Under the Rose Part 13

Regaining his composure at once, the king's guest bent his heavy brows over his deep-set eyes, and deliberately surveyed the fool.

"And now," went on the jester, gaily, "it is in your mind I am like as suddenly to--disappear! Am I at fault?"

"On the contrary, you are unusually clear-witted," was the answer.

"Oh, my Lord, you over-estimate my poor capacity!" returned the n.o.bleman's unasked caller with a deprecatory gesture.

The hands of the other worked impatiently; his herculean figure blocked the doorway. "You are a merry fellow!" he observed. "It is to be regretted, but--confess you have brought it upon yourself?"

"What? My fate? Oh, yes!" And he indifferently regarded the wand and the wooden figure upon it, without moving from the chair.

"You have no fear?" questioned the duke, quietly.

"Fear? Why should I?"

Yawning, the fool stretched his arms, looking not at the n.o.bleman, but beyond him, and, instinctively, the princess' betrothed peered over his shoulder in the semi-darkness behind, while his hand quickly sought his sword.

"Fie, most n.o.ble Duke!" exclaimed the jester. "We have no eavesdroppers or interlopers, believe me! We are entirely alone, you and I--master and fool. There; come no nearer, I beg!" As the n.o.bleman menacingly moved toward him.

"Have you any argument to advance, Sir Fool, why I should not?" said the other, grimly, a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt depicted on his broad face as he paused the while.

"An argument, sharp as a needle, somewhat longer!" replied the jester, touching his breast and drawing from between the folds of his doublet a shining hilt.

Harsh and loud laughed the king's guest. "You fool," he said, "you had your opportunity below there in the hall and missed it. You hesitated, went blindly another course, and now"--with ominous meaning--"you are here!"

Upon the stick a candle dripped, sputtered and went out; the jester bent forward and with the copper snuffer on the table near by deftly trimmed the remaining light.

"Only fools fight in darkness," he remarked, quietly, "and here is but one of them."

"You pit yourself and that--plaything!--against me?" asked the burly soldier, derisively.

"Have you hunted the wild boar, my Lord?" lightly answered the other.

"How mighty it is! How savage! What tusks! You know the pastime? A quick step, a sure arm, an eye like lightning--presto! your boar lies on his back, with his feet in the air! You, my Lord, are the boar; big, clumsy, brutal! Shall we begin the sport? I promise to p.r.i.c.k you with every rush."

The prospective bridegroom paused thoughtfully.

"There is some justice in what you say," he returned, his manner that of a man who has carefully weighed and considered a matter. "I confess to partiality for the thick of the fray, the brunt of the fight, where men press all around you."

"a.s.suredly, my Lord; for then the boar is in his element; no matter how he rushes, his tusks strike yielding flesh."

"Why should we fight at all--at present?" cautiously ventured the n.o.ble, with further hesitation. "Not that I doubt I could easily crush you"--extending his muscular arms--"but you _might_ p.r.i.c.k me, and, just now, discretion may be the better part of valor. I--a duke, engaged to wed a princess, have much to lose; you, nothing! A fool's stroke might kill a king."

"Or a knave, my Lord!" added the _plaisant_.

"Or a knave, sirrah!" thundered the duke, the veins starting out on his forehead.

The jester half drew his dagger; his quiet confidence and glittering eye impressed even his antagonist, inured to scenes of violence and strife.

"Is it a truce, most n.o.ble Lord?" said the fool, significantly. "A truce wherein we may call black, black; and white, white! A truce which may be broken by either of us, with due warning to the other?"

Knitting his brow, the n.o.ble stood motionless, deeply pondering, his headlong pa.s.sion evidently at combat with his judgment; then his face cleared, a hard, brusque laugh burst from his lips and he brought his fist violently down on the ma.s.sive oak table near the door.

"So be it!" he a.s.sented, with a more open look.

"A truce--without any rushes from the boar?"

"Fool! Does not my word suffice?" contemptuously retorted the duke.

"Yes; for although you are--what you are--you have been a soldier, and would not break a truce."

"Such commendation from--my jester is, indeed, flattering!" satirically remarked the king's guest, seating himself in a great chair which brought him face to face with the fool and yet commanded the door, the intruder's only means of retreat.

"Pardon me, the duke's jester, you mean?"

"Yes; mine!"

"A distinction with a difference!" retorted the fool. "It is quite true I am the duke's jester; it is equally untrue I am yours.

Therefore, we reach the conclusion that you and the duke are two different persons. Plainly, not being the duke, you are an impostor.

Have you any fault to find with my reasoning?"

"On the contrary," answered the other, with no sign of anger or surprise, "your reasoning is all that could be desired. Why should I deny what you already know? I was aware, of course, that you knew, when I first learned his jester was in the castle. Frankly, I am not the duke--to you!"

"But with Francis and the court?" suggested the fool, uplifting his brows.

"I am the duke--and such remain! You understand?"

"Perfectly, my Lord," replied the jester, shrugging his shoulders.

"But since I am not the king, nor one of the courtiers, whom, for the time being, have I the honor of addressing? But, perhaps, I am over-inquisitive."

"Not at all," said the other, with mocking ceremony. "You are a whimsical fellow; besides, I am taken with a man who stands near death without flinching. To tell you the truth, our truce is somewhat to my liking. There are few men who would have dared what you have to-night.

And although you're only a fool--will you drink with me from this bottle on the table here? I'm tired of ceremonies of rank and would clink a gla.s.s in private with a merry fellow. What say you?"

And leaning over, he filled two large goblets with the rich beverage from a great flask placed on the stand for his convenience. His face lighted with gross conviviality, but behind his jovial, free manner, that of a trooper in his cups, gleamed a furtive, guarded look, as though he were studying and testing his man.

"I'm for a free life; some fighting; but snug walls around for companionship," he continued. "Look at my soldiers now; roistering, love-making! Charles? Francis? Not one of the troop would leave me for emperor or king! Not one but would follow me--where ambition leads!" Holding up the gla.s.s, he looked into the depths of the thick burgundy. "Why, a likely fellow like you should carry a gleaming blade, not a wooden sword. I know your duke--a man of lineage--a string of t.i.tles long as my arm--an underling of the emperor, while I"--closing his great jaw firmly--"owe allegiance to no man, or monarch, which is the same thing. Drink, lad; I'm pleased I did not kill you."

"And I," laughed the _plaisant_, "congratulate myself you are still alive--for the wine is excellent!"

"Still alive!" exclaimed the king's guest, boisterously, although a dark shadow crossed his glance.

"I'm scarred from head to foot, and my hide is as tough as--"

"A boar's?" tapping his chin with the fool's head on his wand.

"Ah, you will have your jest," retorted the host of the occasion, good-naturedly. "It's bred in the bone. A quality for a soldier.

Next to courage is that fine sense of humor which makes a man a _bon camarade_. Put down your graven image, lad; you were made to carry arms, not baubles. Put it down, I say, and touch gla.s.ses with Louis, of Pfalz-Urfeld."

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.d of Hochfels!" exclaimed the jester, fixedly regarding the man whose name was known throughout Europe for his reckless bravery, his personal resources and his indomitable pride or love of freedom and independence, which held him aloof from emperor or monarch, and made him peer and leader among the many intractable spirits of the Austrian country who had not yet bowed their necks to conquest; a soldier of many battles, whose thick-walled fortress, perched picturesquely in mid-air on a steep mountain top, established his security on all sides.