Kitabı oku: «The Court Jester», sayfa 10

As if realizing the force of this argument, the man made no reply, and another said, "It will do no harm to search him at any rate, for if it should be the emperor's secretary, he may be bearing important despatches."

Still putting a bold front on the affair, Philibert leaped to the ground. "Search me, if you like," said he, "and get it over as soon as possible, for I must be on my way." The soldiers searched thoroughly, but of course found no papers, and the youth appreciated the wisdom of the emperor in sending a verbal message to the doge. His cap they merely glanced into and restored to him, so the precious ring was safe. He remounted his horse, even before he received permission to do so, and the soldier who had first spoken to him said sneeringly, "Go, gentle youth, you are too girlish to do any harm."

Considering the danger he was in, the secretary should have ridden away without another word, but this contemptuous remark kindled his indignation to such a heat that he forgot all prudence, and crying, "How do you like this from a 'girlish' hand?" he struck the speaker full across the face with the flat of his sword, leaving a mark that would be noticeable for some time to come, and putting spurs to his horse, he dashed past the other men and galloped away. Some of the men roared with laughter, but he who had been struck rushed for his horse, mounted it and endeavored to give chase, but Philibert had the advantage of an earlier start and a swifter horse, and though a shot came flying after him, it cut the limb of a tree above his head and he escaped unharmed.

The journey to Venice at this time involved days of wearisome riding, but he met with no further adventure and in due course of time arrived there in safety. The Queen of the Adriatic seemed like a fairy city when the young Savoyard first beheld it. Its palaces of beauteous tints, its waters like molten gold in the rays of the setting sun, its gondolas with their picturesque rowers, its fair women leaning against their silken cushions as they glided on the Grand Canal, and with it all the tinkling of lutes and voices of sweetest melody floating on the soft breeze, invested the scene with a charm which was like that of a beautiful dream from which he feared to awaken.

The doge's palace, with its white and red marble walls, its cloisters and great balconied windows, was reached at last, and Philibert's request, accompanied by the ring, to see the doge himself, admitted him to the presence of that haughty individual, who carefully listened to the message, not one word of which the secretary had forgotten, and gravely replied that the answer would be given later, as the matter was one that required serious reflection and consultation with his advisers, who never decided in haste.

So Philibert had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with this attractive city, and he stepped into his gondola once more, anxious to become one of the merry throng and to make the most of his spare time.

Many glances of curiosity and interest were cast by the Venetian ladies at the handsome young stranger, who, in his own mind, was comparing them, to their great disadvantage, to a certain princess far off in the imperial palace of Vienna.

When the reply of the doge was handed to him on the following morning, Philibert lost no time, but departed at once, as became a trusted messenger, though it was with regret that he turned his back upon Venice and its many attractions. Nothing of moment occurred on the return journey, and although the emperor was not pleased with the answer he received, for the Venetians flatly refused their aid, still the reply prevented a certain move he had planned, and was most timely.

Maximilian complimented his young secretary upon the fidelity and care with which he had accomplished his errand. Praise from such a source was most gratifying to its recipient, although he felt that it was not altogether deserved. He had been careless at the outset, and in his code of honor it was almost as bad to act as to tell a lie. He had regretted the falsehoods he had been obliged to tell the Florentine soldiers, but in that case not only his own life, but a matter of vital importance to a nation was at stake. Now, however, he resolved not to accept in silence compliments that were not his due.

"I was not altogether faithful, your Majesty," said he. "I was careless at first; I went away and forgot the ring and lost at least five hours' time in returning for it."

"How did it happen that I knew nothing of your return?" asked the emperor, frowning.

"None knew of it, your Majesty, excepting Le Glorieux, who would not betray me even to you, and one poor soldier who was not sufficiently familiar with my face to recognize me."

"I seem to be blessed with capable sentinels," observed Maximilian sarcastically.

"Your sentinels are not afraid of flesh and blood, your Majesty; they fear only the supernatural." Then the secretary told the whole story of his masquerade as Il Capitano, not without many misgivings as to the result of the revelation.

The emperor scowled at first, then he began to laugh, and the more he thought about it the louder he laughed, for after all the messenger had done what he was sent to do, and that better than most could have done in his place, so why not enjoy the humorous side of it, now that it was all over and done with? And as hearty laughter and punishment never go hand in hand, Philibert felt that he was forgiven.

"But I find it hard to forgive you," he afterward said to Le Glorieux, "for taking it for granted that I was a coward before giving me an opportunity to explain."

"When a man who has been sent on a dangerous journey is found some time after he is supposed to have started, snugly hidden under his own bed, it looks, to say the least, somewhat suspicious," replied the fool. "How was I to know that you had dressed up and were capering about in a masquerade?"

The young man smiled. "Perhaps you had reason to believe as you did, for appearances were against me," said he. Then after a thoughtful pause he said, "My good Le Glorieux, that was not the first time you had seen me masquerading. Do you remember Saint Monica and the accusation of Cimburga?"

"Do I remember it? Does a man ever forget a thing like that?" asked the jester.

"Le Glorieux, did it never occur to you that I was Saint Monica on that occasion?"

"You! Are you out of your mind, my lad?"

"My friend," said Philibert, "I did not think that the saint would move, and I was anxious to have the girl's innocence proven."

"Why should you have been anxious about the girl?" asked the fool.

"Because I had heard a prayer that I wanted answered. I saw the Lady Marguerite kneeling in the chapel before the altar, and in her clear, sweet voice she was praying for Cimburga, who she believed was innocent. I, too, believed in her innocence, for I had learned something about my cousin's nervous ways, and had made up my mind that she had lost the jewel in some other manner. I slipped some gray, colorless drapery from the housekeeper's room, and removing the statue from the pedestal, which was not difficult to do, I arrayed myself and played the part. There was, I imagine, a good deal of difference between my appearance and that of the saint, but every one was too agitated to notice it. And as the girl was really clear of all blame in the matter, who knows but that the saint helped her in another way, and, knowing that her wooden image could not move, put it into my head to do as I did?"

"And I called you a carp!" exclaimed the jester.

CHAPTER XI
THE LADY MARGUERITE IS VERY BRAVE

The campaign in Italy at this time proved to be a failure, and the emperor returned with his troops to Austria.

"I have always thought I should like to ride through the streets with a laurel wreath on my brow and hear the people screeching with delight at the very sight of me," said Le Glorieux, "but I always happen to be on the other side when a victory is won."

Being sent to attend to some matters for his royal master, Philibert was detained for a week in the Tyrol, and when he arrived at the palace in Vienna the first person he met was one of his cousin's women, who told him that her mistress wished to speak to him at once.

The Lady Clotilde had changed not at all during her stay in Austria, and she received her young kinsman with a relaxation of her usual dignity that surprised him. "My dear Philibert," she said, kissing him upon both cheeks, "I congratulate you upon your improved prospects."

"My improved prospects? Has the emperor – "

"Oh, no, the emperor has nothing to do with what I am speaking of. Of course, death is a terrible thing, but people must die, and even if we wish they could be spared, it makes no difference."

"My dear cousin," said Philibert patiently, "will you not tell me who is dead and why I should be congratulated?"

"Who should it be, you thoughtless boy, but the Duke of Savoy, and your father was the heir to the title. You are the future Duke of Savoy! You are a personage of importance!" and she kissed him again. "Think of what a fine marriage you may now make!"

Philibert blushed at her words, but his eyes shone with a new light. "I had not heard of our new dignity," he said. "I shall doubtless find a letter when I go to my room."

"And, my dear boy, I have news of my own to tell you," went on the Lady Clotilde, simpering. "I suppose I should have waited until your return, and I should have notified my other relatives, but I always was so romantic. Philibert, I have married again."

"What!" cried the young man, in amazement.

"I do not see why you are so surprised," she returned coldly. "You could not seem more astonished if you had seen a ghost. Why should I not marry if I feel so inclined?"

"Why not, indeed? I beg your pardon, Cousin. Who is the happy man?"

"It is the Spanish attaché, Don Geronimo Bartolomeo Zurriago y Escafusa," she returned, saying the long name with a good deal of pride. "He owns an estate in his own country to which he would have returned long ago if – well, if there had not been attractions at the court of Austria."

"I hope you will be very happy, Cousin," said Philibert, excusing himself as soon as it was possible, for he wanted to be alone and think of all that his new dignity might bring to him.

Leaving the Lady Clotilde's apartment, he met Le Glorieux, who was bubbling over with news. "So many things have happened, even in the week since we returned," said the jester, "that it seems to me it will take a week to repeat them. In the first place, Clotilde is married."

"So she has just informed me."

"When I heard it," went on the jester, "I was so surprised that it almost made me ill. But the people who marry, and especially the other people they select to marry, is a mystery I never could solve."

"The Lady Marguerite is well, I hope?" asked Philibert.

"Yes, and happy and fair as a flower, and her stepmother is still high-tempered and fond of shellfish. But that is not news. First I will begin with Antoine. He has distinguished himself greatly in the way of singing, and the emperor has made him one of his own musicians. And the rascal, who has grown wonderfully during the last few months, is almost as tall as I am, and he is very proud of his new uniform. And next, great doings have been going on in our negotiations with Spain! As I remarked to you once before, if you will remember, our friend Manuel works quietly, but he works hard."

"What do you mean?" asked the secretary, turning pale. "You do not mean that she is going to Spain?"

"If you will not use names, of course I can not be expected to know about whom you are talking," replied the fool. "But a certain 'she' is coming from Spain. The Princess Juana is coming with a great fleet to be the daughter-in-law of Maximilian and the wife of the Archduke Philip."

"You do not mean to tell me that all this has been planned in a week?" asked Philibert, with a sigh of relief.

"No, it has been going on for some time, but we have only known about it within the last week. You see, even his secretary does not see all the letters Max receives and sends away. But there is still more to tell you."

"What, more?" laughed his listener.

"Yes, and most important of all. Cunegunda has been crying her eyes almost out."

"Do you call that news?"

"No, I do not know that I can call that part of it news. The very first thing that woman did when she saw me was to burst into tears," went on the jester in an injured tone. "I appeal to you, I appeal to any man, if there is anything mournful in my appearance? If I went about clothed in crape I could not have a sadder effect upon her than I do in my jester's suit. She said she was crying because she was afraid something was going to happen, and the next day when I saw her she cried because it had happened. You see she had lost no time, but had begun to weep in good season."

"I wonder if you have heard my news, – that my father has succeeded to the dukedom of Savoy?" asked the other as the jester paused.

"Yes, I have heard it, my boy, and I congratulate you with all my heart," said the fool hastily. "It is a fine inheritance, and one day you will be Philibert the Second, Duke of Savoy. Accept my felicitations."

"Thank you. And you see, Le Glorieux, there is quite a difference between the heir of the Count de Bresse and the heir of the duke of a wealthy province, and I feel that I can hope – well, I can hope for almost anything."

"Hope," said the jester gravely, "is one of the finest things in this world, and I wish we all had more of it. But you have not asked me what made Cunegunda weep."

"No," said Philibert absently, as one whose mind is traveling far afield; "what did make Cunegunda weep?"

"Because," replied the jester, "she has the narrowest mind of any woman living."

"And she is only beginning to find it out?" asked the other, laughing.

"Oh, she has not found it out, and never will, though I have known it from the beginning of our acquaintance. Now I ask you, why should not Spain be a good country to live in? There are flowers and palaces and oranges and bull-fights and everything to make a man or woman comfortable, and there are plenty of new friends, I dare say, if one cares to make them; still that woman is drowned in tears because she must go there, as if it were purgatory."

"Why must she go to Spain if she does not care to do so?" asked Philibert.

"Because she will not leave her young mistress," replied the fool deliberately.

"You do not mean – "

"Yes, I do mean just that. As I have said before, Manuel has worked hard, and the same fleet that brings the Spanish infanta to our shores will take away our own little princess to be the bride of the young Prince of the Asturias, only son of Ferdinand and Isabella, and heir to the kingdoms of Castile, and Leon, and Aragon, and I can not tell how many other countries. And I am going with her, and so is the weeping Cunegunda, and a large suite of ladies and gentlemen." And thus chattering, and without casting another glance at Philibert de Bresse, heir to the dukedom of Savoy, the jester left the room.

The Lady Marguerite, who had grown still more fair to look upon during his absence, received Philibert with a cordial greeting, and with a word of congratulation upon his new dignity, as future ruler of Savoy.

He replied, "You are very kind, your Highness, but in a world full of sorrow and disappointment, rank and wealth are of little account."

"You speak as mournfully as one who is about to become a monk," she returned in a tone of surprise.

"Such a step on my part is not improbable, your Highness," was the reply.

Some days later, the princess said to Le Glorieux, "Philibert de Bresse has not been the same since his return from Italy. What spell was cast over him in that country?"

"Almost any question can be solved," said the jester, with a wise look, "if one will sit down and think it out quietly. I have wondered for a long time why the climate of Austria has agreed so well with Clotilde, and I find that it was all owing to Don Geronimo Bartolomeo Zurriago y Escafusa. Is it not wonderful how well I recollect that name? And the beauty of it is that once learned I shall never forget it."

"What has all that to do with Philibert de Bresse?" asked the princess.

"That has nothing to do with him, of course; I am simply leading up to him. This is what I have figured out for Philibert. Of course he knows that he must marry some time; few men can escape matrimony. When he was plain future Count de Bresse he had a wider selection of ladies with whom he might wed. Now that he is the future Duke of Savoy, there is a smaller number from whom he may choose; for, though I never could see the justice of it, there always is more milk than there is cream."

"He is very young to be thinking of such things," said Marguerite coldly.

"When you come to age, he is no younger than your noble brother, who is to wed the Princess Juana; or the young heir of Spain, who is to wed a certain princess of my acquaintance, a lady not quite sixteen. Let us suppose that Philibert had his mind fixed upon some maiden, who was in his own rank when he was simply to be a count, then, suddenly, he pops up into the circle of dukes, where he must look down upon her. It is enough to make any man gloomy."

"Sometimes you talk in a very sensible manner, Le Glorieux," said the Lady Marguerite, frowning, "but to-day you speak nothing but nonsense." And she walked away with her head held high as was always the case when she was out of temper.

Looking after her slender figure as it disappeared through an archway, the jester muttered to himself, "Not to contradict a princess of the blood royal, I want to say that I never was more sensible than I am at this very moment."

One summer day a gallant armada set sail for the coast of Flanders. It consisted of one hundred and thirty fine vessels, and it was manned by hundreds of sailors; it carried the chivalry of Spain, and it was commanded by the Admiral of Castile. Never had so beautiful a fleet sailed from the Spanish coast, for it brought to Philip of Flanders, the son of Maximilian, his bride, the Infanta Juana.

The people were eager to see the bride of their prince, but if they had expected a beauty, they were disappointed. Juana was pale and delicate in appearance, and, as a French writer of the time expresses it, "a somber fire seemed to burn in her eyes."

"We shall send Spain a far handsomer bride than she sent to us," said Le Glorieux exultantly.

The wedding of Philip and Juana took place in Lille with great pomp and ceremony, and the fleet waited, for it was to take another royal bride on its return trip! But many of the vessels needed repairs after their stormy voyage, and it was some time before they were ready to sail.

Philibert de Bresse, in the meantime, had received news of the death of his father; and, taking leave of his friends at court, he returned to his own country, of which he was now the ruler.

A little princess saying farewell to her parents to go to a strange land where she must remain as long as she lives, is one of the pathetic sides of history; but Marguerite, although very sad at the thought of leaving her adored father, endeavored to be resigned and even cheerful. Before the day of her departure there came a messenger from Savoy with a little packet for the princess. It contained a locket in which was set in diamonds and emeralds an edelweiss, accompanied by the following words, "The name of this flower signifies 'noble purity,' a fitting gift for this fair daughter of the Hapsburgs."

After all Marguerite was little more than a child, and she could not but look forward with pleasure to the coming voyage, since if one must leave one's native land, it is good to sail away with a splendid fleet. But Cunegunda was inclined to take a gloomy view of the coming journey. "When you travel by land," said she, "you may be killed, of course, but even in that case, you are there in plain view and can be seen; but if you are drowned, why, where are you?"

"In the bottom of the sea, where you are every bit as comfortable as you would be on land, if you were dead," said Le Glorieux.

"It is a very dangerous trip, and I weep whenever I think of it," said the good woman.

"You weep when you do not think of it, so what difference does it make?" asked the jester. Brutus, who now was full grown and a hound of extraordinary intelligence, looked at Le Glorieux and wagged his tail, as if fully approving of this sentiment. "It is true, is it not, my friend Brutus, that Cunegunda never misses a chance to cry?" asked the fool, patting the dog's head.

"I know something that will make you cry," said Cunegunda maliciously.

"You could not make me cry, my good lady," replied he. "Think of all for which I have to be thankful: I am still young, I am handsome, I am going to Spain, the land of bull-fights, flowers, and oranges. My little princess is going to marry one of the finest princes of his time, and we shall all be happy, even you, for wherever you are you can always find something to cry about; and weeping is your favorite occupation."

"The Lady Clotilde is going to Spain with us," said Cunegunda slyly.

"You do not mean it!" exclaimed the jester, considerably dismayed.

"But I do mean it. You might have known that her husband would some time take her to his native country."

"Yes, but not at this time," cried the fool excitedly. "Why must she go on this particular voyage? Why is it always convenient for Clotilde to start out just as I am going? She will miss some article that she owns, and every ship will have to be searched for it. Is it not strange the way things come about in this world?" he continued complainingly. "I love that little rascal of an Antoine, and he is to remain here. I am fond of Pandora and Pittacus, though they always treat me with cold indifference, and they must be left behind; but Clotilde, whom I would gladly spare, goes with me!"

With this double marriage Austria was making a precious gift to Spain – she was giving the great possessions of the Hapsburgs, but the fairest gift of all was the young princess, whose departure drew out a great concourse of people. With flags flying and pennons waving, the ships were waiting, the largest and the handsomest for the Lady Marguerite and her suite. The picture of the princess that remained in the memory of those who saw her on that day was a slight, graceful figure standing where the sunlight shone full on her sweet young face, and with one hand resting on the head of her hound.

Then the great fleet fluttered away like a flight of huge butterflies, skimming southward.

"I do not see why I should feel so melancholy," said Le Glorieux, going inside and sitting with his head on his hands and his elbows on his knees. "Austria was not my native country; I was born in old Burgundy, and it is too late to be sniveling at parting from Burgundy. It is because I have parted with that little villain of an Antoine that I am like this. When I saw the little wretch smiling at me from the shore, and waving his hand and blinking his eyes, as if he were trying to keep back the tears, what must this tough old heart of mine do but climb right into my throat and try to choke me to death. A heart that has served me well for all these years to play me a trick like that!"

"Will you please rise?" said a cold metallic voice at his elbow. Glancing up Le Glorieux beheld Don Geronimo, the husband of the Lady Clotilde. The jester's gaze traveled up the tall, thin form of the Spaniard until it reached his face, which was dark and reminded the fool of tanned leather.

"There being no particular reason why I should rise, I shall not rise until it pleases me to do so," said he.

"Permit my servant to take those cushions which are beneath you," said Don Geronimo icily. "You are sitting on a whole pile of them. They are wanted for my wife, the Doña Clotilde, who is overcome."

"I will give anything to any lady at any time," said the fool, rising, "but I should like to know what has overcome your lady wife so soon."

"Parting from her friends," replied the Spaniard, following his man, who was loaded down with cushions.

"She did not care as much for the whole of Austria and Flanders as I cared for that miserable little Antoine," grumbled the fool; "yet she must be packed away in cushions that are jerked from under my very body to make her comfortable. And our princess is so bravely bearing the parting from her father, and is giving no trouble whatever! Any one would think it is Clotilde who is being sent away in such state by Austria."

The first day out it seemed as if the voyage was to be a calm and safe one. When the novelty of gazing at the blue waters had worn off, the princess and her ladies took their embroidery frames and passed their time with their needles, laughing and chattering together. As soon as she had ceased to be overcome, the Lady Clotilde joined them. When the conversation turned to the perils of the ocean, she declared that she, for one, did not fear them, being a true representative of a family that knew no fear. She related a number of incidents when, according to her story, she had stood within the very jaws of death without the slightest thrill of fear.

Le Glorieux, who was sitting at the feet of his young mistress playing with the silk-and-gold threads of her embroidery, remarked, "That is because you spend so much of your time in pious reading, Cousin Clotilde. Did you bring with you the silver book about the saints?"

The princess tried to frown at him, but he saw the twinkle of a smile under her long, dark lashes.

But these were the last peaceful hours they spent for many days. In the darkness of the night the storm demon came forth, shrieking in the wind, and beating the waves into fury, holding the ships a trembling instant on the crest of the wave, then dashing them into the trough of the sea, sending some of them down to destruction.

Half dressed, the passengers of the Lady Marguerite's ship rushed out into the salon. They forgot that they were the great ones of the earth and that to them had been given the honor of escorting a princess to her bridegroom. They knelt on the floor, and moaned, and told their beads, just as so many peasants might have done.

The Lady Marguerite was calm, though very pale; close beside her stood Le Glorieux, self-possessed, but no longer jesting. "If the good God is ready to take me now, I could not have a happier death than to go down with my little princess," said he.

Cunegunda held her lady's hand, which, forgetting her own danger, she stroked, with words of endearment, while Brutus crept to her feet, and putting his head on her lap, looked into the face of his mistress as if to say that he, too, was ready to die with her.

The storm did not abate with the approach of day, nor did it cease the next day, nor for many days, and it seemed as if their ship must be rent to pieces by the combined forces of wind and wave.

Once Le Glorieux seized Cunegunda by the shoulders and bawled into her ears, "You are always crying; cry now, when there is some reason for it." But strange to say, Cunegunda shed no tears, though the Lady Clotilde shrieked and wept continuously, seeming to forget all the traditions of her family.

When learning that a number of the vessels had been lost, and that none could tell at what moment her own ship would go down, Marguerite put certain jewels on her fingers, neck, and arms that had long been in the possession of the house of Hapsburg. "The body of a princess is not different from that of a peasant," she said to her faithful attendants, "and it may be that the fury of the storm will spare me some of these jewels; so that if I am washed ashore I shall be identified." Then she smiled to keep up the courage of the others and said, "It seems that with all the planning of nations I am never to be a wife."

Then taking a slip of paper she wrote upon it two lines, which she wrapped in a piece of oiled silk and fastened to her bracelet. These lines, written in French, may be translated as follows, "Here lies Marguerite, a noble maiden, who, though given two husbands, died a maid."

But even a storm at sea can not last for ever, and the stout ship, being mercifully spared, arrived at last with the remainder of the fleet in safety at the port of Santander.