his cheek, maternally. "Foolish boy! You tell me theKing of Scots has an arrow-wound in his nose? I think a bread poulticewould be best. " She told him how to make this poultice, and gave otherinstructions. Then John Copeland left the tent and presently rode awaywith his company. 

Philippa saw that the Regent had his dinner, and afterward mounted herwhite palfrey and set out for the battle-field. There the Earl ofNeville, as second in command, received her with great courtesy. Godhad shown to her Majesty's servants most singular favor: despite thecalculations of reasonable men, --to which, she might remember, he hadthat morning taken the liberty to assent, --some fifteen thousand Scotswere slain. True, her gallant general was no longer extant, thoughthis was scarcely astounding when one considered the fact that he hadvoluntarily entered the mêlée quite unarmed. A touch of age, perhaps;Hastings was always an eccentric man: in any event, as epilogue, thisNeville congratulated the Queen that--by blind luck, he was forced toconcede, --her worthy secretary had made a prisoner of the ScottishKing. Doubtless, Master Copeland was an estimable scribe, and yet--Ah, yes, Lord Neville quite followed her Majesty--beyond doubt, thewardage of a king was an honor not lightly to be conferred. Oh, yes, he understood; her Majesty desired that the office should be givensome person of rank. And pardie! her Majesty was in the right. Eh?said the Earl of Neville. 

Intently gazing into the man's shallow eyes, Philippa assented. MasterCopeland had acted unwarrantably in riding off with his captive. Lethim be sought at once. She dictated to Neville's secretary a letter, which informed John Copeland that he had done what was not agreeablein purloining her prisoner. Let him without delay deliver the King toher good friend the Earl of Neville. 

To Neville this was satisfactory, since he intended that once in hispossession David Bruce should escape forthwith. The letter, I repeat, suited this smirking gentleman in its tiniest syllable, and the singledifficulty was to convey it to John Copeland, for as to hiswhereabouts neither Neville nor any one else had the least notion. 

This was immaterial, however, for they narrate that next day a lettersigned with John Copeland's name was found pinned to the front ofNeville's tent. I cite a passage therefrom: "I will not give up myroyal prisoner to a woman or a child, but only to my own lord, SireEdward, for to him I have sworn allegiance, and not to any woman. Yetyou may tell the Queen she may depend on my taking excellent care ofKing David. I have poulticed his nose, as she directed. "

Here was a nonplus, not without its comical side. Two great realms hadmet in battle, and the king of one of them had vanished like asoap-bubble. Philippa was in a rage, --you could see that both by herdemeanor and by the indignant letters she dictated; true, none ofthese letters could be delivered, since they were all addressed toJohn Copeland. Meanwhile, Scotland was in despair, whereas the traitorEnglish barons were in a frenzy, because they did not know what hadbecome of their fatal letters to the Bruce, or of him either. Thecircumstances were unique, and they remained unchanged for threefeverish weeks. 

We will now return to affairs in France, where on the day of theNativity, as night gathered about Calais, John Copeland cameunheralded to the quarters of King Edward, then besieging that city. Master Copeland entreated audience, and got it readily enough, sincethere was no man alive whom Sire Edward more cordially desired to layhis fingers upon. 

A page brought Master Copeland to the King, that stupendous, blond andincredibly big person. With Sire Edward were that careful Italian, Almerigo di Pavia, who afterward betrayed Sire Edward, and a leansoldier whom Master Copeland recognized as John Chandos. These threewere drawing up an account of the recent victory at Créçi, to beforwarded to all mayors and sheriffs in England, with a cogentpostscript as to the King's incidental and immediate need of money. 

Now King Edward sat leaning far back in his chair, a hand on eitherhip, and with his eyes narrowing as he regarded Master Copeland. Hadthe Brabanter flinched, the King would probably have hanged him withinthe next ten minutes; finding his gaze unwavering, the King waspleased. Here was a novelty; most people blinked quite honestly underthe scrutiny of those fierce big eyes, which were blue and cold and ofan astounding lustre. The lid of the left eye drooped a little: thiswas Count Manuel's legacy, they whispered. 

The King rose with a jerk and took John Copeland's hand. "Ha!" hegrunted, "I welcome the squire who by his valor has captured the Kingof Scots. And now, my man, what have you done with Davie?"

John Copeland answered: "Highness, you may find him at yourconvenience safely locked in Bamborough Castle. Meanwhile, I entreatyou, sire, do not take it amiss if I did not surrender King David tothe orders of my lady Queen, for I hold my lands of you, and not ofher, and my oath is to you, and not to her, unless indeed by choice. "

"John, " the King sternly replied, "the loyal service you have done usis considerable, whereas your excuse for kidnapping Davie is a farce. Hey, Almerigo, do you and Chandos avoid the chamber! I have somethingin private with this fellow. " When they had gone, the King sat downand composedly said, "Now tell me the truth, John Copeland. "

"Sire, " Copeland began, "it is necessary you first understand I bear aletter from Madame Philippa--"

"Then read it, " said the King. "Heart of God! have I an eternity towaste on you slow-dealing Brabanters!"

John Copeland read aloud, while the King trifled with a pen, halfnegligent, and in part attendant. 

Read John Copeland:

"My DEAR LORD, --_recommend me to your lordship with soul and body andall my poor might, and with all this I thank you, as my dear lord, dearest and best beloved of all earthly lords I protest to me, andthank you, my dear lord, with all this as I say before. Yourcomfortable letter came to me on Saint Gregory's day, and I was neverso glad as when I heard by your letter that ye were strong enough inPonthieu by the grace of God for to keep you from your enemies. Amongthem I estimate Madame Catherine de Salisbury, who would have betrayedyou to the Scot. And, dear lord, if it be pleasing to your highlordship that as soon as ye may that I might hear of your graciousspeed, which may God Almighty continue and increase, I shall be glad, and also if ye do continue each night to chafe your feet with a rag ofwoollen stuff, as your physician directed. And, my dear lord, if itlike you for to know of my fare, John Copeland will acquaint youconcerning the Bruce his capture, and the syrup he brings for our sonLord Edward's cough, and the great malice-workers in these shireswhich would have so despitefully wrought to you, and of the manner oftaking it after each meal. I am lately informed that Madame Catherineis now at Stirling with Robert Stewart and has lost all her good looksthrough a fever. God is invariably gracious to His servants. Farewell, my dear lord, and may the Holy Trinity keep you from your adversariesand ever send me comfortable tidings of you. Written at York, in theCastle, on Saint Gregory's day last past, by your own poor_

"PHILIPPA. 

_"To my true lord. "_

"H'm!" said the King; "and now give me the entire story. "

John Copeland obeyed. I must tell you that early in the narrative KingEdward arose and strode toward a window. "Catherine!" he said. Heremained motionless while Master Copeland went on without any manifestemotion. When he had ended, King Edward said, "And where is Madame deSalisbury now?"

At this the Brabanter went mad. As a leopard springs he leaped uponthe King, and grasping him by each shoulder, shook that monarch as onepunishing a child. 

"Now by the splendor of God--!" King Edward began, very terrible inhis wrath. He saw that John Copeland held a dagger to his breast, andhe shrugged. "Well, my man, you perceive I am defenceless. "

"First you will hear me out, " John Copeland said. 

"It would appear, " the King retorted, "that I have little choice. "

At this time John Copeland began: "Sire, you are the mightiest monarchyour race has known. England is yours, France is yours, conqueredScotland lies prostrate at your feet. To-day there is no other man inall the world who possesses a tithe of your glory; yet twenty yearsago Madame Philippa first beheld you and loved you, an outcast, anexiled, empty-pocketed prince. Twenty years ago the love of MadamePhilippa, great Count William's daughter, got for you the armamentwith which England was regained. Twenty years ago but for MadamePhilippa you had died naked in some ditch. "

"Go on, " the King said presently. 

"Afterward you took a fancy to reign in France. You learned then thatwe Brabanters are a frugal people: Madame Philippa was wealthy whenshe married you, and twenty years had quadrupled her private fortune. She gave you every penny of it that you might fit out this expedition;now her very crown is in pawn at Ghent. In fine, the love of MadamePhilippa gave you France as lightly as one might bestow a toy upon achild who whined for it. "

The King fiercely said, "Go on. "

"Eh, sire, I intend to. You left England undefended that you mightposture a little in the eyes of Europe. And meanwhile a womanpreserves England, a woman gives you Scotland as a gift, and in returnasks nothing--God have mercy on us!--save that you nightly chafe yourfeet with a bit of woollen. You hear of it--and inquire, '_Where isMadame de Salisbury?_' Here beyond doubt is the cock of Aesop'sfable, " snarled John Copeland, "who unearthed a gem and grumbled thathis diamond was not a grain of corn. "

"You shall be hanged at dawn, " the King replied. "Meanwhile spit outyour venom. "

"I say to you, then, " John Copeland continued, "that to-day you aremaster of Europe. I say to you that, but for this woman whom fortwenty years you have neglected, you would to-day be mouldering in somepauper's grave. Eh, without question, you most magnanimously lovedthat shrew of Salisbury! because you fancied the color of her eyes, Sire Edward, and admired the angle between her nose and her forehead. Minstrels unborn will sing of this great love of yours. Meantime I sayto you"--now the man's rage was monstrous--"I say to you, go home toyour too-tedious wife, the source of all your glory! sit at her feet!and let her teach you what love is!" He flung away the dagger. "Thereyou have the truth. Now summon your attendants, my très beau sire, andhave me hanged. "

The King made no movement. "You have been bold--" he said at last. 

"But you have been far bolder, sire. For twenty years you have daredto flout that love which is God's noblest heritage to His children. "

King Edward sat in meditation for a long while. The squinting of hisleft eye was now very noticeable. "I consider my wife's clerk, " hedrily said, "to discourse of love in somewhat too much the tone of alover. " And a flush was his reward. 

But when this Copeland spoke he was like one transfigured. His voicewas grave and very tender, and he said:

"As the fish have their life in the waters, so I have and always shallhave mine in love. Love made me choose and dare to emulate a lady, long ago, through whom I live contented, without expecting any othergood. Her purity is so inestimable that I cannot say whether I derivemore pride or sorrow from its preeminence. She does not love me, andshe will never love me. She would condemn me to be hewed in fragmentssooner than permit her husband's finger to be injured. Yet shesurpasses all others so utterly that I would rather hunger in herpresence than enjoy from another all which a lover can devise. "

Sire Edward stroked the table through this while, with an invertedpen. He cleared his throat. He said, half-fretfully:

"Now, by the Face! it is not given every man to love precisely in thistroubadourish fashion. Even the most generous person cannot render tolove any more than that person happens to possess. I have read in anold tale how the devil sat upon a cathedral spire and white doves flewabout him. Monks came and told him to begone. 'Do not the spires showyou, O son of darkness' they clamored, 'that the place is holy?' AndSatan (in this old tale) replied that these spires were capable ofvarious interpretations. I speak of symbols, John. Yet I also haveloved, in my own fashion, --and, it would seem, I win the same rewardas you. "

The King said more lately: "And so she is at Stirling now? hobnob withmy armed enemies, and cajoling that red lecher Robert Stewart?" Helaughed, not overpleasantly. "Eh, yes, it needed a bold person tobring all your tidings! But you Brabanters are a very thorough-goingpeople. "

The King rose and flung back his high head. "John, the loyal serviceyou have done us and our esteem for your valor are so great that theymay well serve you as an excuse. May shame fall on those who bear youany ill-will! You will now return home, and take your prisoner, theKing of Scotland, and deliver him to my wife, to do with as she mayelect. You will convey to her my entreaty--not my orders, John, --thatshe come to me here at Calais. As remuneration for this evening'sinsolence, I assign lands as near your house as you can choose them tothe value of £500 a year for you and for your heirs. "

You must know that John Copeland fell upon his knees before KingEdward. "Sire--" he stammered. 

But the King raised him. "No, no, " he said, "you are the better man. Were there any equity in fate, John Copeland, your lady had loved you, not me. As it is, I must strive to prove not altogether unworthy of myfortune. But I make no large promises, " he added, squinting horribly, "because the most generous person cannot render to love any more thanthat person happens to possess. So be off with you, JohnCopeland, --go, my squire, and bring me back my Queen!"

Presently he heard John Copeland singing without. And through thatinstant, they say, his youth returned to Edward Plantagenet, and allthe scents and shadows and faint sounds of Valenciennes on thatancient night when a tall girl came to him, running, stumbling in herhaste to bring him kingship. "She waddles now, " he thought forlornly. "Still, I am blessed. " But Copeland sang, and the Brabanter's heartwas big with joy. 

Sang John Copeland:

 "Long I besought thee, nor vainly, Daughter of Water and Air-- Charis! Idalia! Hortensis! Hast thou not heard the prayer, When the blood stood still with loving, And the blood in me leapt like wine, And I cried on thy name, Melaenis?-- That heard me, (the glory is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!

 "Falsely they tell of thy dying, Thou that art older than Death, And never the Hörselberg hid thee, Whatever the slanderer saith, For the stars are as heralds forerunning, When laughter and love combine At twilight, in thy light, Melaenis-- That heard me, (the glory is thine!) And let the heart of Atys, At last, at last, be mine!"

THE END OF THE FIFTH NOVEL

VI

THE STORY OF THE SATRAPS

 "Je suis voix au désert criant Que chascun soyt rectifiant La voye de Sauveur; non suis, Et accomplir je ne le puis. "

THE SIXTH NOVEL. --ANNE OF BOHEMIA HAS ONE SOLE FRIEND, AND BY HIMPLAYS THE FRIEND'S PART; AND IN DOING SO ACHIEVES THEIR COMMONANGUISH, AS WELL AS THE CONFUSION OF STATECRAFT AND THE POULTICING OFA GREAT DISEASE. 

_The Story of the Satraps_

In the year of grace 1381 (Nicolas begins) was Dame Anne magnificentlyfetched from remote Bohemia, and at Westminster married to SireRichard, the second monarch of that name to reign in England. Thisking, I must tell you, had succeeded while he was yet an infant, tothe throne of his grandfather, the third King Edward, about whom Ihave told you in the story preceding this. 

Queen Anne had presently noted a certain priest who went forbiddinglyabout her court, where he was accorded a provisional courtesy, and whowent also into many hovels, where pitiable wrecks of humankindreceived his alms and ministrations. 

Queen Anne made inquiries. This young cleric was amanuensis to theDuke of Gloucester, she learned, and was notoriously a by-blow of theDuke's brother, dead Lionel of Clarence. She sent for this EdwardMaudelain. When he came her first perception was, "How wonderful ishis likeness to the King!" while the thought's commentary ran, unacknowledged, "Yes, as an eagle resembles a falcon!" For here, tothe observant eye, was a more zealous person, already passion-wasted, and a far more dictatorial and stiff-necked person than the lazy andamiable King; also, this Maudelain's face and nose were somewhat toolong and high: the priest was, in a word, the less comely of the pairby a very little, and to an immeasurable extent the more kinglike. 

"You are my cousin now, messire, " the Queen told him, and innocentlyoffered to his lips her own. 

He never moved; but their glances crossed, and for that instant shesaw the face of a man who has just stepped into a quicksand. She grewred, without knowing why. Then he spoke, composedly, of trivialmatters. 

Thus began the Queen's acquaintance with Edward Maudelain. She was bythis time the loneliest woman in the island. Her husband granted her abright and fresh perfection of form and color, but desiderated anyappetizing tang, and lamented, in his phrase, a certain kinship to theimpeccable loveliness of some female saint in a jaunty tapestry;bright as ice in sunshine, just so her beauty chilled you, hecomplained: moreover, this daughter of the Caesars had been fetchedinto England, chiefly, to breed him children, and this she had neverdone. Undoubtedly he had made a bad bargain, --he was too easy-going, people presumed upon it. His barons snatched their cue and esteemedDame Anne to be negligible; whereas the clergy, finding that sheobstinately read the Scriptures in the vulgar tongue, under theirrelevant plea of not comprehending Latin, began to denounce her fromtheir pulpits as a heretic and as the evil woman prophesied byEzekiel. 

It was the nature of this desolate child to crave affection, as anecessary, and pitifully she tried to purchase it through almsgiving. In the attempt she could have found no coadjutor more ready thanEdward Maudelain. Giving was with these two a sort of obsession, though always he gave in a half scorn of his fellow creatures whichwas not more than half concealed. This bastard was charitable andpious because he knew his soul, conceived in double sin, to be doublyevil, and therefore doubly in need of redemption through good works. 

Now in and about the Queen's lonely rooms the woman and the priest metdaily to discuss now this or that point of theology, or now (to cite asingle instance) Gammer Tudway's obstinate sciatica. Consideratepersons found something of the pathetic in their preoccupation bythese matters while, so clamantly, the dissension between the youngKing and his uncles gathered to a head. The King's uncles meant tocontinue governing England, with the King as their ward, as long asthey could; he meant to relieve himself of this guardianship, and themof their heads, as soon as he was able. War seemed inevitable, the airwas thick with portents; and was this, then, an appropriate time, thejudicious demanded of high Heaven, for the Queen of imperilled Englandto concern herself about a peasant's toothache?

Long afterward was Edward Maudelain to remember this quiet and amiableperiod of his life, and to wonder over the man that he had beenthrough this queer while. Embittered and suspicious she had found him, noted for the carping tongue he lacked both power and inclination tobridle; and she had, against his nature, made Maudelain see that everyperson is at bottom lovable, and that human vices are but the stainsof a traveller midway in a dusty journey; and had incited the priestno longer to do good for his soul's health, but simply for hisfellow's benefit. 

In place of that monstrous passion which had at first view of herpossessed the priest, now, like a sheltered taper, glowed an adorationwhich made him yearn, in defiance of common-sense, to suffer somehowfor this beautiful and gracious comrade; though very often pity forher loneliness and knowledge that she dared trust no one save himwould throttle Maudelain like two assassins, and would move thehot-blooded young man to a rapture of self-contempt and exultation. 

Now Maudelain made excellent songs, it was a matter of common report. Yet but once in their close friendship did the Queen command him tomake a song for her. This had been at Dover, about vespers, in thestarved and tiny garden overlooking the English Channel, upon whichher apartments faced; and the priest had fingered his lute for anappreciable while before he sang, more harshly than was his custom. 

Sang Maudelain:

 "Ave Maria! now cry we so That see night wake and daylight go. 

 "Mother and Maid, in nothing incomplete, This night that gathers is more light and fleet Than twilight trod alway with stumbling feet, Agentes semper uno animo. 

 "Ever we touch the prize we dare not take! Ever we know that thirst we dare not slake! Yet ever to a dreamed-of goal we make-- Est tui coeli in palatio!

 "Long, long the road, and set with many a snare; And to how small sure knowledge are we heir That blindly tread, with twilight everywhere! Volo in toto; sed non valeo!

 "Long, long the road, and very frail are we That may not lightly curb mortality, Nor lightly tread together steadfastly, Et parvum carmen unum facio:

 "Mater, ora filium, Ut post hoc exilium Nobis donet gaudium Beatorum omnium!"

Dame Anne had risen. She said nothing. She stayed in this posture fora lengthy while, one hand yet clasping each breast. Then she laughed, and began to speak of Long Simon's recent fever. Was there no methodof establishing him in another cottage? No, the priest said, thepeasants, like the cattle, were always deeded with the land, and Simoncould not lawfully be taken away from his owner. 

One day, about the hour of prime, in that season of the year whenfields smell of young grass, the Duke of Gloucester sent for EdwardMaudelain. The court was then at Windsor. The priest came quickly tohis patron. He found the Duke in company with the King's other uncleEdmund of York and bland Harry of Derby, who was John of Gaunt'soldest son, and in consequence the King's cousin. Each was a proud andhandsome man: Derby alone (who was afterward King of England) hadinherited the squint that distinguished this family. To-day Gloucesterwas gnawing at his finger nails, big York seemed half-asleep, and theEarl of Derby appeared patiently to await something as yet ineffablyremote. 

"Sit down!" snarled Gloucester. His lean and evil countenance was thatof a tired devil. The priest obeyed, wondering that so high an honorshould be accorded him in the view of three great noblemen. ThenGloucester said, in his sharp way: "Edward, you know, as Englandknows, the King's intention toward us three and our adherents. It hascome to our demolishment or his. I confess a preference in the matter. I have consulted with the Pope concerning the advisability of takingthe crown into my own hands. Edmund here does not want it, and mybrother John is already achieving one in Spain. Eh, in imagination Iwas already King of England, and I had dreamed--Well! to-day theprosaic courier arrived. Urban--the Neapolitan swine!--dares give meno assistance. It is decreed I shall never reign in these islands. AndI had dreamed--Meanwhile, de Vere and de la Pole are at the King dayand night, urging revolt. As matters go, within a week or two, thethree heads before you will be embellishing Temple Bar. You, ofcourse, they will only hang. "

"We must avoid England, then, my noble patron, " the priest considered. 

Angrily the Duke struck a clenched fist upon the table. "By the Cross!we remain in England, you and I and all of us. Others avoid. The Popeand the Emperor will have none of me. They plead for the BlackPrince's heir, for the legitimate heir. Dompnedex! they shall havehim!"

Maudelain recoiled, for he thought this twitching man insane. 

"Besides, the King intends to take from me my fief at Sudbury, " saidthe Duke of York, "in order to give it to de Vere. That is both absurdand monstrous and abominable. "

Openly Gloucester sneered. "Listen!" he rapped out toward Maudelain;"when they were drawing up the Great Peace at Brétigny, it happened, as is notorious, that the Black Prince, my brother, wooed in this townthe Demoiselle Alixe Riczi, whom in the outcome he abducted. It is notso generally known, however, that, finding this sister of the Vicomtede Montbrison a girl of obdurate virtue, my brother had prefaced theaction by marriage. "

"And what have I to do with all this?" said Edward Maudelain. 

Gloucester retorted: "More than you think. For this Alixe was conveyedto Chertsey, here in England, where at the year's end she died inchildbirth. A little before this time had Sir Thomas Holland seen hislast day, --the husband of that Joane of Kent whom throughout life mybrother loved most marvellously. The disposition of the lateQueen-Mother is tolerably well known. I make no comment save that toher moulding my brother was as so much wax. In fine, the two loverswere presently married, and their son reigns to-day in England. Theabandoned son of Alixe Riczi was reared by the Cistercians atChertsey, where some years ago I found you. "

He spoke with a stifled voice, wrenching forth each sentence; and nowwith a stiff forefinger flipped a paper across the table. "_Inextremis_ my brother did more than confess. He signed, --your Majesty, "said Gloucester. The Duke on a sudden flung out his hands, like awizard whose necromancy fails, and the palms were bloodied where hisnails had cut the flesh. 

"Moreover, my daughter was born at Sudbury, " said the Duke of York. 

And of Maudelain's face I cannot tell you. He made pretence to readthe paper carefully, but his eyes roved, and he knew that he stoodamong wolves. The room was oddly shaped, with eight equal sides: theceiling was of a light and brilliant blue, powdered with many goldenstars, and the walls were hung with smart tapestries whichcommemorated the exploits of Theseus. "Then I am King, " this Maudelainsaid aloud, "of France and England, and Lord of Ireland, and Duke ofAquitaine! I perceive that Heaven loves a jest. " He wheeled uponGloucester and spoke with singular irrelevance, "And what is to bedone with the present Queen?"

Again the Duke shrugged. "I had not thought of the dumb wench. We havemany convents. "

Now Maudelain twisted the paper between his long, wet fingers andappeared to meditate. 

"It would be advisable, your Grace, " observed the Earl of Derby, suavely, and breaking his silence for the first time, "that youyourself should wed Dame Anne, once the Apostolic See has granted thenecessary dispensation. Treading too close upon the fighting requisiteto bring about the dethronement and death of our nominal lord theso-called King, a war with Bohemia, which would be only too apt tofollow this noble lady's assassination, would be highly inconvenient, and, lacking that, we would have to pay back her dowry. "

Then these three princes rose and knelt before the priest; they wereclad in long bright garments, and they glittered with gold and manyjewels. He standing among them shuddered in his sombre robe. "Hail, King of England!" cried these three. 

"Hail, ye that are my kinsmen!" he answered; "hail, ye that spring ofan accursed race, as I! And woe to England for that hour whereinManuel of Poictesme held traffic with the Sorceress of Provence, andthe devil's son begot an heir for England! Of ice and of lust and ofhell-fire are all we sprung; old records attest it; and fickle andcold and ravenous and without shame are all our race until the end. Ofyour brother's dishonor ye make merchandise to-day, and to-dayfratricide whispers me, and leers, and, Heaven help me! I attend. OGod of Gods! wilt Thou dare bid a man live stainless, having aforetimefilled his veins with such a venom? Then haro, will I cry from Thydeepest hell. . . . Oh, now let the adulterous Redeemer of Poictesmerejoice in his tall fires, to note that his descendants know of whatwood to make a crutch! You are very wise, my kinsmen. Take yourmeasures, messieurs who are my kinsmen! Though were I of any otherrace, with what expedition would I now kill you, I that recognizewithin me the strength to do it! Then would I slay you! without anyanimosity, would I slay you then, just as I would kill as manysplendid snakes!"

He went away, laughing horribly. Gloucester drummed upon the table, his brows contracted. But the lean Duke said nothing; big York seemedto drowse; and Henry of Derby smiled as he sounded a gong for thatscribe who would draw up the necessary letters. The Earl's time wasnot yet come, but it was nearing. 

In the antechamber the priest encountered two men-at-arms dragging adead body from the castle. The Duke of Kent, Maudelain was informed, had taken a fancy to a peasant girl, and in remonstrance her misguidedfather had actually tugged at his Grace's sleeve. 

Maudelain went into the park of Windsor, where he walked for a longwhile alone. It was a fine day in the middle spring; and now he seemedto understand for the first time how fair was his England. For allEngland was his fief, held in vassalage to God and to no man alive, his heart now sang; allwhither his empire spread, opulent in grain andmetal and every revenue of the earth, and in stalwart men (hischattels), and in strong orderly cities, where the windows would beadorned with scarlet hangings, and women (with golden hair and red laxlips) would presently admire as King Edward rode slowly by at the headof a resplendent retinue. And always the King would bow, graciouslyand without haste, to his shouting people. . . . He laughed to findhimself already at rehearsal of the gesture. 

It was strange, though, that in this glorious fief of his so manypersons should, as yet, live day by day as cattle live, suspicious ofall other moving things (with reason), and roused from their incuriousand filthy apathy only when some glittering baron, like a resistlesseagle, swept uncomfortably near as he passed on some by-errand of themore bright and windy upper-world. East and north they had goneyearly, for so many centuries, these dumb peasants, to fight out theirmaster's uncomprehended quarrel, and to manure with their carcassesthe soil of France and of Scotland. Give these serfs a king, now, who(being absolute), might dare to deal in perfect equity with rich andpoor, who with his advent would bring Peace into England as his bride, as Trygaeus did very anciently in Athens--"And then, " the priestparaphrased, "may England recover all the blessings she has lost, andeverywhere the glitter of active steel will cease. " For everywhere menwould crack a rustic jest or two, unhurriedly. Virid fields wouldheave brownly under their ploughs; they would find that with practiceit was almost as easy to chuckle as it was to cringe. 

Meanwhile on every side the nobles tyrannized in their degree, wellclothed and nourished, but at bottom equally comfortless in condition. As illuminate by lightning Maudelain saw the many factions of hisbarons squabbling for gross pleasures, like wolves over a corpse, andblindly dealing death to one another to secure at least one moredelicious gulp before that inevitable mangling by the teeth of someburlier colleague. The complete misery of England showed beforeMaudelain like a winter landscape. The thing was questionless. He musttread henceforward without fear among frenzied beasts, and to theirultimate welfare. On a sudden Maudelain knew himself to be invincibleand fine, and hesitancy ebbed. 

True, Richard, poor fool, must die. Squarely the priest faced thatstark and hideous circumstance; to spare Richard was beyond his power, and the boy was his brother; yes, this oncoming King Edward would be afratricide, and after death would be irrevocably damned. To burn, andeternally to burn, and, worst of all, to know that the torment waseternal! ay, it would be hard; but, at the cost of Richard's ignoblelife and of Edward's inconsiderable soul, to win so many men tomanhood was not a bargain to be refused. 

The tale tells that Maudelain went toward the little garden whichadjoined Dame Anne's apartments. He found the Queen there, alone, asnowadays she was for the most part, and he paused to wonder at herbright and singular beauty. How vaguely odd was this beauty, hereflected, too; how alien in its effect to that of any other woman insturdy England, and how associable it was, somehow, with every wildand gracious denizen of the woods which blossomed yonder. 

In this place the world was all sunlight, temperate but undiluted. They had met in a wide, unshaded plot of grass, too short to ripple, which everywhere glowed steadily, like a gem. Right and left, birdssang as if in a contest. The sky was cloudless, a faint and radiantblue throughout, save where the sun stayed as yet in the zenith, sothat the Queen's brows cast honey-colored shadows upon either cheek. The priest was greatly troubled by the proud and heatlessbrilliancies, the shrill joys, of every object within the radius ofhis senses. 

She was splendidly clothed, in a kirtle of very bright green, tintedlike the verdancy of young ferns in sunlight, and wore over all a gownof white, cut open on each side as far as the hips. This garment wasembroidered with golden leopards and was trimmed with ermine. Abouther yellow hair was a chaplet of gold, wherein emeralds glowed. Herblue eyes were as large and shining and changeable (he thought) as twooceans in midsummer; and Maudelain stood motionless and seemed tohimself but to revere, as the Earl Ixion did, some bright unstablewisp of cloud, while somehow all elation departed from him as waterdoes from a wetted sponge compressed. He laughed discordantly. 

"Wait--! O my only friend--!" said Maudelain. Then in a level voice hetold her all, unhurriedly and without any apparent emotion. 

She had breathed once, with a deep inhalation. She had screened hercountenance from his gaze the while you might have counted fifty. Presently she said: "This means more war, for de Vere and Tressilianand de la Pole and Bramber and others of the barons know that theKing's fall signifies their ruin. Many thousands die to-morrow. "

He answered, "It means a war which will make me King of England, andwill make you my wife. "

"In that war the nobles will ride abroad with banners and gaysurcoats, and will kill and ravish in the pauses of their songs; whiledaily in that war the naked peasants will kill the one the other, without knowing why. "

His thought had forerun hers. "Yes, some must die, so that in the endI may be King, and the general happiness may rest at my disposal. Theadventure of this world is wonderful, and it goes otherwise than underthe strict tutelage of reason. "

"It would not be yours, but Gloucester's and his barons'. Friend, theywould set you on the throne to be their puppet and to move only asthey pulled the strings. Thwart them in their maraudings and they willfling you aside, as the barons have pulled down every king that daredoppose them. No, they desire to live pleasantly, to have fish onFridays, and white bread and the finest wine the whole year through, and there is not enough for all, say they. Can you alone contendagainst them? and conquer them? for not unless you can do this may Idare bid you reign. "

The sun had grown too bright, too merciless, but as always she drewthe truth from him. "I could not venture to oppose in anything thebarons who supported my cause: for if I did, I would not endure afortnight. Heaven help us, nor you nor I nor any one may transformthrough any personal force this bitter world, this piercing, cruelplace of frost and sun. Charity and Truth are excommunicate, and aking is only an adorned and fearful person who leads wolves towardtheir quarry, lest, lacking it, they turn and devour him. Everywherethe powerful labor to put one another out of worship, and each tostand the higher with the other's corpse as his pedestal; and Lecheryand Greed and Hatred sway these proud and inconsiderate fools as windsblow at will the gay leaves of autumn. We walk among shining vapors, we aspire to overpass a mountain of unstable sparkling sand! We twoalone in all the scuffling world! Oh, it is horrible, and I think thatSatan plans the jest! We dream for a while of refashioning this brightdesolation, and know that we alone can do it! we are as demigods, youand I, in those gallant dreams! and at the end we can but poulticesome dirty rascal!"

The Queen answered sadly: "Once and only once did God tread thistangible world, for a very little while, and, look you, to whattrivial matters He devoted that brief space! Only to chat withfishermen, and to talk with light women, and to consort with rascals, and at last to die between two cutpurses, ignominiously! If ChristHimself achieved so little that seemed great and admirable, how shouldwe two hope to do any more?"

He answered: "It is true. Of anise and of cumin the Master gets Histithe--" Maudelain broke off with a yapping laugh. "Puf! Heaven iswiser than we. I am King of England. It is my heritage. "

"It means war. Many will die, thousands will die, and to no bettermentof affairs. "

"I am King of England. I am Heaven's satrap here, and answerable toHeaven alone. It is my heritage. " And now his large and cruel eyeswere aflame as he regarded her. 

And visibly beneath their glare the woman changed. "My friend, must Inot love you any longer? You would be content with happiness? Then Iam jealous of that happiness! for you are the one friend that I havehad, and so dear to me--Look you!" she said, with a light, wistfullaugh, "there have been times when I was afraid of everything youtouched, and I hated everything you looked at. I would not have youstained; I desired to pass my whole life between the four walls ofsome dingy and eternal gaol, forever alone with you, lest you becomelike other men. I would in that period have been the very bread youeat, the least perfume which delights you, the clod you touch incrushing it, and I have often loathed some pleasure I derived fromlife because I might not transfer it to you undiminished. For I wantedsomehow to make you happy to my own anguish. . . . It was wicked, Isuppose, for the imagining of it made me happy, too. "

Now while he listened to this dear and tranquil speaking, EdwardMaudelain's raised hands had fallen like so much lead, and rememberinghis own nature, he longed for annihilation, before she had appraisedhis vileness. He said:

"With reason Augustine crieth out against the lust of the eyes. 'Forpleasure seeketh objects beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savory, andsoft; but this disease those contrary as well, not for the sake ofsuffering annoyance, but out of the lust of making trial of them!' Ah!ah! too curiously I planned my own damnation, too presumptuously I hadesteemed my soul a worthy scapegoat, and I had gilded my enormity withmany lies. Yet indeed, indeed, I had believed brave things, I hadplanned a not ignoble bargain--! Ey, say, is it not laughable, madame?--as my birth-right Heaven accords me a penny, and with thatonly penny I must presently be seeking to bribe Heaven. "

Then he said: "Yet are we indeed God's satraps, as but now I cried inmy vainglory, and we hold within our palms the destiny of manypeoples. Depardieux! God is wiser than we are. Still, Satan offers nounhandsome bribes--bribes that are tangible and sure. For Satan, too, is wiser than we are. "

They stood like effigies, lit by the broad, unsparing splendor of themorning, but again their kindling eyes had met, and again the manshuddered. "Decide! oh, decide very quickly, my only friend!" he said, "for throughout I am all filth!"

Closer she drew to him, and laid one hand upon each shoulder. "O myonly friend!" she breathed, with red lax lips which were very near tohis, "through these six years I have ranked your friendship as thechief of all my honors! and I pray God with an entire heart that I maydie so soon as I have done what I must do to-day!"

Now Maudelain was trying to smile, but he could not quite manage it. "God save King Richard!" said the priest. "For by the cowardice andgreed and ignorance of little men is Salomon himself confounded, andby them is Hercules lightly unhorsed. Were I Leviathan, whose boneswere long ago picked clean by pismires, I could perform nothingagainst the will of many human pismires. Therefore do you pronounce mydoom. "

"O King, " then said Dame Anne, "I bid you go forever from the courtand live forever a landless man, friendless, and without even anyname. Otherwise, you can in no way escape being made an instrument tobring about the misery and death of many thousands. This doom I dareadjudge and to pronounce, because we are royal and God's satraps, youand I. "

Twice or thrice his dry lips moved before he spoke. He was aware ofinnumerable birds that carolled with a piercing and intolerablesweetness. "O Queen!" he hoarsely said, "O fellow satrap! Heaven hasmany fiefs. A fair province is wasted and accords to Heaven norevenue. So wastes beauty, and a shrewd wit, and an illimitablecharity, which of their pride go in fetters and achieve no increase. To-day the young King junkets with his flatterers, and but rarelythinks of England. You have that beauty by which men are lightlyconquered, and the mere sight of which may well cause a man's voice totremble as my voice trembles now, and through desire of which--But Itread afield! Of that beauty you have made no profit. O daughter ofthe Caesars, I bid you now gird either loin for an unlovely traffic. Old Legion must be fought with fire. True that the age is sick, truethat we may not cure, we can but salve the hurt--" His hand had tornopen his sombre gown, and the man's bared breast shone in thesunlight, and on his breast heaved sleek and glittering beads ofsweat. Twice he cried the Queen's name. In a while he said: "I bid youweave incessantly such snares of brain and body as may lure KingRichard to be swayed by you, until against his will you daily guidethis shallow-hearted fool to some commendable action. I bid you liveas other folk do hereabouts. Coax! beg! cheat! wheedle! lie!" hebarked like a teased dog, "and play the prostitute for him that wearsmy crown, till you achieve in part the task which is denied me. Thisdoom I dare adjudge and to pronounce, because we are royal and God'ssatraps, you and I. "

She answered with a tiny, wordless sound. But presently, "I take mydoom, " the Queen proudly said. "I shall be lonely now, my only friend, and yet--it does not matter, " the Queen said, with a little shiver. "No, nothing will ever greatly matter now, I think, now that I may notever see you any more, my dearest. "

Her eyes had filled with tears; she was unhappy, and, as always, thisknowledge roused in Maudelain a sort of frenzied pity and a hatred, quite illogical, of all other things existent. She was unhappy, thatonly he comprehended: and for her to be made unhappy was unjust. 

So he stood thus for an appreciable silence, staying motionless savethat behind his back his fingers were bruising one another. Everywherewas this or that bright color and an incessant melody. It wasunbearable. Then it was over; the ordered progress of all happeningswas apparent, simple, and natural; and contentment came into his heartlike a flight of linnets over level fields at dawn. He left her, andas he went he sang. 

Sang Maudelain:

 "Christ save us all, as well He can, A solis ortus cardine! For He is both God and man, Qui natus est de virgine, And we but part of His wide plan That sing, and heartily sing we, 'Gloria Tibi, Domine!'

 "Between a heifer and an ass Enixa est puerpera; In ragged woollen clad He was Qui régnât super aethera, And patiently may we then pass That sing, and heartily sing we, 'Gloria Tibi, Domine!'"

The Queen shivered in the glad sunlight. "I am, it must be, pitiablyweak, " she said at last, "because I cannot sing as he does. And, sinceI am not very wise, were he to return even now--But he will notreturn. He will never return, " the Queen repeated, carefully. "It isstrange I cannot comprehend that he will never return! Ah, Mother ofGod!" she cried, with a steadier voice, "grant that I may weep! nay, of thy infinite mercy let me presently find the heart to weep!" Andabout the Queen of England many birds sang joyously. 

She sent for the King that evening, after supper, and they may wellhave talked of many matters, for he did not return to his ownapartments that night. Next day the English barons held a council, andin the midst of it King Richard demanded to be told his age. 

"Your Grace is in your twenty-second year, " said the uneasyGloucester, who was now with reason troubled, since he had been vainlyseeking everywhere for the evanished Maudelain. 

"Then I have been under tutors and governors longer than any otherward in my dominion. My lords, I thank you for your past services, butI need them no more. " They had no check handy, and Gloucester inparticular foreread his death-warrant, but of necessity he shoutedwith the others, "Hail, King of England!"

That afternoon the King's assumption of all royal responsibility wascommemorated by a tournament, over which Dame Anne presided. Sixty ofher ladies led as many knights by silver chains into thetilting-grounds at Smithfield, and it was remarked that the Queenappeared unusually mirthful. The King was in high good humor, apattern of conjugal devotion; and the royal pair retired at dusk tothe Bishop of London's palace at Saint Paul's, where was held a merrybanquet, with dancing both before and after supper. 

THE END OF THE SIXTH NOVEL

VII

THE STORY OF THE HERITAGE

 "Pour vous je suis en prison mise, En ceste chambre à voulte grise, Et traineray ma triste vie Sans que jamais mon cueur varie, Car toujours seray vostre amye. "

THE SEVENTH NOVEL. --ISABEL OF VALOIS, BEING FORSAKEN BY ALL OTHERS, ISBEFRIENDED BY A PRIEST, WHO IN CHIEF THROUGH A CHILD'S INNOCENCE, CONTRIVES AND EXECUTES A LAUDABLE IMPOSTURE, AND WINS THEREBY TODEATH. 

_The Story of the Heritage_

In the year of grace 1399 (Nicolas begins) dwelt in a hut near CaerDathyl in Arvon, as he had dwelt for some five years, a gaunt hermit, notoriously consecrate, whom neighboring Welshmen revered as theBlessed Evrawc. There had been a time when people called him EdwardMaudelain, but this period he dared not often remember. 

For though in macerations of the flesh, in fasting, and in hour-longprayers he spent his days, this holy man was much troubled by devils. He got little rest because of them. Sometimes would come into his hutBelphegor in the likeness of a butler, and whisper, "Sire, had youbeen King, as was your right, you had drunk to-day not water but thewines of Spain and Hungary. " Or Asmodeus saying, "Sire, had you beenKing, as was your right, you had lain now not upon the bare earth buton cushions of silk. "

One day in early spring, they say, the spirit called Orvendile sentthe likeness of a fair woman with yellow hair and large blue eyes. Shewore a massive crown which seemed too heavy for her frailness tosustain. Soft tranquil eyes had lifted from her book. "You are mycousin now, messire, " this phantom had appeared to say. 

That was the worst, and Maudelain began to fear he was a little madbecause even this he had resisted with many aves. 

There came also to his hut, through a sullen snowstorm, upon theafternoon of All Soul's day, a horseman in a long cloak of black. Hetethered his black horse and he came noiselessly through the doorwayof the hut, and upon his breast and shoulders the snow was white asthe bleached bones of those women that died in Merlin's youth. 

"Greetings in God's name, Messire Edward Maudelain, " the strangersaid. 

Since the new-comer spoke intrepidly of holy things a cheerierMaudelain knew that this at least was no demon. "Greetings!" heanswered. "But I am Evrawc. You name a man long dead. "

"But it is from a certain Bohemian woman I come. What matter, then, ifthe dead receive me?" And thus speaking, the stranger dropped hiscloak. 

He was clad, as you now saw, in flame-colored satin, which shimmeredwith each movement like a high flame. He had the appearance of a tall, lean youngster, with crisp, curling, very dark red hair. He nowregarded Maudelain. He displayed peculiarly wide-set brown eyes; andtheir gaze was tender, and the tears somehow had come to Maudelain'seyes because of his great love for this tall stranger. "Eh, from thedead to the dead I travel, as ever, " said the new-comer, "with amessage and a token. My message runs, _Time is, O fellow satrap!_ andmy token is this. "

In this packet, wrapped with white parchment and tied with a goldencord, was only a lock of hair. It lay like a little yellow serpent inMaudelain's palm. "And yet five years ago, " he mused, "this hair wasturned to dust. God keep us all!" Then he saw the tall lean emissarypuffed out like a candle-flame; and upon the floor he saw the huddledcloak waver and spread like ink, and he saw the white parchment slowlydwindle, as snow melts under the open sun. But in his hand remainedthe lock of yellow hair. 

"O my only friend, " said Maudelain, "I may not comprehend, but I knowthat by no unhallowed art have you won back to me. " Hair by hair hescattered upon the floor that which he held. "_Time is!_ and I havenot need of any token to spur my memory. " He prized up a corner of thehearthstone, took out a small leather bag, and that day purchased ahorse and a sword. 

At dawn the Blessed Evrawc rode eastward in secular apparel. Two weekslater he came to Sunninghill; and it happened that the same morningthe Earl of Salisbury, who had excellent reason to consider . . . 

_Follows a lacuna of fourteen pages. Maudelain's successful impostureof his half-brother, Richard the Second, so strangely favored by theirphysical resemblance, and the subsequent fiasco at Circencester, arenow, however, tolerably well known to students of history. _

_In one way or another, Maudelain contrived to take the place of hisnow dethroned brother, and therewith also the punishment designed forRichard. It would seem evident, from the Argument of the story inhand, that Nicolas de Caen attributes a large part of this mysteriousbusiness to the co-operancy of Isabel of Valois, King Richard's elevenyear old wife. And (should one have a taste for the deductive) theforegoing name of Orvendile, when compared with "THE STORY OF THESCABBARD, " would certainly hint that Owain Glyndwyr had a finger inthe affair. _

_It is impossible to divine by what method, according to Nicolas, thisEdward Maudelain was substituted for his younger brother. Nicolas, ifyou are to believe his "EPILOGUE, " had the best of reasons for knowingthat the prisoner locked up in Pontefract Castle in the February of1400, after Harry of Derby had seized the crown of England, was notRichard Plantagenet: as is attested, also, by the remaining fragmentof this same_ "STORY OF THE HERITAGE. "

. . . And eight men-at-arms followed him. 

Quickly Maudelain rose from the table, pushing his tall chair aside, and as he did this, one of the soldiers closed the door securely. "Nay, eat your fill, Sire Richard, " said Piers Exton, "since you willnot ever eat again. "

"Is it so?" the trapped man answered quietly. "Then indeed you come ina good hour. " Once only he smote upon his breast. "_Mea culpa!_ OEternal Father, do Thou shrive me very quickly of all those sins Ihave committed, both in thought and deed, for now the time is veryshort. "

And Exton spat upon the dusty floor. "Foh, they had told me I wouldfind a king here. I discover only a cat that whines. "

"Then 'ware his claws!" As a viper leaps Maudelain sprang upon thenearest fellow and wrested away his halberd. "Then 'ware his claws, mymen! For I come of an accursed race. And now let some of you lamentthat hour wherein the devil's son begot an heir for England! For ofice and of lust and of hell-fire are all we sprung; old records attestit; and fickle and cold and ravenous and without fear are all our raceuntil the end. Hah, until the end! O God of Gods!" this Maudelaincried, with a great voice, "wilt Thou dare bid a man die patiently, having aforetime filled his veins with such a venom? For I lack thegrace to die as all Thy saints have died, without one carnal blowstruck in my own defence. I lack the grace, my Father, for even at thelast the devil's blood You gave me is not quelled. I dare atone forthat old sin done by my father in the flesh, but yet I must atone asbefits the race of Oriander!"

Then it was he and not they who pressed to the attack. Their meetingwas a bloody business, for in that dark and crowded room Maudelainraged among his nine antagonists like an angered lion among wolves. 

They struck at random and cursed shrilly, for they were nowhalf-afraid of this prey they had entrapped; so that presently he wasall hacked and bleeding, though as yet he had no mortal wound. Four ofthese men he had killed by this time, and Piers Exton also lay at hisfeet. 

Then the other four drew back a little. "Are ye tired so soon?" saidMaudelain, and he laughed terribly. "What, even you! Why, look ye, mybold veterans, I never killed before to-day, and I am not breathed asyet. "

Thus he boasted, exultant in his strength. But the other men saw thatbehind him Piers Exton had crawled into the chair from which (theythought) King Richard had just risen, and they saw Exton standingerect in this chair, with both arms raised. They saw this Exton strikethe King with his pole-axe, from behind, once only, and they knew nomore was needed. 

"By God!" said one of them in the ensuing stillness, and it was he whobled the most, "that was a felon's blow. "

But the dying man who lay before them made as though to smile. "Icharge you all to witness, " he faintly said, "how willingly I renderto Caesar's daughter that which was ever hers. "

Then Exton fretted, as if with a little trace of shame: "Who wouldhave thought the rascal had remembered that first wife of his so long?Caesar's daughter, saith he! and dares in extremis to pervert HolyScripture like any Wycliffite! Well, he is as dead as that firstCaesar now, and our gracious King, I think, will sleep the better forit. And yet--God only knows! for they are an odd race, even as hesaid--these men that have old Manuel's blood in them. "

THE END OF THE SEVENTH NOVEL

VIII

THE STORY OF THE SCABBARD

 "Ainsi il avait trouvé sa mie Si belle qu'on put souhaiter. N'avoit cure d'ailleurs plaider, Fors qu'avec lui manoir et estre. Bien est Amour puissant et maistre. "

THE EIGHTH NOVEL. --BRANWEN OF WALES GETS A KING'S LOVE UNWITTINGLY, AND IN ALL INNOCENCE CONVINCES HIM OF THE LITTLENESS OF HIS KINGDOM;SO THAT HE BESIEGES AND IN DUE COURSE OCCUPIES ANOTHER REALM AS YETUNMAPPED. 

_The Story of the Scabbard_

In the year of grace 1400 (Nicolas begins) King Richard, the secondmonarch of that name to rule in England, wrenched his own existence, and nothing more, from the close wiles of his cousin, Harry of Derby, who was now sometimes called Henry of Lancaster, and sometimesBolingbroke. The circumstances of this evasion having been recorded inthe preceding tale, it suffices here to record that this Henry waspresently crowned King of England in Richard's place. All persons, saving only Owain Glyndwyr and Henry of Lancaster, believed KingRichard dead at that period when Richard attended his own funeral, asa proceeding taking to the fancy, and, among many others, saw the bodyof Edward Maudelain interred with every regal ceremony in the chapelat Langley Bower. Then alone Sire Richard crossed the seas, and atthirty-three set out to inspect a transformed and gratefullyuntrammelling world wherein not a foot of land belonged to him. 

Holland was the surname he assumed, the name of his half-brothers; andto detail his Asian wanderings would be tedious and unprofitable. Butat the end of each four months would come to him a certain messengerfrom Glyndwyr, supposed by Richard to be the imp Orvendile, whonotoriously ran every day around the world upon the Welshman'sbusiness. It was in the Isle of Taprobane, where the pismires are asgreat as hounds, and mine and store the gold of which the inhabitantsafterward rob them through a very cunning device, that this emissarybrought the letter which read simply, "Now is England fit pasture forthe White Hart. " Presently Richard Holland was in Wales, and then herode to Sycharth. 

There, after salutation, Glyndwyr gave an account of his longstewardship. It was a puzzling record of obscure and tirelessmachinations with which we have no immediate concern: in brief, thebarons who had ousted King Log had been the very first to find theirsquinting King Stork intolerable; and Northumberland, Worcester, Douglas, Mortimer, and so on, were already pledged and in open revolt. "By the God I do not altogether serve, " Owain ended, "you have but todeclare yourself, sire, and within the moment England is yours. "

Richard spoke with narrowed eyes. "You forget that while Henry ofLancaster lives no other man can ever hope to reign tranquilly inthese islands. Come then! the hour strikes; and we will coax the devilfor once in a way to serve God. "

"Oh, but there is a boundary appointed, " Glyndwyr moodily returned. "You, too, forget that in cold blood this Henry stabbed my best-lovedson. But I do not forget this, and I have tried divers methods whichwe need not speak of, --I who can at will corrupt the air, and causesickness and storms, raise heavy mists, and create plagues and firesand shipwrecks; yet the life itself I cannot take. For there is aboundary appointed, sire, and beyond that frontier the Master of ourSabbaths cannot serve us even though he would. "

Richard crossed himself. "You horribly mistake my meaning. Yourpractices are your own affair, and in them I decline to dabble. Imerely design to trap a tiger with his appropriate bait. For you havea fief at Caer Idion, I think?--Very well! I intend to herd your sheepthere, for a week or two, after the honorable example of Apollo. It isyour part to see that Henry knows I am living disguised anddefenceless at Caer Idion. "

The gaunt Welshman chuckled. "Yes, squinting Henry of Lancaster wouldcross the world, much less the Severn, to make quite sure of Richard'sdeath. He would come in his own person with at most some twentytrustworthy followers. I will have a hundred there; and certain agingscores will then be settled in that place. " Glyndwyr meditatedafterward, very evilly. "Sire, " he said without prelude, "I do notrecognize Richard of Bordeaux. You have garnered much in travelling!"

"Why, look you, " Richard returned, "I have garnered so much that I donot greatly care whether this scheme succeed or no. With age I beginto contend even more indomitably that a wise man will consider nothingvery seriously. You barons here believe it an affair of importance whomay chance to be the King of England, say, this time next year; youtake sides between Henry and me. I tell you frankly that neither ofus, that no man in the world, by reason of innate limitations, canever rule otherwise than abominably, or, ruling, can create anythingsave discord. Nor can I see how this matters either, since thediscomfort of an ant-village is not, after all, a planet-wreckingdisaster. No, Owain, if the planets do indeed sing together, it is, depend upon it, to the burden of _Fools All_. For I am as liberallyendowed as most people; and when I consider my abilities, myperformances, my instincts, and so on, quite aloofly, as I wouldappraise those of another person, I can only shrug: and to conceivethat common-sense, much less Omnipotence, would ever concern itselfabout the actions of a creature so entirely futile is, to me at least, impossible. "

"I have known the thought, " said Owain, --"though rarely since I foundthe Englishwoman that was afterward my wife, and never since my son, my Gruffyd, was murdered by a jesting man. He was more like me thanthe others, people said. . . . You are as yet the empty scabbard, powerless alike for help or hurt. Ey, hate or love must be the sword, sire, that informs us here, and then, if only for a little while, weare as gods. "

"Pardie! I have loved as often as Salomon, and in fourteen kingdoms. "

"We of Cymry have a saying, sire, that when a man loves par amours thesecond time he may safely assume that he has never been in love atall. "

"--And I hate Henry of Lancaster as I do the devil. "

"I greatly fear, " said Owain with a sigh, "lest it may be yourirreparable malady to hate nothing, not even that which you dislike. No, you consider things with both eyes open, with an unmanlyrationality: whereas Sire Henry views all matters with that heroicsquint which came into your family from Poictesme. "

"Be off with your dusty scandals!" said Richard, laughing. 

So then Glyndwyr rode south to besiege and burn the town of Caerdyf, while at Caer Idion Richard Holland abode tranquilly for some threeweeks. There was in this place only Caradawc (the former shepherd), his wife Alundyne, and their sole daughter Branwen. They gladlyperceived Sire Richard was no more a peasant than he was a curmudgeon;as Caradawc observed: "It is perfectly apparent that the robe ofPadarn Beisrudd, which refuses to adjust itself to any save highbornpersons, would fit him as a glove does the hand; but we will ask noquestions, since it is not wholesome to dispute the orderings of OwainGlyndwyr. "

Now day by day would Richard Holland drive the flocks to pasture nearthe Severn, and loll there in the shade, and make songs to his lute. He grew to love this leisured life of bright and open spaces; and itslong solitudes, grateful with the warm odors of growing things andwith poignant bird-noises; and the tranquillity of these meadows, thatwere always void of hurry, bedrugged the man through many fruitlessand contented hours. 

Each day at noon Branwen would bring his dinner, and she wouldsometimes chat with him while he ate. After supper he would discourseto Branwen of remote kingdoms, through which, as aimlessly as a windveers, he had ridden at adventure, among sedate and alien peoples whoadjudged him a madman; and she, in turn, would tell him curious talesfrom the _Red Book of Hergest_, --telling of Gwalchmai, and Peredur, and Geraint, in each one of which fine heroes she had presentlydiscerned an inadequate forerunnership of Richard's existence. 

This Branwen was a fair wench, slender and hardy. She had the bolddemeanor of a child who is ignorant of evil and in consequence ofsuspicion. Happily, though, had she been named for that unhappy ladyof old, the wife of King Matholwch, for this Branwen, too, had awhite, thin, wistful face, like that of an empress on a silver coinwhich is a little worn. Her eyes were large and brilliant, coloredlike clear emeralds, and her abundant hair was so much cornfloss, onlyit was more brightly yellow and was of immeasurably finer texture. Infull sunlight her cheeks were frosted like the surface of a peach, butthe underlying cool pink of them was rather that of a cloud just aftersunset, Richard decided. In all, a taking morsel! though her shapelyhands were hard with labor, and she rarely laughed; for, as if inrecompense, her heart was tender, and she rarely ceased to smile asthough she were thinking of some peculiar and wonderful secret whichshe intended, in due time, to share with you and with nobody else. Branwen had many lovers, and preferred among them young Gwyllem apLlyr, a portly lad, who was handsome enough, though he had tiny andpiggish eyes, and who sang divinely. 

One day this Gwyllem came to Richard with two quarter-staves. "Saxon, "he said, "you appear a stout man. Take your pick of these, then, andhave at you. "

"Such are not the weapons I would have named, " Richard answered: "yetin reason, Messire Gwyllem, I can deny you nothing that means nothingto me. "

With that they laid aside their coats and fell to exercise. In theseunaccustomed bouts Richard was soundly drubbed, as he had anticipated, but he found himself the stronger man of the two, and he managedsomehow to avoid an absolute overthrow. By what method he contrivedthis he never ascertained. 

"I have forgotten what we are fighting about, " he observed, after tenminutes of heroic thumps and hangings; "or, to be perfectly exact, Inever knew. But we will fight no more in this place. Come and go withme to Welshpool, Messire Gwyllem, and there we will fight to aconclusion over good sack and claret. "

"Content!" cried Gwyllem; "but only if you yield me Branwen. "

"Have we indeed wasted a whole half-hour in squabbling over a woman?"Richard demanded; "like two children in a worldwide toyshop over anyone particular toy? Then devil take me if I am not heartily ashamed ofmy folly! Though, look you, Gwyllem, I would speak naught savecommendation of these delicate and livelily-tinted creatures so longas one is able to approach them in a becoming spirit of levity: it isonly their not infrequent misuse which I would condemn; and in myopinion the person who elects to build a shrine for any one of themhas only himself to blame if his chosen goddess will accept noburnt-offering except his honor and happiness. Yet since time's youthhave many fine men been addicted to this insane practice, as, forexample, were Hercules and Merlin to their illimitable sorrow; and, indeed, the more I reconsider the old gallantries of Salomon, and ofother venerable and sagacious potentates, the more profoundly am Iashamed of my sex. "

Gwyllem said: "This lazy gabbling of yours is all very fine. Perhapsit is also reasonable. Only when you love you do not reason. "

"I was endeavoring to prove that, " said Richard gently. Then they wentto Welshpool, ride and tie on Gwyllem's horse. Tongue loosened by theclaret, Gwyllem raved aloud of Branwen, like a babbling faun, while toeach rapture Richard affably assented. In his heart he likened the boyto Dionysos at Naxos, and could find no blame for Ariadne. Moreover, the room was comfortably dark and cool, for thick vines hung about thewindows, rustling and tapping pleasantly, and Richard was content. 

"She does not love me?" Gwyllem cried. "It is well enough. I do notcome to her as one merchant to another, since love was never bartered. Listen, Saxon!" He caught up Richard's lute. The strings shriekedbeneath Gwyllem's fingers as he fashioned his rude song. 

Sang Gwyllem:

 "Love me or love me not, it is enough That I have loved you, seeing my whole life is Uplifted and made glad by the glory of Love, -- My life that was a scroll bescrawled and blurred With tavern-catches, which that pity of his Erased, and wrote instead one lonely word, O Branwen!

 "I have accorded you incessant praise And song and service, dear, because of this; And always I have dreamed incessantly Who always dreamed, when in oncoming days This man or that shall love you, and at last This man or that shall win you, it must be That, loving him, you will have pity on me When happiness engenders memory And long thoughts, nor unkindly, of the past, O Branwen!

 "Of this I know not surely, who am sure That I shall always love you while I live, And that, when I am dead, with naught to give Of song or service, Love will yet endure, And yet retain his last prerogative, When I lie still, and sleep out centuries, With dreams of you and the exceeding love I bore you, and am glad dreaming thereof, And give God thanks for all, and so find peace, O Branwen!"

"Now, were I to get as tipsy as that, " Richard enviously thought, midway in a return to his stolid sheep, "I would simply go to sleepand wake up with a headache. And were I to fall as many fathoms deepin love as this Gwyllem ventures, or, rather, as he hurls himself witha splurge, I would perform--I wonder, now, what miracle?"

For he was, though vaguely, discontent. This Gwyllem was so young, soearnest over every trifle, and above all, was so untroubled byforethought: each least desire controlled him, as varying winds sportwith a fallen leaf, whose frank submission to superior vagaries theboy appeared to emulate. Richard saw that in a fashion Gwyllem wassuperb. "And heigho!" said Richard, "I am attestedly a greater foolthan he, but I begin to weary of a folly so thin-blooded. "

The next morning came a ragged man, riding upon a mule. He declaredhimself a tinker. He chatted out an hour with Richard, who perfectlyrecognized him as Sir Walter Blount; and then this tinker crossed overinto England. 

Richard whistled. "Now my cousin will be quite sure, and now myanxious cousin will come to speak with Richard of Bordeaux. And now, by every saint in the calendar! I am as good as King of England. "

He sat down beneath a young oak and twisted four or five blades ofgrass between his fingers while he meditated. Undoubtedly he wouldkill this squinting Henry of Lancaster with a clear conscience andeven with a certain relish, much as one crushes the uglier sort ofvermin, but, hand upon heart, Richard was unable to avow anyparticularly ardent desire for the scoundrel's death. Thus crudely todemolish the knave's adroit and year-long schemings savored actuallyof grossness. The spider was venomous, and his destruction laudable;granted, but in crushing him you ruined his web, a miracle of patientmachination, which, despite yourself, compelled hearty admiring andenvy. True, the process would recrown a certain Richard, but then, asRichard recalled it, being King was rather tedious. Richard was notnow quite sure that he wanted to be King, and, in consequence, bedaily plagued by a host of vexatious and ever-squabbling barons. "Ishall miss the little huzzy, too, " he thought. 

"Heigho!" said Richard, "I shall console myself with purchasing allbeautiful things that can be touched and handled. Life is a flimsyvapor which passes and is not any more: presently Branwen will bemarried to this Gwyllem and will be grown fat and old, and I shall beremarried to little Dame Isabel, and shall be King of England: and atrifle later all four of us shall be dead. Pending this deplorableconsummation a wise man will endeavor to amuse himself. "

Next day he despatched Caradawc to Owain Glyndwyr to bid the lattersend the promised implements to Caer Idion. Richard, returning to thehut the same evening, found Alundyne there, alone, and grovelling atthe threshold. Her forehead was bloodied when she raised it andthrough tearless sobs told of what had happened. A half-hour earlier, while she and Branwen were intent upon their milking, Gwyllem hadridden up, somewhat the worse for liquor. Branwen had called him sot, had bidden him go home. "That I will do, " said Gwyllem and suddenlycaught up the girl. Alundyne sprang for him, and with clenched fistGwyllem struck her twice full in the face, and laughing, rode awaywith Branwen. 

Richard made no observation. In silence he fetched his horse, and didnot pause to saddle it. Quickly he rode to Gwyllem's house, and brokein the door. Against the farther wall stood lithe Branwen fightingsilently: her breasts and shoulders were naked, where Gwyllem had tornaway her garments. He wheedled, laughed, swore, and hiccoughed, turnby turn, but she was silent. 

"On guard!" Richard barked. Gwyllem wheeled. His head twisted towardhis left shoulder, and one corner of his mouth convulsively snappedupward, so that his teeth were bared. There was a knife at Richard'sgirdle, which he now unsheathed and flung away. He stepped eagerlytoward the snarling Welshman, and with both hands seized the thick andhairy throat. What followed was brutal. 

For many minutes Branwen stood with averted face, shuddering. She verydimly heard the sound of Gwyllem's impotent fists as they beat againstthe countenance and body of Richard, and heard the thin splittingvicious noise of torn cloth as Gwyllem clutched at Richard's tunic andtore it many times. Richard did not utter any articulate word, andGwyllem could not. There was entire silence for a heart-beat, and thethudding fall of something ponderous and limp. 

"Come!" Richard said then. Through the hut's twilight he came, asglorious in her eyes as Michael fresh from that primal battle with oldSatan. Tall Richard came to her, his face all blood, and lifted her inhis arms lest Branwen's skirt be soiled by the demolished thing whichsprawled across their path. She never spoke. She could not speak. Inhis arms she rode homeward, passive, and content. The horse trod withdeliberation. In the east the young moon was taking heart as thedarkness thickened, and innumerable stars awoke. Branwen noted thesethings incuriously. 

Richard was horribly afraid. He it had been, in sober verity it hadbeen Richard of Bordeaux, that some monstrous force had seized, andhad lifted, and had curtly utilized as its handiest implement. He hadbeen, and in the moment had known himself to be, the thrown spear asyet in air, about to kill and quite powerless to refrain from killing. It was a full three minutes before he had got the better of hisbewilderment and laughed, very softly, lest he disturb this Branwen, who was so near his heart. . . . 

Next day she came to him at noon, bearing as always the little basket. It contained to-day a napkin, some garlic, a ham, and a small softcheese; some shalots, salt, nuts, wild apples, lettuce, onions, andmushrooms. "Behold a feast!" said Richard. He noted then that shecarried also a blue pitcher filled with thin wine, and two cups ofoak-bark. She thanked him for last night's performance, and drank amouthful of wine to his health. 

"Decidedly, I shall be sorry to have done with shepherding, " saidRichard as he ate. 

Branwen answered, "I too shall be sorry, lord, when the masquerade isended. " And it seemed to Richard that she sighed, and he was thehappier. 

But he only shrugged. "I am the wisest person unhanged, since Icomprehend my own folly. Yet I grant you that he was wise, too, theminstrel of old time that sang: 'Over wild lands and tumbling seasflits Love, at will, and maddens the heart and beguiles the senses ofall whom he attacks, whether his quarry be some monster of the oceanor some fierce denizen of the forest, or man; for thine, O Love, thinealone is the power to make playthings of us all. '"

"Your bard was wise, no doubt, yet it was not in such terms thatGwyllem sang of this passion. Lord, " she demanded shyly, "how wouldyou sing of love?"

Richard was replete and contented with the world. He took up the lute, in full consciousness that his compliance was in large part cenatory. "In courtesy, thus--"

Sang Richard:

 "The gods in honor of fair Branwen's worth Bore gifts to her:--and Jove, Olympus' lord, Co-rule of Earth and Heaven did accord, And Hermes brought that lyre he framed at birth, And Venus her famed girdle (to engirth A fairer beauty now), and Mars his sword, And wrinkled Plutus half the secret hoard And immemorial treasure of mid-earth;--

 "And while the careful gods were pondering Which of these goodly gifts the goodliest was, Young Cupid came among them carolling And proffered unto her a looking-glass, Wherein she gazed, and saw the goodliest thing That Earth had borne, and Heaven might not surpass. "

"Three sounds are rarely heard, " said Branwen; "and these are the songof the birds of Rhiannon, an invitation to feast with a miser, and aspeech of wisdom from the mouth of a Saxon. The song you have made ofcourtesy is tinsel. Sing now in verity. "

Richard laughed, though he was sensibly nettled and perhaps a shadeabashed. Presently he sang again. 

Sang Richard:

 "Catullus might have made of words that seek With rippling sound, in soft recurrent ways, The perfect song, or in remoter days Theocritus have hymned you in glad Greek; But I am not as they, --and dare not speak Of you unworthily, and dare not praise Perfection with imperfect roundelays, And desecrate the prize I dare to seek. 

 "I do not woo you, then, by fashioning Vext analogues 'twixt you and Guenevere, Nor do I come with agile lips that bring The sugared periods of a sonneteer, And bring no more--but just with, lips that cling To yours, in murmuring, 'I love you, dear!'"

Richard had resolved that Branwen should believe him. Tinsel, indeed!then here was yet more tinsel which she must receive as gold. He wasvery angry, because his vanity was hurt, and the pin-prick spurred himto a counterfeit so specious that consciously he gloried in it. He wassuperb, and she believed him now; there was no questioning the fact, he saw it plainly, and with exultant cruelty; then curt as lightningcame the knowledge that what Branwen believed was the truth. 

Richard had taken just two strides toward this fair girl. Branwenstayed motionless, her lips a little parted. The affairs of earth andheaven were motionless throughout the moment, attendant, it seemed tohim; and to him his whole life was like a wave that trembled now atfull height, and he was aware of a new world all made of beauty and ofpity. Then the lute fell from his spread out hands, and Richardsighed, and shrugged. 

"There is a task set me, " he said--"it is God's work, I think. But Ido not know--I only know that you are very beautiful, Branwen, " hesaid, and in the name he found a new and piercing loveliness. 

And he said also: "Go! For I have loved many women, and, God help me!I know that I have but to wheedle you and you, too, will yield! Yonderis God's work to be done, and within me rages a commonwealth ofdevils. Child! child!" he cried, "I am, and ever was, a coward, tootimid to face life without reserve, and always I laughed because I wasafraid to concede that anything is serious!"

For a long while Richard lay at his ease in the lengthening shadows ofthe afternoon. 

"I love her. She thinks me an elderly imbecile with a flat and reedysinging-voice, and she is perfectly right. She has never evenentertained the notion of loving me. That is well, for to-morrow, or, it may be, the day after, we must part forever. I would not have theparting make her sorrowful--or not, at least, too unalterablysorrowful. It is very well that Branwen does not love me. 

"Why should she? I am almost twice her age, an aging fellow now, battered and selfish and too indolent to love her--say, as Gwyllemloved her. I did well to kill that Gwyllem. I am profoundly glad Ikilled him, and I thoroughly enjoyed doing it; but, after all, the manloved her in his fashion, and to the uttermost reach of his grossnature. I love her in a rather more decorous and acceptable fashion, it is true, but only a half of me loves her. The other half of meremembers that I am aging, that Caradawc's hut is leaky, that, infine, bodily comfort is the single luxury of which one never tires. Iam a very contemptible creature, the empty scabbard of a man, precisely as Owain said. " This settled, Richard whistled to his dog. 

The sun had set. There were no shadows anywhere as Richard and hissheep went homeward, but on every side the colors of the world weremore sombre. Twice his flock roused a covey of partridges which hadsettled for the night. The screech-owl had come out of his hole, andbats were already blundering about, and the air was cooling. There wasas yet but one star in the green and cloudless heaven, and this wasvery large, like a beacon: it appeared to him symbolical that hetrudged away from this star. 

Next morning the Welshmen came, and now the trap was ready for Henryof Lancaster. 

It befell just two days later, about noon, that while Richard idlytalked with Branwen a party of soldiers, some fifteen in number, rodedown the river's bank from the ford above. Their leader paused, thengave an order. The men drew rein. He cantered forward. 

"God give you joy, fair sir, " said Richard, when the cavalier was nearhim. 

The new-comer raised his visor. "God give you eternal joy, my faircousin, " he said, "and very soon. Now send away this woman before thathappens which must happen. "

"Do you plan, " said Richard, "to disfigure the stage of our quietpastorals with murder?"

"I design my own preservation, " King Henry answered, "for while youlive my rule is insecure. "

"I am sorry, " Richard said, "that in part my blood is yours. "

Twice he sounded his horn, and everywhere from rustling underwoodsarose the half-naked Welshmen. Said Richard: "You should read historymore carefully, Cousin Henry. You might have profited, as I have done, by considering the trick which our grandfather, old Edward Longshanks, played on the French King at Mezelais. As matters stand, your men areone to ten. You are impotent. Now, now we balance our accounts! Thesepersons here will first deal with your followers. Then they willconduct you to Glyndwyr, who has long desired to deal with youhimself, in privacy, since that Whit-Monday when you murdered hisson. "

The King began, "In mercy, sire--!" and Richard laughed a little, saying:

"That virtue is not overabundant among us of Oriander's blood, as weboth know. No, cousin, Fate and Time are merry jesters. See, now, their latest mockery! You the King of England ride to Sycharth to yourdeath, and I the tender of sheep depart into London, without anyhindrance, to reign henceforward over these islands. To-morrow you areworm's-meat, Cousin Henry: to-morrow, as yesterday, I am King ofEngland. "

Then Branwen gave one sharp, brief cry, and Richard forgot all thingssaving this girl, and strode to her. He had caught up her hard, lithehands; against his lips he strained them close and very close. 

"Branwen--!" he said. His eyes devoured her. 

"Yes, King, " she answered. "O King of England! O fool that I have beento think you less!"

In a while Richard said: "Well, I at least am not fool enough to thinkof making you a king's whore. So I must choose between a peasant wenchand England. Now I choose, and how gladly! Branwen, help me to be morethan King of England!"

Low and very low he spoke, and long and very long he gazed at her, andneither seemed to breathe. Of what she thought I cannot tell you; butin Richard there was no power of thought, only a great wonderment. Why, between this woman's love and aught else there was no choice forhim, he knew upon a sudden. Perhaps he would thus worship her always, he reflected: and then again, perhaps he would be tired of her beforelong, just as all other persons seemed to abate in these infatuations:meanwhile it was certain that he was very happy. No, he could not goback to the throne and to the little French girl who was in law hiswife. 

And, as if from an immense distance, came to Richard the dogged voiceof Henry of Lancaster. "It is of common report in these islands that Ihave a better right to the throne than you. As much was told ourgrandfather, King Edward of happy memory, when he educated you and hadyou acknowledged heir to the crown, but his love was so strong for hisson the Prince of Wales that nothing could alter his purpose. Andindeed if you had followed even the example of the Black Prince youmight still have been our King; but you have always acted socontrarily to his admirable precedents as to occasion the rumor to begenerally believed throughout England that you were not, after all, his son--"

Richard had turned impatiently. "For the love of Heaven, truncate yourabominable periods. Be off with you. Yonder across that river is thethrone of England, which you appear, through some lunacy, to considera desirable possession. Take it, then; for, praise God! the sword hasfound its sheath. "

The King answered: "I do not ask you to reconsider your dismissal, assuredly--Richard, " he cried, a little shaken, "I perceive that untilyour death you will win contempt and love from every person. "

"Yes, yes, for many years I have been the playmate of the world, " saidRichard; "but to-day I wash my hands, and set about another and morelaudable business. I had dreamed certain dreams, indeed--but what hadI to do with all this strife between the devil and the tiger? No, Glyndwyr will set up Mortimer against you now, and you two must fightit out. I am no more his tool, and no more your enemy, mycousin--Henry, " he said with quickening voice, "there was a time whenwe were boys and played together, and there was no hatred between us, and I regret that time!"

"As God lives, I too regret that time!" the bluff, squinting Kingreplied. He stared at Richard for a while wherein each understood. "Dear fool, " Sire Henry said, "there is no man in all the world buthates me saving only you. " Then the proud King clapped spurs to hisproud horse and rode away. 

More lately Richard dismissed his wondering marauders. Now he andBranwen were alone and a little troubled, since each was afraid ofthat oncoming moment when their eyes must meet. 

So Richard laughed. "Praise God!" he wildly cried, "I am the greatestfool unhanged!"

She answered: "I am the happier for your folly. I am the happiest ofGod's creatures. "

And Richard meditated. "Faith of a gentleman!" he declared; "but youare nothing of the sort, and of this fact I happen to be quitecertain. " Their lips met then and afterward their eyes; and each ofthese ragged peasants was too glad for laughter. 

THE END OF THE EIGHTH NOVEL

IX

THE STORY OF THE NAVARRESE

 "J'ay en mon cueur joyeusement Escript, afin que ne l'oublie, Ce refrain qu'ayme chierement, C'estes vous de qui suis amye. "

THE NINTH NOVEL. --JEHANE OF NAVARRE, AFTER A WITHSTANDING OF ALL OTHERASSAULTS, IS IN A LONG DUEL, WHEREIN TIME AND COMMON-SENSE AREFLOUTED, AND KINGDOMS ARE SHAKEN, DETHRONED AND RECOMPENSED BY ANENDURING LUNACY. 

_The Story of the Navarrese_

In the year of grace 1386, upon the feast of Saint Bartholomew (thusNicolas begins), came to the Spanish coast Messire Peyre de Lesnerac, in a war-ship sumptuously furnished and manned by many persons ofdignity and wealth, in order suitably to escort the Princess Jehaneinto Brittany, where she was to marry the Duke of that province. Therewere now rejoicings throughout Navarre, in which the Princess took buta nominal part and young Antoine Riczi none at all. 

This Antoine Riczi came to Jehane that August twilight in the hedgedgarden. "King's daughter!" he sadly greeted her. "Duchess of Brittany!Countess of Rougemont! Lady of Nantes and of Guerrand! of Rais and ofToufon and Guerche!"

She answered, "No, my dearest, --I am that Jehane, whose only title isthe Constant Lover. " And in the green twilight, lit as yet by onelow-hanging star alone, their lips and desperate young bodies clung, now, it might be, for the last time. 

Presently the girl spoke. Her soft mouth was lax and tremulous, andher gray eyes were more brilliant than the star yonder. The boy's armswere about her, so that neither could be quite unhappy, yet. 

"Friend, " said Jehane, "I have no choice. I must wed with this deMontfort. I think I shall die presently. I have prayed God that I maydie before they bring me to the dotard's bed. "

Young Riczi held her now in an embrace more brutal. "Mine! mine!" hesnarled toward the obscuring heavens. 

"Yet it may be I must live. Friend, the man is very old. Is it wickedto think of that? For I cannot but think of his great age. "

Then Riczi answered: "My desires--may God forgive me!--have clutchedlike starving persons at that sorry sustenance. Friend! ah, fair, sweet friend! the man is human and must die, but love, we read, isimmortal. I am wishful to kill myself, Jehane. But, oh, Jehane! dareyou to bid me live?"

"Friend, as you love me, I entreat you to live. Friend, I crave of theEternal Father that if I falter in my love for you I may be deniedeven the one bleak night of ease which Judas knows. " The girl did notweep; dry-eyed she winged a perfectly sincere prayer towardincorruptible saints. Riczi was to remember the fact, and through longyears of severance. 

For even now, as Riczi went away from Jehane, a shrill singing-girlwas rehearsing, yonder behind the yew-hedge, the song which she was tosing at Jehane's bridal feast. 

Sang this joculatrix:

 "When the Morning broke before us Came the wayward Three astraying, Chattering in babbling chorus, (Obloquies of Aether saying), -- Hoidens that, at pegtop playing, Flung their Top where yet it whirls Through the coil of clouds unstaying, For the Fates are captious girls!"

And upon the next day de Lesnerac bore young Jehane from Pampeluna andpresently to Saillé, where old Jehan the Brave took her to wife. Shelived as a queen, but she was a woman of infrequent laughter. 

She had Duke Jehan's adoration, and his barons' obeisancy, and hisvillagers applauded her passage with stentorian shouts. She passedinterminable days amid bright curious arrasses and trod listlesslyover pavements strewn with flowers. She had fiery-hearted jewels, andshimmering purple cloths, and much furniture adroitly carven, and manytapestries of Samarcand and Baldach upon which were embroidered, bybrown fingers that time had turned long ago to Asian dust, innumerableasps and deer and phoenixes and dragons and all the motley inhabitantsof air and of the thicket; but her memories, too, she had, and for adreary while she got no comfort because of them. Then ambitionquickened. 

Young Antoine Riczi likewise nursed his wound as best he might; but atthe end of the second year after Jehane's wedding his uncle, theVicomte de Montbrison--a gaunt man, with preoccupied and troubledeyes--had summoned Antoine into Lyonnois and, after appropriatesalutation, had informed the lad that, as the Vicomte's heir, he wasto marry the Demoiselle Gerberge de Nérac upon the ensuing Michaelmas. 

"That I may not do, " said Riczi; and since a chronicler that wouldtempt fortune should never stretch the fabric of his wares too thin(unlike Sir Hengist), I merely tell you these two dwelt together atMontbrison for a decade: and the Vicomte swore at his nephew andpredicted this or that disastrous destination as often as Antoinedeclined to marry the latest of his uncle's candidates, --in whom theVicomte was of an astonishing fertility. 

In the year of grace 1401 came the belated news that Duke Jehan hadclosed his final day. "You will be leaving me!" the Vicomte growled;"now, in my decrepitude, you will be leaving me! It is abominable, andI shall in all likelihood disinherit you this very night. "

"Yet it is necessary, " Riczi answered; and, filled with no unhallowedjoy, he rode for Vannes, in Brittany, where the Duchess-Regent heldher court. Dame Jehane had within that fortnight put aside hermourning. She sat beneath a green canopy, gold-fringed and powderedwith many golden stars, when Riczi came again to her, and the risingsaps of spring were exercising their august and formidable influence. She sat alone, by prearrangement, to one end of the high-ceiled andradiant apartment; midway in the hall her lords and divers ladies weregathered about a saltatrice and a jongleur, who were diverting thecourtiers, to the mincing accompaniment of a lute; but Jehane satapart from these, frail, and splendid with many jewels, and a littlesad. 

And Antoine Riczi found no power of speech within him at the first. Silent he stood before her, still as an effigy, while meltingly thejongleur sang. 

"Jehane!" said Antoine Riczi, in a while, "have you, then, forgotten, O Jehane?"

The resplendent woman had not moved at all. It was as though she weresome tinted and lavishly adorned statue of barbaric heathenry, and heher postulant; and her large eyes appeared to judge an immeasurablepath, beyond him. Now her lips fluttered somewhat. "I am the Duchessof Brittany, " she said, in the phantom of a voice. "I am the Countessof Rougemont. The Lady of Nantes and of Guerrand! of Rais and ofToufon and Guerche!. . . Jehane is dead. "

The man had drawn one audible breath. "You are that Jehane, whose onlytitle is the Constant Lover!"

"Friend, the world smirches us, " she said half-pleadingly, "I havetasted too deep of wealth and power. I am drunk with a deadly wine, and ever I thirst--I thirst--"

"Jehane, do you remember that May morning in Pampeluna when first Ikissed you, and about us sang many birds? Then as now you wore a gownof green, Jehane. "

"Friend, I have swayed kingdoms since. "

"Jehane, do you remember that August twilight in Pampeluna when last Ikissed you? Then as now you wore a gown of green, Jehane. "

"But I wore no such chain as this about my neck, " the woman answered, and lifted a huge golden collar garnished with emeralds and sapphiresand with many pearls. "Friend, the chain is heavy, yet I lack the willto cast it off. I lack the will, Antoine. " And now with a sudden shoutof mirth her courtiers applauded the evolutions of the saltatrice. 

"King's daughter!" said Riczi then; "O perilous merchandise! a godcame to me and a sword had pierced his breast. He touched the goldhilt of it and said, 'Take back your weapon. ' I answered, 'I do notknow you. ' 'I am Youth' he said; 'take back your weapon. '"

"It is true, " she responded, "it is lamentably true that afterto-night we are as different persons, you and I. "

He said: "Jehane, do you not love me any longer? Remember old yearsand do not break your oath with me, Jehane, since God abhors nothingso much as unfaith. For your own sake, Jehane, --ah, no, not for yoursake nor for mine, but for the sake of that blithe Jehane, whom, soyou tell me, time has slain!"

Once or twice she blinked, as if dazzled by a light of intolerablesplendor, but otherwise she stayed rigid. "You have dared, messire, toconfront me with the golden-hearted, clean-eyed Navarrese that oncewas I! and I requite. " The austere woman rose. "Messire, you swore tome, long since, eternal service. I claim my right in domnei. Yonder--gray-bearded, the man in black and silver--is the Earl ofWorcester, the King of England's ambassador, in common with whom thewealthy dowager of Brittany has signed a certain contract. Go you, then, with Worcester into England, as my proxy, and in that island, asmy proxy, become the wife of the King of England. Messire, youraudience is done. "

Riczi said this: "Can you hurt me any more, Jehane?--no, even in hellthey cannot hurt me now. Yet I, at least, keep faith, and in your faceI fling faith like a glove--old-fashioned, it may be, but clean, --andI will go, Jehane. "

Her heart raged. "Poor, glorious fool!" she thought; "had you but thewit even now to use me brutally, even now to drag me from thisdaïs--!" Instead he went away from her smilingly, treading through thehall with many affable salutations, while the jongleur sang. 

Sang the jongleur:

 "There is a land those hereabout Ignore . . . Its gates are barred By Titan twins, named Fear and Doubt. These mercifully guard That land we seek--the land so fair!-- And all the fields thereof, Where daffodils flaunt everywhere And ouzels chant of love, -- Lest we attain the Middle-Land, Whence clouded well-springs rise, And vipers from a slimy strand Lift glittering cold eyes. 

 "Now, the parable all may understand, And surely you know the name of the land! Ah, never a guide or ever a chart May safely lead you about this land, -- The Land of the Human Heart!"

And the following morning, being duly empowered, Antoine Riczi sailedfor England in company with the Earl of Worcester; and upon SaintRichard's day the next ensuing was, at Eltham, as proxy of Jehane, married in his own person to the bloat King Henry, the fourth of thatname to reign. This king was that same squinting Harry of Derby(called also Henry of Lancaster and Bolingbroke) who stole hiscousin's crown, and about whom I have told you in the preceding story. First Sire Henry placed the ring on Riczi's finger, and then spokeAntoine Riczi, very loud and clear:

"I, Antoine Riczi, --in the name of my worshipful lady, Dame Jehane, the daughter of Messire Charles until lately King of Navarre, theDuchess of Brittany and the Countess of Rougemont, --do take you, SireHenry of Lancaster, King of England and in title of France, and Lordof Ireland, to be my husband; and thereto I, Antoine Riczi, in thespirit of my said lady"--the speaker paused here to regard the grosshulk of masculinity before him, and then smiled very sadly--"inprecisely the spirit of my said lady, I plight you my troth. "

Afterward the King made him presents of some rich garments of scarlettrimmed with costly furs, and of four silk belts studded with silverand gold, and with valuable clasps, of which the owner might well beproud, and Riczi returned to Lyonnois. "Depardieux!" his uncle said;"so you return alone!"

"I return as did Prince Troilus, " said Riczi--"to boast to you ofliberal entertainment in the tent of Diomede. "

"You are certainly an inveterate fool, " the Vicomte considered after aprolonged appraisal of his face, "since there is always a deal ofother pink-and-white flesh as yet unmortgaged--Boy with my brother'seyes!" the Vicomte said, in another voice; "I have heard of the taskput upon you: and I would that I were God to punish as is fitting! Butyou are welcome home, my lad. "

So these two abode together at Montbrison for a long time, and in thepurlieus of that place hunted and hawked, and made sonnets once in awhile, and read aloud from old romances some five days out of theseven. The verses of Riczi were in the year of grace 1410 made public, not without acclamation; and thereafter the stripling Comte deCharolais, future heir to all Burgundy and a zealous patron of rhyme, was much at Montbrison, and there conceived for Antoine Riczi suchadmiration as was possible to a very young man only. 

In the year of grace 1412 the Vicomte, being then bedridden, diedwithout any disease and of no malady save the inherencies of his age. "I entreat of you, my nephew, " he said at last, "that always you useas touchstone the brave deed you did at Eltham. It is necessary for agentleman to serve his lady according to her commandments, but youperformed the most absurd and the most cruel task which any woman everimposed upon her lover and servitor in domnei. I laugh at you, and Ienvy you. " Thus he died, about Martinmas. 

Now was Antoine Riczi a powerful baron, but he got no comfort of hislordship, because that old incendiary, the King of Darkness, dailyadded fuel to a smouldering sorrow until grief quickened into vaultingflames of wrath and of disgust. 

"What now avail my riches?" said the Vicomte. "How much wealthier wasI when I was loved, and was myself an eager lover! I relish no otherpleasures than those of love. I am Love's sot, drunk with a deadlywine, poor fool, and ever I thirst. All my chattels and my acresappear to me to be bright vapors, and the more my dominion and mypower increase, the more rancorously does my heart sustain itsbitterness over having been robbed of that fair merchandise which isthe King of England's. To hate her is scant comfort and to despise hernone at all, since it follows that I who am unable to forget thewanton am even more to be despised than she. I will go into Englandand execute what mischief I may against her. "

The new Vicomte de Montbrison set forth for Paris, first to do homagefor his fief, and secondly to be accredited for some plausible missioninto England. But in Paris he got disquieting news. Jehane's husbandwas dead, and her stepson Henry, the fifth monarch of that name toreign in Britain, had invaded France to support preposterous claimswhich the man advanced to the crown of that latter kingdom; and as theearth is altered by the advent of winter, so was the appearance ofFrance transformed by King Henry's coming, and everywhere the nobleswere stirred up to arms, the castles were closed, the huddled citieswere fortified, and on every side arose entrenchments. 

Thus through this sudden turn was the new Vicomte, the dreamer and therecluse, caught up by the career of events, as a straw is borne awayby a torrent, when the French lords marched with their vassals toHarfleur, where they were soundly drubbed by the King of England; asafterward at Agincourt. 

But in the year of grace 1417 there was a breathing space fordiscredited France, and presently the Vicomte de Montbrison was sentinto England, as ambassador. He got in London a fruitless audience ofKing Henry, whose demands were such as rendered a renewal of the warinevitable; and afterward got, in the month of April, about the day ofPalm Sunday, at the Queen's dower-palace of Havering-Bower, aninterview with Queen Jehane. [*]

[*Nicolas unaccountably omits to mention that during the Frenchwars she had ruled England as Regent with signal capacity, --althoughthis fact, as you will see more lately, is the pivot of hischronicle. ]

A curled pert page took the Vicomte to where she sat alone, byprearrangement, in a chamber with painted walls, profusely lighted bythe sun, and made pretence to weave a tapestry. When the page had goneshe rose and cast aside the shuttle, and then with a glad and wordlesscry stumbled toward the Vicomte. "Madame and Queen--!" he coldly said. 

His judgment found in her a quite ordinary, frightened woman, agingnow, but still very handsome in these black and shimmering gold robes;but all his other faculties found her desirable: and with a containedhatred he had perceived, as if by the terse illumination of athunderbolt, that he could never love any woman save the woman whom hemost despised. 

She said: "I had forgotten. I had remembered only you, Antoine, andNavarre, and the clean-eyed Navarrese--" Now for a little, Jehanepaced the gleaming and sun-drenched apartment as a bright leopardessmight tread her cage. Then she wheeled. "Friend, I think that GodHimself has deigned to avenge you. All misery my reign has been. FirstHotspur, then prim Worcester harried us. Came Glyndwyr afterward toprick us with his devils' horns. Followed the dreary years that linkedme to the rotting corpse which God's leprosy devoured while the poorfurtive thing yet moved, and endured its share in the punishment ofManuel's poisonous blood. All misery, Antoine! And now I live beneatha sword. "

"You have earned no more, " he said. "You have earned no more, OJehane! whose only title is the Constant Lover!" He spat it out. 

She came uncertainly toward him, as though he had been some notimplacable knave with a bludgeon. "For the King hates me, " sheplaintively said, "and I live beneath a sword. The big, fierce-eyedboy has hated me from the first, for all his lip-courtesy. And now helacks the money to pay his troops, and I am the wealthiest personwithin his realm. I am a woman and alone in a foreign land. So I mustwait, and wait, and wait, Antoine, till he devises some trumped-upaccusation. Friend, I live as did Saint Damoclus, beneath a sword. Antoine!" she wailed--for now the pride of Queen Jehane was shatteredutterly--"I am held as a prisoner for all that my chains are of gold. "

"Yet it was not until of late, " he observed, "that you disliked themetal which is the substance of all crowns. "

And now the woman lifted toward him her massive golden necklace, garnished with emeralds and sapphires and with many pearls, and in thesunlight the gems were tawdry things. "Friend, the chain is heavy, andI lack the power to cast it off. The Navarrese we know of wore no suchperilous fetters. Ah, you should have mastered me at Vannes. You couldhave done so, very easily. But you only talked--oh, Mary pity us! youonly talked!--and I could find only a servant where I had sore need tofind a master. Let all women pity me!"

But now came many armed soldiers into the apartment. With spirit QueenJehane turned to meet them, and you saw that she was of royal blood, for now the pride of many emperors blazed and informed her body aslight occupies a lantern. "At last you come for me, messieurs?"

"Whereas, " the leader of these soldiers read from aparchment--"whereas the King's stepmother, Queen Jehane, is accused bycertain persons of an act of witch-craft that with diabolical andsubtile methods wrought privily to destroy the King, the said DameJehane is by the King committed (all her attendants being removed) tothe custody of Sir John Pelham, who will, at the King's pleasure, confine her within Pevensey Castle, there to be kept under Sir John'scontrol: the lands and other properties of the said Dame Jehane beinghereby forfeit to the King, whom God preserve!"

"Harry of Monmouth!" said Jehane, --"ah, my tall stepson, could I butcome to you, very quietly, with a knife--!" She shrugged hershoulders, and the gold about her person glittered in the sunlight. "Witchcraft! ohimé, one never disproves that. Friend, now are youavenged the more abundantly. "

"Young Riczi is avenged, " the Vicomte said; "and I came hitherdesiring vengeance. "

She wheeled, a lithe flame (he thought) of splendid fury. "And in thegutter Jehane dares say what Queen Jehane upon the throne might neversay. Had I reigned all these years as mistress not of England but ofEurope, --had nations wheedled me in the place of barons, --young Riczihad been none the less avenged. Bah! what do these so-little personsmatter? Take now your petty vengeance! drink deep of it! and know thatalways within my heart the Navarrese has lived to shame me! Know thatto-day you despise Jehane, the purchased woman! and that Jehane lovesyou! and that the love of proud Jehane creeps like a beaten cur towardyour feet, in the sight of common men! and know that Riczi isavenged, --you milliner!"

"Into England I came desiring vengeance--Apples of Sodom! O bitterfruit!" the Vicomte thought; "O fitting harvest of a fool's assiduoushusbandry!"

They took her from him: and that afternoon, after long meditation, theVicomte de Montbrison entreated a second private audience of KingHenry, and readily obtained it. "Unhardy is unseely, " the Vicomte saidat this interview's conclusion. The tale tells that the Vicomtereturned to France and within this realm assembled all such lords asthe abuses of the Queen-Regent Isabeau had more notoriouslydissatisfied. 

The Vicomte had upon occasion an invaluable power of speech; and now, so great was the devotion of love's dupe, so heartily, so hastily, didhe design to remove the discomforts of Queen Jehane, that now hiseloquence was twin to Belial's insidious talking when that fiendtempts us to some proud iniquity. 

Then presently these lords had sided with King Henry, as did theVicomte de Montbrison, in open field. Next, as luck would have it, Jehan Sans-Peur was slain at Montereau; and a little later the newDuke of Burgundy, who loved the Vicomte as he loved no other man, hadshifted his coat, forsaking France. These treacheries brought down thewavering scales of warfare, suddenly, with an aweful clangor; and nowin France clean-hearted persons spoke of the Vicomte de Montbrison asthey would speak of Ganelon or of Iscariot, and in every market-placewas King Henry proclaimed as governor of the realm. 

Meantime Queen Jehane had been conveyed to prison and lodged therein. She had the liberty of a tiny garden, high-walled, and of two scantilyfurnished chambers. The brace of hard-featured females whom Pelham hadprovided for the Queen's attendance might speak to her of nothing thatoccurred without the gates of Pevensey, and she saw no other personssave her confessor, a triple-chinned Dominican; had men already lainJehane within the massive and gilded coffin of a queen the outer worldwould have made as great a turbulence in her ears. 

But in the year of grace 1422, upon the feast of Saint Bartholomew, and about vespers--for thus it wonderfully fell out, --one of thosegrim attendants brought to her the first man, save the fat confessor, whom the Queen had seen within five years. The proud, frail womanlooked and what she saw was the inhabitant of all her dreams. 

Said Jehane: "This is ill done. Time has avenged you. Be contentedwith that knowledge, and, for Heaven's sake, do not endeavor tomoralize over the ruin which Heaven has made, and justly made, ofQueen Jehane, as I perceive you mean to do. " She leaned backward inthe chair, very coarsely clad in brown, but knowing that her coloringwas excellent, that she had miraculously preserved her figure, andthat she did not look her real age by a good ten years. Suchreflections beget spiritual comfort even in a prison. 

"Friend, " the lean-faced man now said, "I do not come with suchintent, as my mission will readily attest, nor to any ruin, as yourmirror will attest. Instead, madame, I come as the emissary of KingHenry, now dying at Vincennes, and with letters to the lords andbishops of his council. Dying, the man restores to you your libertyand your dower-lands, your bed and all your movables, and six gowns ofsuch fashion and such color as you may elect. "

Then with hurried speech he told her of five years' events: of howwithin that period King Henry had conquered France, and had marriedthe French King's daughter, and had begotten a boy who would presentlyinherit the united realms of France and England, since in the supremehour of triumph King Henry had been stricken with a mortal sickness, and now lay dying, or perhaps already dead, at Vincennes; and of howwith his penultimate breath the prostrate conqueror had restored toQueen Jehane all properties and all honors which she formerly enjoyed. 

"I shall once more be Regent, " the woman said when the Vicomte hadmade an end; "Antoine, I shall presently be Regent both of France andof England, since Dame Katharine is but a child. " Jehane stoodmotionless save for the fine hands that plucked the air. "Mistress ofEurope! absolute mistress, and with an infant ward! now, may God havemercy on my unfriends, for they will soon perceive great need of it!"

"Yet was mercy ever the prerogative of royal persons, " the Vicomtesuavely said, "and the Navarrese we know of was both royal and verymerciful, O Constant Lover. "

The speech was as a whip-lash. Abruptly suspicion kindled in hershrewd gray eyes. "Harry of Monmouth feared neither man nor God. Itneeded more than any death-bed repentance to frighten him intorestoring my liberty. " There was a silence. "You, a Frenchman, come asthe emissary of King Henry who has devastated France! are there noEnglish lords, then, left alive of his, army?"

The Vicomte de Montbrison said; "There is at all events no personbetter fitted to patch up this dishonorable business of yourcaptivity, in which no clean man would care to meddle. "

She appraised this, and said with entire irrelevance: "The world hassmirched you, somehow. At last you have done something save considerhow badly I treated you. I praise God, Antoine, for it brings younearer. "

He told her all. King Henry, it appeared, had dealt with him atHavering in perfect frankness. The King needed money for his wars inFrance, and failing the seizure of Jehane's enormous wealth, hadexhausted every resource. "And France I mean to have, " the King said. "Now the world knows you enjoy the favor of the Comte de Charolais; soget me an alliance with Burgundy against my imbecile brother ofFrance, and Dame Jehane shall repossess her liberty. There you have myprice. "

"And this price I paid, " the Vicomte sternly said, "for 'Unhardy isunseely, ' Satan whispered, and I knew that Duke Philippe trusted me. Yea, all Burgundy I marshalled under your stepson's banner, and forthree years I fought beneath his loathed banner, until at Troyes wehad trapped and slain the last loyal Frenchman. And to-day in Francemy lands are confiscate, and there is not an honest Frenchman butspits upon my name. All infamy I come to you for this last time, Jehane! as a man already dead I come to you, Jehane, for in Francethey thirst to murder me, and England has no further need ofMontbrison, her blunted and her filthy instrument!"

The woman nodded here. "You have set my thankless service above yourlife, above your honor. I find the rhymester glorious and very vile. "

"All vile, " he answered; "and outworn! King's daughter, I swore toyou, long since, eternal service. Of love I freely gave you yonder inNavarre, as yonder at Eltham I crucified my innermost heart for yourdelectation. Yet I, at least, keep faith, and in your face I flingfaith like a glove--outworn, it may be, and God knows, unclean! Yet I, at least, keep faith! Lands and wealth have I given, up for you, Oking's daughter, and life itself have I given you, and lifelongservice have I given you, and all that I had save honor; and at thelast I give you honor, too. Now let the naked fool depart, Jehane, forhe has nothing more to give. "

While the Vicomte de Montbrison spoke thus, she had leaned upon thesill of an open casement. "Indeed, it had been better, " she said, still with her face averted, and gazing downward at the tree-topsbeneath, "it had been far better had we never met. For this love ofours has proven a tyrannous and evil lord. I have had everything, andupon each feast of will and sense the world afforded me this love hasswept down, like a harpy--was it not a harpy you called the bird inthat old poem of yours?--to rob me of delight. And you have hadnothing, for he has pilfered you of life, giving only dreams inexchange, my poor Antoine, and he has led you at the last to infamy. We are as God made us, and--I may not understand why He permits thisdespotism. "

Thereafter, somewhere below, a peasant sang as he passed supperwardthrough the green twilight, lit as yet by one low-hanging star alone. 

Sang the peasant:

 "King Jesus hung upon the Cross, 'And have ye sinned?' quo' He, --. 'Nay, Dysmas, 'tis no honest loss When Satan cogs the dice ye toss, And thou shall sup with Me, -- Sedebis apud angelos, Quia amavisti!'

 "At Heaven's Gate was Heaven's Queen, 'And have ye sinned?' quo' She, -- 'And would I hold him worth a bean That durst not seek, because unclean, My cleansing charity?-- Speak thou that wast the Magdalene, Quia amavisti!'"

"It may be that in some sort the jingle answers me!" then said Jehane;and she began with an odd breathlessness, "Friend, when King Henrydies--and even now he dies--shall I not as Regent possess such poweras no woman has ever wielded in Europe? can aught prevent this?"

"It is true, " he answered. "You leave this prison to rule over Englandagain, and over conquered France as well, and naught can prevent it. "

"Unless, friend, I were wedded to a Frenchman. Then would the sternEnglish lords never permit that I have any finger in the government. "She came to him with conspicuous deliberation and rested her handsupon his breast. "Friend, I am weary of these tinsel splendors. Whatare this England and this France to me, who crave the real kingdom?"

Her mouth was tremulous and lax, and her gray eyes were more brilliantthan the star yonder. The man's arms were about her, and of the man'sface I cannot tell you. "King's daughter! mistress of half Europe! Iam a beggar, an outcast, as a leper among honorable persons. "

But it was as though he had not spoken. "Friend, it was for this Ihave outlived these garish, fevered years, it was this which made meglad when I was a child and laughed without knowing why. That I mightto-day give up this so-great power for love of you, my all-incapableand soiled Antoine, was, as I now know, the end to which the EternalFather created me. For, look you, " she pleaded, "to surrender absolutedominion over half Europe is a sacrifice. Assure me that it is asacrifice, Antoine! O glorious fool, delude me into the belief that Isurrender much in choosing you! Nay, I know it is as nothing besidewhat you have given up for me, but it is all I have--it is all I have, Antoine!"

He drew a deep and big-lunged breath that seemed to inform his beingwith an indomitable vigor; and grief and doubtfulness went quite awayfrom him. "Love leads us, " he said, "and through the sunlight of theworld Love leads us, and through the filth of it Love leads us, butalways in the end, if we but follow without swerving, Love leadsupward. Yet, O God upon the Cross! Thou that in the article of deathdidst pardon Dysmas! as what maimed warriors of life, as what bemiredtravellers in muddied byways, must we presently come to Thee!"

"Ah, but we will come hand in hand, " she answered; "and He willcomprehend. "

THE END OF THE NINTH NOVEL

X

THE STORY OF THE FOX-BRUSH

 "Dame serez de mon cueur, sans debat, Entierement, jusques mort me consume. Laurier souëf qui pour mon droit combat, Olivier franc, m'ostant toute amertume. "

THE TENTH NOVEL. --KATHARINE OF VALOIS IS LOVED BY A HUNTSMAN, ANDLOVES HIM GREATLY; THEN FINDS HIM, TO HER HORROR, AN IMPOSTOR; AND FORA SUFFICIENT REASON CONSENTS TO MARRY QUITE ANOTHER PERSON, NOT ALLUNWILLINGLY. 

_The Story of the Fox-Brush_

In the year of grace 1417, about Martinmas (thus Nicolas begins), Queen Isabeau fled with her daughter the Lady Katharine to Chartres. There the Queen was met by the Duke of Burgundy, and these two laidtheir heads together to such good effect that presently they got backinto Paris, and in its public places massacred some three thousandArmagnacs. That, however, is a matter which touches history; the rootof our concernment is that, when the Queen and the Duke rode off toattend to this butcher's business, the Lady Katharine was left behindin the Convent of Saint Scholastica, which then stood upon theoutskirts of Chartres, in the bend of the Eure just south of thatcity. She dwelt for a year in this well-ordered place. 

There one finds her upon the day of the decollation of Saint John theBaptist, the fine August morning that starts the tale. Katharine theFair, men called her, with considerable show of reason. She was verytall, and slim as a rush. Her eyes were large and black, having anextreme lustre, like the gleam of undried ink, --a lustre at some timesuncanny. Her abundant hair, too, was black, and to-day seemed doublysombre by contrast with the gold netting which confined it. Her mouthwas scarlet, all curves, and her complexion was famous for itsbrilliancy; only a precisian would have objected that she possessedthe Valois nose, long and thin and somewhat unduly overhanging themouth. 

To-day as she came through the orchard, crimson garbed, she pausedwith lifted eyebrows. Beyond the orchard wall there was a hodgepodgeof noises, among which a nice ear might distinguish the clatter ofhoofs, a yelping and scurrying, and a contention of soft bodies, andabove all a man's voice commanding the turmoil. She was seventeen, soshe climbed into the crotch of an apple-tree and peered over the wall. 

He was in rusty brown and not unshabby; but her regard swept over thisto his face, and there noted how his eyes shone like blue winter starsunder the tumbled yellow hair, and noted the flash of his big teeth ashe swore between them. He held a dead fox by the brush, which he wascutting off; two hounds, lank and wolfish, were scaling his huge bodyin frantic attempts to get at the carrion. A horse grazed close athand. 

So for a heart-beat she saw him. Then he flung the tailless body tothe hounds, and in the act spied two black eyes peeping through theapple-leaves. He laughed, all mirth to the heels of him. "Mademoiselle, I fear we have disturbed your devotions. But I had notheard that it was a Benedictine custom to rehearse aves in tree-tops. "Then, as she leaned forward, both elbows resting more comfortably uponthe wall, and thereby disclosing her slim body among the foliage likea crimson flower green-calyxed, he said, "You are not a nun--Blood ofGod! you are the Princess Katharine!"

The nuns, her present guardians, would have declared the ensuingaction horrific, for Katharine smiled frankly at him and asked howcould he thus recognise her at one glance. 

He answered slowly: "I have seen your portrait. Hah, your portrait!"he jeered, head flung back and big teeth glinting in the sunlight. "There is a painter who merits crucifixion. "

She considered this indicative of a cruel disposition, but also of afine taste in the liberal arts. Aloud she stated:

"You are not a Frenchman, messire. I do not understand how you canhave seen my portrait. "

The man stood for a moment twiddling the fox-brush. "I am a harper, myPrincess. I have visited the courts of many kings, though never thatof France. I perceive I have been woefully unwise. "

This trenched upon insolence--the look of his eyes, indeed, carried itwell past the frontier, --but she found the statement interesting. Straightway she touched the kernel of those fear-blurred legendswhispered about Dom Manuel's reputed descendants. 

"You have, then, seen the King of England?"

"Yes, Highness. "

"Is it true that in him, the devil blood of Oriander has gone mad, andthat he eats children--like Agrapard and Angoulaffre of the BrokenTeeth?"

His gaze widened. "I have heard a deal of scandal concerning the man. But certainly I never heard that. "

Katharine settled back, luxuriously, in the crotch of the apple-tree. "Tell me about him. "

Composedly he sat down upon the grass and began to acquaint her withhis knowledge and opinions concerning Henry, the fifth of that name toreign in England, and the son of that squinting Harry of Derby aboutwhom I have told you so much before. 

Katharine punctuated the harper's discourse with eager questionings, which are not absolutely to our purpose. In the main, this harperthought the man now buffeting France a just king, and he had heard, when the crown was laid aside, Sire Henry was sufficiently jovial, andeven prankish. The harper educed anecdotes. He considered that theKing would manifestly take Rouen, which the insatiable man was nowbesieging. Was the King in treaty for the hand of the Infanta ofAragon? Yes, he undoubtedly was. 

Katharine sighed her pity for this ill-starred woman. "And now tell meabout yourself. "

He was, it appeared, Alain Maquedonnieux, a harper by vocation, and bybirth a native of Ireland. Beyond the fact that it was a savagekingdom adjoining Cataia, Katharine knew nothing of Ireland. Theharper assured her that in this she was misinformed, since the kingsof England claimed Ireland as an appanage, though the Irish themselveswere of two minds as to the justice of these pretensions; all in all, he considered that Ireland belonged to Saint Patrick, and that theholy man had never accredited a vicar. 

"Doubtless, by the advice of God, " Alain said: "for I have read inMaster Roger de Wendover's Chronicles of how at the dread day ofjudgment all the Irish are to muster before the high and piousPatrick, as their liege lord and father in the spirit, and by him beconducted into the presence of God; and of how, by virtue of SaintPatrick's request, all the Irish will die seven years to an hourbefore the second coming of Christ, in order to give the blessed saintsufficient time to marshal his company, which is considerable. "Katharine admitted the convenience of this arrangement, as well as theneglect of her education. Alain gazed up at her for a long while, asif in reflection, and presently said: "Doubtless the Lady Heleine ofArgos also was thus starry-eyed and found in books less divertingreading than in the faces of men. " It flooded Katharine's cheeks witha livelier hue, but did not vex her irretrievably; if she chose toread this man's face, the meaning was plain enough. 

I give you the gist of their talk, and that in all conscience istrivial. But it was a day when one entered love's wardship with aplunge, not in more modern fashion venturing forward bit by bit, asthough love were so much cold water. So they talked for a long while, with laughter mutually provoked and shared, with divers eloquent anddangerous pauses. The harper squatted upon the ground, the Princessleaned over the wall; but to all intent they sat together upon theloftiest turret of Paradise, and it was a full two hours beforeKatharine hinted at departure. 

Alain rose, approaching the wall. "To-morrow I ride for Milan to takeservice with Duke Filippo. I had broken my journey these three dayspast at Châteauneuf yonder, where this fox has been harrying my host'schickens. To-day I went out to slay him, and he led me, his murderer, to the fairest lady earth may boast. Do you not think that, inreturning good for evil, this fox was a true Christian, my Princess?"

Katharine said: "I lament his destruction. Farewell, Messire Alain!And since chance brought you hither--"

"Destiny brought me hither, " Alain affirmed, a mastering hunger in hiseyes. "Destiny has been kind; I shall make a prayer to her that shecontinue so. " But when Katharine demanded what this prayer would be, Alain shook his tawny head. "Presently you shall know, Highness, butnot now. I return to Châteauneuf on certain necessary businesses;to-morrow I set out at cockcrow for Milan and the Visconti's livery. Farewell!" He mounted and rode away in the golden August sunlight, thehounds frisking about him. The fox-brush was fastened in his hat. ThusTristran de Léonois may have ridden a-hawking in drowned Cornwall, thus statelily and composedly, Katharine thought, gazing after him. She went to her apartments, singing an inane song about the amorousand joyful time of spring when everything and everybody is happy, --

 "El tems amoreus plein de joie, El tems où tote riens s'esgaie, --"

and burst into a sudden passion of tears. There were born every day, she reflected, such hosts of women-children, who were not princesses, and therefore compelled to marry detestable kings. 

Dawn found her in the orchard. She was to remember that it was acloudy morning, and that mist-tatters trailed from the more distanttrees. In the slaty twilight the garden's verdure was lustreless, thegrass and foliage were uniformly sombre save where dewdrops showedlike beryls. Nowhere in the orchard was there absolute shadow, nowherea vista unblurred; in the east, half-way between horizon and zenith, two belts of coppery light flared against the gray sky like embersswaddled by ashes. The birds were waking; there were occasionalscurryings in tree-tops and outbursts of peevish twittering to attestas much; and presently came a singing, less musical than that of manya bird perhaps, but far more grateful to the girl who heard it, heartin mouth. A lute accompanied the song demurely. 

Sang Alain:

 "O Madam Destiny, omnipotent, Be not too obdurate to us who pray That this our transient grant of youth be spent In laughter as befits a holiday, From which the evening summons us away, From which to-morrow wakens us to strife And toil and grief and wisdom, --and to-day Grudge us not life!

 "O Madam Destiny, omnipotent, Why need our elders trouble us at play? We know that very soon we shall repent The idle follies of our holiday, And being old, shall be as wise as they: But now we are not wise, and lute and fife Plead sweetlier than axioms, --so to-day Grudge us not life!

 "O Madam Destiny, omnipotent, You have given us youth--and must we cast away The cup undrained and our one coin unspent Because our elders' beards and hearts are gray? They have forgotten that if we delay Death claps us on the shoulder, and with knife Or cord or fever flouts the prayer we pray-- 'Grudge us not life!'

 "Madam, recall that in the sun we play But for an hour, then have the worm for wife, The tomb for habitation--and to-day Grudge us not life!"

Candor in these matters is best. Katharine scrambled into the crotchof the apple-tree. The dew pattered sharply about her, but thePrincess was not in a mood to appraise discomfort. 

"You came!" this harper said, transfigured; and then again, "Youcame!"

She breathed, "Yes. "

So for a long time they stood looking at each other. She foundadoration in his eyes and quailed before it; and in the man's mind nota grimy and mean incident of the past but marshalled to leer at hisunworthiness: yet in that primitive garden the first man and woman, meeting, knew no sweeter terror. 

It was by the minstrel that a familiar earth and the grating speech ofearth were earlier regained. "The affair is of the suddenest, " Alainobserved, and he now swung the lute behind him. He indicated nointention of touching her, though he might easily have done so as hesat there exalted by the height of his horse. "A meteor arrives withmore prelude. But Love is an arbitrary lord; desiring my heart, he hasseized it, and accordingly I would now brave hell to come to you, andfinding you there, would esteem hell a pleasure-garden. I have alreadymade my prayer to Destiny that she concede me love. Now of God, ourFather and Master, I entreat quick death if I am not to win you. For, God willing, I shall come to you again, even if in order to do this Ihave to split the world like a rotten orange. "

"Madness! Oh, brave, sweet madness!" Katharine said. "You are aminstrel and I am a king's daughter. "

"Is it madness? Why, then, I think sane persons are to becommiserated. And indeed I spy in all this some design. Across halfthe earth I came to you, led by a fox. Hey, God's face!" Alain swore;"the foxes which Samson, that old sinewy captain, loosed among thecorn of heathenry kindled no disputation such as this fox has setafoot. That was an affair of standing corn and olives spoilt, a bushelor so of disaster; now poised kingdoms topple on the brink of ruin. There will be martial argument shortly if you bid me come again. "

"I bid you come, " said Katharine; and after they had stared at eachother for a long while, he rode away in silence. It was through a dankand tear-flawed world that she stumbled conventward, while out of theeast the sun came bathed in mists, a watery sun no brighter than asilver coin. 

And for a month the world seemed no less dreary, but about Michaelmasthe Queen-Regent sent for her. At the Hôtel de Saint-Pol matters weremuch the same. Katharine found her mother in foul-mouthed rage overthe failure of a third attempt to poison the Dauphin of Vienne, asQueen Isabeau had previously poisoned her two elder sons; I might heretrace out a curious similitude between the Valois and thatdragon-spawned race which Jason very anciently slew at Colchis, sincethe world was never at peace so long as any two of them existed. ButKing Charles greeted his daughter with ampler deference, esteeming herto be the wife of Presbyter John, the tyrant of Aethiopia. However, ingenuity had just suggested card-playing for King Charles' amusement, and he paid little attention nowadays to any one save his opponent atthis new game. 

So the French King chirped his senile jests over the card-table, whilethe King of England was besieging the French city of Rouen sedulouslyand without mercy. In late autumn an armament from Ireland joinedHenry's forces. The Irish fought naked, it was said, with long knives. Katharine heard discreditable tales of these Irish, and reflected howgross are the exaggerations of rumor. 

In the year of grace 1419, in January, the burgesses of Rouen, havingconsumed their horses, and finding frogs and rats unpalatable, yieldedthe town. It was the Queen-Regent who brought the news to Katharine. 

"God is asleep, " the Queen said; "and while He nods, the Butcher ofAgincourt has stolen our good city of Rouen. " She sat down andbreathed heavily. "Never was any poor woman so pestered as I! Thepuddings to-day were quite uneatable, as you saw for yourself, and onSunday the Englishman entered Rouen in great splendor, attended by hischief nobles; but the Butcher rode alone, and before him went a pagecarrying a fox-brush on the point of his lance. I put it to you, isthat the contrivance of a sane man? Euh! euh!" Dame Isabeau squealedon a sudden; "you are bruising me. "

Katharine had gripped her by the shoulder. "The King of England--atall, fair man? with big teeth? a tiny wen upon his neck--here--andwith his left cheek scarred? with blue eyes, very bright, bright astapers?" She poured out her questions in a torrent, and awaited theanswer, seeming not to breathe at all. 

"I believe so, " the Queen said, "and they say, too, that he has thedamned squint of old Manuel the Redeemer. "

"O God!" said Katharine. 

"Ay, our only hope now. And may God show him no more mercy than hasthis misbegotten English butcher shown us!" the good lady desired, with fervor. "The hog, having won our Normandy, is now advancing onParis itself. He repudiated the Aragonish alliance last August; anduntil last August he was content with Normandy, they tell us, but nowhe swears to win all France. The man is a madman, and ScythianTamburlaine was more lenient. And I do not believe that in all Francethere is a cook who understands his business. " She went awaywhimpering, and proceeded to get tipsy. 

The Princess remained quite still, as Dame Isabeau had left her; youmay see a hare crouch so at sight of the hounds. Finally the girlspoke aloud. "Until last August!" Katharine said. "Until last August!_Poised kingdoms topple on the brink of ruin, now that you bid me cometo you again_. And I bade this devil's grandson come to me, as mylover!" Presently she went into her oratory and began to pray. 

In the midst of her invocation she wailed: "Fool, fool! How could Ihave thought him less than a king!"

You are to imagine her breast thus adrum with remorse and hatred ofherself, the while that town by town fell before the invader likecard-houses. Every rumor of defeat--and the news of some fresh defeatcame daily--was her arraignment; impotently she cowered at God'sknees, knowing herself a murderess, whose infamy was still afoot, outpacing her prayers, whose victims were battalions. Tarpeia andPisidicé and Rahab were her sisters; she hungered in her abasement forJudith's nobler guilt. 

In May he came to her. A truce was patched up, and French and Englishmet amicably in a great plain near Meulan. A square space was stakedout and on three sides boarded in, the fourth side being the riverSeine. This enclosure the Queen-Regent, Jehan of Burgundy, andKatharine entered from the French side. Simultaneously the EnglishKing appeared, accompanied by his brothers the Dukes of Clarence andGloucester, and followed by the Earl of Warwick. Katharine raised hereyes with I know not what lingering hope; but it was he, a young Zeusnow, triumphant and uneager. In his helmet in place of a plume he worea fox-brush spangled with jewels. 

These six entered the tent pitched for the conference--the hanging ofblue velvet embroidered with fleurs-de-lys of gold blurred before thegirl's eyes, --and there the Earl of Warwick embarked upon a sea ofrhetoric. His French was indifferent, his periods were interminable, and his demands exorbitant; in brief, the King of England wantedKatharine and most of France, with a reversion at the French King'sdeath of the entire kingdom. Meanwhile Sire Henry sat in silence, hiseyes glowing. 

"I have come, " he said, under cover of Warwick's oratory--"I have comeagain, my lady. "

Katharine's gaze flickered over him. "Liar!" she said, very softly. "Has God no thunders remaining in His armory that this vile thiefstill goes unblasted? Would you steal love as well as kingdoms?"

His ruddy face was now white. "I love you, Katharine. "

"Yes, " she answered, "for I am your pretext. I can well believe, messire, that you love your pretext for theft and murder. "

Neither spoke after this, and presently the Earl of Warwick havingcome to his peroration, the matter was adjourned till the next day. The party separated. It was not long before Katharine had informed hermother that, God willing, she would never again look upon the King ofEngland's face uncoffined. Isabeau found her a madwoman. The girlswept opposition before her with gusts of demoniacal fury, wept, shrieked, tore at her hair, and eventually fell into a sort ofepileptic seizure; between rage and terror she became a horrid, frenzied beast. I do not dwell upon this, for it is not a condition inwhich the comeliest maid shows to advantage. But, for the Valois, insanity always lurked at the next corner, and they knew it; to savethe girl's reason the Queen was forced to break off all discussion ofthe match. Accordingly, the Duke of Burgundy went next day to theconference alone. Jehan began with "ifs, " and over these flimsybarriers Henry, already fretted by Katharine's scorn, presentlyvaulted to a towering fury. 

"Fair cousin, " the King said, after a deal of vehement bickering, "wewish you to know that we will have the daughter of your King, and thatwe will drive both him and you out of this kingdom. "

The Duke answered, not without spirit, "Sire, you are pleased to sayso; but before you have succeeded in ousting my lord and me from thisrealm, I am of the opinion that you will be very heartily tired. "

At this the King turned on his heel; over his shoulder he flung: "I amtireless; also, I am agile as a fox in the pursuit of my desires. Saythat to your Princess. " Then he went away in a rage. 

It had seemed an approvable business to win love incognito, accordingto the example of many ancient emperors, but in practice he hadtripped over an ugly outgrowth from the legendary custom. The girlhated him, there was no doubt about it; and it was equally certain heloved her. Particularly caustic was the reflection that a twitch ofhis finger would get him Katharine as his wife, for before long theQueen-Regent was again attempting secret negotiations to bring thisabout. Yes, he could get the girl's body by a couple of pen-strokes, and had he been older that might have contented him: as it was, whathe wanted was to rouse the look her eyes had borne in Chartres orchardthat tranquil morning, and this one could not readily secure byfiddling with seals and parchments. You see his position: thishigh-spirited young man now loved the Princess too utterly to take heron lip-consent, and this marriage was now his one possible excuse forceasing from victorious warfare. So he blustered, and the fightingrecommenced; and he slew in a despairing rage, knowing that by everymovement of his arm he became to her so much the more detestable. 

Then the Vicomte de Montbrison, as you have heard, betrayed France, and King Henry began to strip the French realm of provinces as youpeel the layers from an onion. By the May of the year of grace 1420France was, and knew herself to be, not beaten but demolished. Only afag-end of the French army lay entrenched at Troyes, where KingCharles and his court awaited Henry's decision as to the morrow'saction. If he chose to destroy them root and branch, he could; andthey knew such mercy as was in the man to be quite untarnished byprevious using. Sire Henry drew up a small force before the city andmade no overtures toward either peace or throat-cutting. 

This was the posture of affairs on the evening of the Sunday afterAscension day, when Katharine sat at cards with her father in hisapartments at the Hôtel de Ville. The King was pursing his lips overan alternative play, when somebody began singing below in thecourtyard. 

Sang the voice:

 "I can find no meaning in life, That have weighed the world, --and it was Abundant with folly, and rife With sorrows brittle as glass, And with joys that flicker and pass Like dreams through a fevered head; And like the dripping of rain In gardens naked and dead Is the obdurate thin refrain Of our youth which is presently dead. 

 "And she whom alone I have loved Looks ever with loathing on me, As one she hath seen disproved And stained with such smirches as be Not ever cleansed utterly; And is both to remember the days When Destiny fixed her name As the theme and the goal of my praise; And my love engenders shame, And I stain what I strive for and praise. 

 "O love, most perfect of all, Just to have known you is well! And it heartens me now to recall That just to have known you is well, And naught else is desirable Save only to do as you willed And to love you my whole life long;-- But this heart in me is filled With hunger cruel and strong, And with hunger unfulfilled. 

 "Fond heart, though thy hunger be As a flame that wanders unstilled, There is none more perfect than she!"

Malise now came into the room, and, without speaking, laid a fox-brushbefore the Princess. 

Katharine twirled it in her hand, staring at the card-littered table. "So you are in his pay, Malise? I am sorry. But you know that youremployer is master here. Who am I to forbid him entrance?" The girlwent away silently, abashed, and the Princess sat quite still, tappingthe brush against the table. 

"They do not want me to sign another treaty, do they?" her fatherasked timidly. "It appears to me they are always signing treaties, andI cannot see that any good comes of it. And I would have won the lastgame, Katharine, if Malise had not interrupted us. You know I wouldhave won. "

"Yes, Father, you would have won. Oh, he must not see you!" Katharinecried, a great tide of love mounting in her breast, the love thatdraws a mother fiercely to shield her backward boy. "Father, will younot go into your chamber? I have a new book for you, Father--allpictures, dear. Come--" She was coaxing him when Sire Henry appearedin the doorway. 

"But I do not wish to look at pictures, " Charles said, peevishly; "Iwish to play cards. You are an ungrateful daughter, Katharine. You arenever willing to amuse me. " He sat down with a whimper and began topluck at his dribbling lips. 

Katharine had moved a little toward the door. Her face was white. "Nowwelcome, sire!" she said. "Welcome, O great conqueror, who in yourhour of triumph can find no nobler recreation than to shame a maidwith her past folly! It was valorously done, sire. See, Father; hereis the King of England come to observe how low we sit that yesterdaywere lords of France. "

"The King of England!" echoed Charles, and he rose now to his feet. "Ithought we were at war with him. But my memory is treacherous. Youperceive, brother of England, I am planning a new mouse-trap, and mymind is somewhat preëmpted. I recall now that you are in treaty for mydaughter's hand. Katharine is a good girl, a fine upstanding girl, butI suppose--" He paused, as if to regard and hear some invisiblecounsellor, and then briskly resumed: "Yes, I suppose policy demandsthat she should marry you. We trammelled kings can never go free ofpolicy--ey, my compère of England? No; it was through policy I weddedher mother; and we have been very unhappy, Isabeau and I. A word inyour ear, son-in-law: Madame Isabeau's soul formerly inhabited a sow, as Pythagoras teaches, and when our Saviour cast it out at Gadara, theinfluence of the moon drew it hither. "

Henry did not say anything. Steadily his calm blue eyes appraised DameKatharine. And King Charles went on, very knowingly:

"Oho, these Latinists cannot hoodwink me, you observe, though byordinary it chimes with my humor to appear content. Policy again, son-in-law: for once roused, I am terrible. To-day in the greathall-window, under the bleeding feet of Lazarus, I slew ten flies--very black they were, the black shrivelled souls of parricides, --andafterward I wept for it. I often weep; the Mediterranean hath itssources in my eyes, for my daughter cheats at cards. Cheats, sir!--andI her father!" The incessant peering, the stealthy cunning with whichCharles whispered this, the confidence with which he clung to hisdestroyer's hand, was that of a conspiring child. 

"Come, Father, " Katharine said. "Come away to bed, dear. "

"Hideous basilisk!" he spat at her; "dare you rebel against me? Am Inot King of France, and is it not blasphemy for a King of France to bemocked? Frail moths that flutter about my splendor, " he shrieked, inan unheralded frenzy, "beware of me, beware! for I am omnipotent! I amKing of France, Heaven's regent. At my command the winds go about theearth, and nightly the stars are kindled for my recreation. Perhaps Iam mightier than God, but I do not remember now. The reason is writtendown and lies somewhere under a bench. Now I sail for England. Eia!eia! I go to ravage England, terrible and merciless. But I must havemy mouse-traps, Goodman Devil, for in England the cats of themiddle-sea wait unfed. " He went out of the room, giggling, and in thecorridor began to sing:

 "A hundred thousand times good-bye! I go to seek the Evangelist, For here all persons cheat and lie . . . "

All this while Henry remained immovable, his eyes fixed uponKatharine. Thus (she meditated) he stood among Frenchmen; he was theboulder, and they the waters that babbled and fretted about him. Butshe turned and met his gaze squarely. She noted now for the first timehow oddly his left eyebrow drooped. Katharine said: "And that is theking whom you have conquered! Is it not a notable conquest to overcomeso wise a king? to pilfer renown from an idiot? There are cut-throatsin Troyes, rogues doubly damned, who would scorn the action. Now shallI fetch my mother, sire? the commander of that great army which youovercame? As the hour is late, she is by this time tipsy, but she willcome. Or perhaps she is with some paid lover, but if this conqueror, this second Alexander, wills it she will come. O God!" the girlwailed, on a sudden; "O just and all-seeing God! are not we of Valoisso contemptible that in conquering us it is the victor who is shamed?"

"Flower of the marsh!" he said, and his voice pulsed with tendercadences--"flower of the marsh! it is not the King of England who nowcomes to you, but Alain the harper. Henry Plantagenet God has ledhither by the hand to punish the sins of this realm, and to reign init like a true king. Henry Plantagenet will cast out the Valois fromthe throne they have defiled, as Darius cast out Belshazzar, for suchis the desire and the intent of God. But to you comes Alain theharper, not as a conqueror but as a suppliant, --Alain who has lovedyou whole-heartedly these two years past, and who now kneels beforeyou entreating grace. "

Katharine looked down into his countenance, for to his speech he hadfitted action. Suddenly and for the first time she understood that hebelieved France to be his by Divine favor and Heaven's peculiarintervention. He thought himself God's factor, not His rebel. He wasrather stupid, this huge, handsome, squinting boy; and as shecomprehended this, her hand went to his shoulder, half maternally. 

"It is nobly done, sire. But I understand. You must marry me in orderto uphold your claim to France. You sell, and I with my body purchase, peace for France. There is no need of a lover's posture when huckstersmeet. "

"So changed!" he said, and he was silent for an interval, stillkneeling. Then he began: "You force me to point out that I do not needany pretext for holding France. France lies before me prostrate. ByGod's singular grace I reign in this fair kingdom, mine by right ofconquest, and an alliance with the house of Valois will neither makenor mar me. " She was unable to deny this, unpalatable as was the fact. "But I love you, and therefore as man wooes woman I sue to you. Do younot understand that there can be between us no question of expediency?Katharine, in Chartres orchard there met a man and a maid we know of;now in Troyes they meet again, --not as princess and king, but as manand maid, the wooer and the wooed. Once I touched your heart, I think. And now in all the world there is one thing I covet--to gain for thepoor king some portion of that love you would have squandered on theharper. " His hand closed upon her hand. 

At his touch the girl's composure vanished. "My lord, you woo tootimidly for one who comes with many loud-voiced advocates. I amdaughter to the King of France, and next to my soul's salvation Iesteem the welfare of France. Can I, then, fail to love the King ofEngland, who chooses the blood of my countrymen as a judicious garb tocome a-wooing in? How else, since you have ravaged my native land, since you have besmirched the name I bear, since yonder afield everywound in my dead and yet unburied Frenchmen is to me a mouth whichshrieks your infamy?"

He rose. "And yet, for all that, you love me. "

She could not at the first effort find words with which to answer him, but presently she said, quite simply, "To see you lying in your coffinI would willingly give up my hope of heaven, for heaven can afford nosight more desirable. "

"You loved Alain. "

"I loved the husk of a man. You can never comprehend how utterly Iloved him. "

"You are stubborn. I shall have trouble with you. But this notion ofyours is plainly a mistaken notion. That you love me is indisputable, and this I propose to demonstrate. You will observe that I am quiteunarmed except for this dagger, which I now throw out of thewindow--" with the word it jangled in the courtyard below. "I am inTroyes alone among some thousand Frenchmen, any one of whom wouldwillingly give his life for the privilege of taking mine. You have butto sound the gong beside you, and in a few moments I shall be a deadman. Strike, then! For with me dies the English power in France. Strike, Katharine! If you see in me but the King of England. "

She was rigid; and his heart leapt when he saw it was because ofterror. 

"You came alone! You dared!"

He answered, with a wonderful smile, "Proud spirit! How else might Iconquer you?"

"You have not conquered!" Katharine lifted the baton beside the gong, poising it. God had granted her prayer--to save France. Now the pastand the ignominy of the past might be merged in Judith's nobler guilt. But I must tell you that in the supreme hour, Destiny at her beck, hermain desire was to slap the man for his childishness. Oh, he had noright thus to besot himself with adoration! This dejection at her feetof his high destiny awed her, and pricked her, too, with her inabilityto understand him. Angrily she flung away the baton. "Go! Ah, go!" shecried, like one strangling. "There has been enough of bloodshed, and Imust spare you, loathing you as I do, for I cannot with my own handmurder you. "

But the King was a kindly tyrant, crushing independence from hisassociates as lesser folk squeeze water from a sponge. "I cannot gothus. Acknowledge me to be Alain, the man you love, or else strikeupon the gong. "

"You are cruel!" she wailed, in her torture. 

"Yes, I am cruel. "

Katharine raised straining arms above her head in a hard gesture ofdespair. "You have conquered. You know that I love you. Oh, if I couldfind words to voice my shame, to shriek it in your face, I couldbetter endure it! For I love you. With all my body and heart and soulI love you. Mine is the agony, for I love you! and presently I shallstand quite still and see little Frenchmen scramble about you ashounds leap about a stag, and afterward kill you. And after that Ishall live! I preserve France, but after I have slain you, Henry, Imust live. Mine is the agony, the enduring agony. " She stayedmotionless for an interval. "God, God! Let me not fail!" Katharinebreathed; and then: "O fair sweet friend, I am about to commit a vileaction, but it is for the sake of the France that I love next to God. As Judith gave her body to Holofernes, I crucify my heart for thepreservation of France. " Very calmly she struck upon the gong. 

If she could have found any reproach in his eyes during the ensuingsilence, she could have borne it; but there was only love. And withall that, he smiled like one who knew the upshot of this matter. 

A man-at-arms came into the room. "Germain--" said Katharine, and thenagain, "Germain--" She gave a swallowing motion and was silent. Whenshe spoke it was with crisp distinctness. "Germain, fetch a harp. Messire Alain here is about to play for me. "

At the man's departure she said: "I am very pitiably weak. Need youhave dragged my soul, too, in the dust? God heard my prayer, and youhave forced me to deny His favor, as Peter denied Christ. My dear, bevery kind to me, for I come to you naked of honor. " She fell at theKing's feet, embracing his knees. "My master, be very kind to me, forthere remains only your love. "

He raised her to his breast. "Love is enough, " he said. 

She was conscious, as he held her thus, of the chain mail under hisjerkin. He had come armed; he had his soldiers no doubt in thecorridor; he had tricked her, it might be from the first. But that didnot matter now. 

"Love is enough, " she told her master docilely. 

Next day the English entered Troyes and in the cathedral church thesetwo were betrothed. Henry was there magnificent in a curious suit ofburnished armor; in place of his helmet-plume he wore a fox-brushornamented with jewels, which unusual ornament afforded great matterof remark among the busybodies of both armies. 

THE END OF THE TENTH NOVEL

THE EPILOGUE

 "Et je fais sçavoir à tous lecteurs de ce Livret que les choses que je dis avoir vues et sues sont enregistrés icy, afin que vous pouviez les regarder selon vostre bon sens, s'il vous plaist. "

HERE IS APPENDED THE EPILOGUE THAT MESSIRE NICOLAS DE CAEN AFFIXED TOTHE BOOK WHICH HE HAD MADE ACCORDING TO THE BEST OF HIS ABILITY; ANDWHICH (IN CONSEQUENCE) HE DARED NOT APPRAISE. 

_The Epilogue_

_A Son Livret_

Intrepidly depart, my little book, into the presence of that mostillustrious lady who bade me compile you. Bow down before herjudgment. And if her sentence be that of a fiery death, I counsel younot to grieve at what cannot be avoided. 

But, if by any miracle that glorious, strong fortress of the weakconsider it advisable that you remain unburned, pass thence, my littlebook, to every man who may desire to purchase you, and live out yourlittle hour among these very credulous persons; and at your appointedseason perish and be forgotten. Thus may you share your betters' fate, and be at one with those famed comedies of Greek Menander and all thepoignant songs of Sappho. _Et quid Pandoniae_--thus, little book, Icharge you to poultice your more-merited oblivion--_quid Pandoniaerestat nisi nomen Athenae?_

Yet even in your brief existence you may chance to meet with those whowill affirm that the stories you narrate are not true and protestassertions which are only fables. To these you will reply that I, yourmaker, was in my youth the quite unworthy servant of the most high andnoble lady, Dame Jehane, and in this period, at and about her house ofHavering-Bower, conversed in my own person with Dame Katharine, thenhappily remarried to a private gentleman of Wales; and so obtained thematter of the ninth story and of the tenth authentically. You will sayalso that Messire de Montbrison afforded me the main matter of thesixth and seventh stories, and many of the songs which this bookcontains; and that, moreover, I once journeyed to Caer Idion andtalked for some two hours with Richard Holland (whom I found a veryold and garrulous and cheery person), and got of him the matter of theeighth tale in this dizain, together with much information as concernsthe sixth and the seventh. And you will add that the matter of thefourth and fifth tales was in every detail related to me by my mostillustrious mistress, Madame Isabella of Portugal, who had thisinformation from her mother, an equally veracious and immaculate lady, and one that was in youth Dame Philippa's most dear associate. For therest you must admit, unwillingly, the first three stories in this bookto be a thought less solidly confirmed; although (as you will say)even in these histories I have not ever deviated from what was at oddtimes narrated to me by the aforementioned persons, and have alwaysendeavored honestly to piece together that which they told me. 

I have pieced together these tales about the women who intermarried, not very enviably, with the demon-tainted blood of Edward Longshanks, because it seems to me that these tales, when they are rightlyconsidered, compose the initial portion of a troubling history. Whether (as some declare) the taint came from Manuel of Poictesme, orwhether (as yet others say) this poison was inherited from the demonwife whom Foulques Plantagenet fetched out of hell, the blood in thesemen was not all human. These men might not tread equally with humanbeings: their wives suffered therefor, just as they that had inheritedthis blood suffered therefor, and all England suffered therefor. Andthe upshot of it I have narrated elsewhere, in the book called andentitled _The Red Cuckold_, which composes the final portion of thishistory, and tells of the last spilling and of the extinction of thisblood. 

Also, my little book, you will encounter more malignant people whowill jeer at you, and will say that you and I have cheated them ofyour purchase-money. To these you will reply, with Plutarch, _Non miaurum posco, nec mi pretium_. Secondly you will say that, ofnecessity, the tailor cuts the coat according to his cloth; and thathe cannot undertake to robe an Ephialtes or a towering Orion suitablywhen the resources of his shop amount to only a few yards of cambric. Indeed had I the power to make you better, my little book, I wouldhave exercised that power to the utmost. A good conscience is acontinual feast, and I summon high Heaven to be my witness that had Ibeen Homer you had awed the world, another Iliad. I lament yourinability to do this, as heartily as any person living; yet Heavenwilled it; and it is in consequence to Heaven these aforementionedcavillers should rightfully complain. 

So to such impious people do you make no answer at all, unless indeedyou should elect to answer them by repetition of this song which I nowmake for you, my little book, at your departure from me. And the songruns in this fashion:

 Depart, depart, my book! and live and die Dependent on the idle fantasy Of men who cannot view you, quite, as I. 

 For I am fond, and willingly mistake My book to be the book I meant to make, And cannot judge you, for that phantom's sake. 

 Yet pardon me if I have wrought too ill In making you, that never spared the will To shape you perfectly, and lacked the skill. 

 Ah, had I but the power, my book, then I Had wrought in you some wizardry so high That no man but had listened . . . 

 They pass by, And shrug--as we, who know that unto us It has been granted never to fare thus, And never to be strong and glorious. 

 Is it denied me to perpetuate What so much loving labor did create?-- I hear Oblivion tap upon the gate, And acquiesce, not all disconsolate. 

 For I have got such recompense Of that high-hearted excellence Which the contented craftsman knows, Alone, that to loved labor goes, And daily does the work he chose, And counts all else impertinence!

EXPLICIT DECAS REGINARUM