Under the Rose Part 18

As the fool was about to spring upon the horse, a shadow suddenly appeared around the corner of the house and the animal danced aside in affright. Before the jester could quiet and mount the nag, the shadow resolved itself into a man, and, behind him, came a numerous band, the play of light on helmet, sword and dagger revealing them as a party of troopers. Doubtless having indulged freely, they had become inclined to new adventures, and accordingly had bent their footsteps toward the "little house on the verge of the wood," where merry company was always to be found. At the sight of the duke's fool and the horse they pressed forward, and, with one accord, surrounded him.

"The Franciscan monk!" cried one.

"Where is he going so late with the nag?" asked another.

"He's off to confess some one," exclaimed a third.

"A petticoat, most likely, the rogue!" rejoined the second speaker.

"Well, what have we to do with his love affairs?" laughed the first trooper. "Ride on, good father, and keep tryst."

"Yes, ride on!" the others called out.

The monk bowed. An interruption which had promised to defeat his designs seemed drawing to a harmless conclusion. His hopes ran high; the soldiers had not yet penetrated beneath the costume; he had already determined to leap upon the horse in a rush for freedom when a heavy, detaining hand was laid on his shoulder.

"One moment, knave!" said a deep voice, and, wheeling sharply, the fool looked into the keen, ferret eyes of the trooper with the red mustaches. "I have a question to ask. Have you done that which you were to do?"

The friar nodded his a.s.sent. "The fool will trouble the duke no more,"

he answered.

"Ah, he is"--began the soldier.

"Even so. And now pray let me pa.s.s."

"Yes; let him pa.s.s!" urged one of the soldiers. "Would you keep some longing trollop waiting?"

The leader of the troopers did not answer; his glance was bent upon the ground. "Yes, you may go," he commented, "when--" and suddenly thrust forth an arm and pulled back the enshrouding cloak.

"The duke's fool!" he cried. "Close in, rogues! Let him not escape."

Fiercely the fool's hand sought his breast; then, swiftly realizing that it needed but a pretext to bring about the end desired by the pretender in the castle, with an effort he restrained himself, and confronted his a.s.sailants, outwardly calm.

"'Tis a poor jest which fails," he said, easily.

"Jest!" grimly returned he of the red mustaches. "Call you it a jest, this monk's disguise? Once on the horse, it would have been no jest, and I'll warrant you would soon have left the castle far behind. Yes; and but for the cloven foot, the jest, as you call it, would have succeeded, too. Had it not been," he added, "for the pointed, silken shoe, peeping out from beneath the holy robe--a covering of vanity, instead of holy nakedness--you would certainly have deceived me, and"--with a brusque laugh--"slipped away from your master, the duke."

"The duke?" said the jester, as casting the now useless cloak from him, he deliberately scrutinized the rogue.

"The duke," returned the man, stolidly. "Well, this spoils our sport for to-night, knaves," he went on, turning to the other troopers, "for we must e'en escort the jester back to the castle."

"Beshrew him!" they answered, of one accord. "A plague upon him!"

And slowly the fool and the soldiers began to retrace their way across the moon-lit fields, the trooper with the red mustaches grumbling as they went: "Such luck to turn back now, with all those mad-caps right under our nose! A curse to a dry march over a dusty meadow! An unsanctified dog of a monk! 'Tis like a campaign, with naught but ditch water to drink. The devil take the friar and the jester!

Forward! the fool in the center, and those he would have fooled around him!"

And when they disappeared in the distance the gipsy woman might have been seen leaving the house by the stable door and leading in the horse.

CHAPTER XI

A NEW MESSENGER TO THE EMPEROR

Between Caillette and the duke's jester had arisen one of those friendships which spring more from similitude than unlikeness; an amity of which each had been unconscious in its inception, but which had gradually grown into a sentiment of comradeship. Caillette was of n.o.ble mien, graceful manner and elegant address; a soldier by preference; a jester against his will, forced to the office by the n.o.bleman who had cared for and educated him. In the duke's fool he had found his other self; a man who like himself lent dignity to the gentle art of jesting; who could turn a rhyme and raise a laugh without resorting to grossness.

The line of demarcation between the clown and the merry-and-wise wit was, in those days, not clearly drawn. The stories of the former, which made the matrons look down and the maidens to hide their faces, were often more appreciated by the inebriate n.o.bles than some subtile comicality or nimble lines of poetry, that would serve to take home and think over, and which improved with time like a wine of sound body.

Triboulet abused the ancient art of foolery, thought Caillette; the duke's _plaisant_ played upon it with true drollery, and as a master who has a delicate ear for an instrument, so Caillette, being sensitive to broadness or stupidity which masked as humor or pleasantry, turned naturally from the mountebank to the true jester.

Moreover, Caillette experienced a superior sadness, sifted through years of infestivity and gloom, beginning when Diane was led to the altar by the grand seneschal of Normandy, that threw an actual, albeit cynical, interest about the love-tragedy of the duke's fool which the other divined and--from his own past heart-throbs--understood. The _plaisant_ to the princess' betrothed, Caillette would have sworn, was of gentle birth; his face, manner and bearing proclaimed it; he was, also, a scholar and a poet; his courage, which Caillette divined, fitted him for the higher office of arms. Certainly, he became an interesting companion, and the French jester sought his company on every occasion. And this fellowship, or intimacy, which he courted was destined to send Caillette forth on a strange and adventuresome mission.

The day following the return of the duke's fool to the castle, Francis, who early in his reign had sought to model his life after the chivalrous romances, inaugurated a splendid and pompous tournament.

Some time before, the pursuivants had proclaimed the event and distributed to the knights who were to take active part the shields of arms of the four _juges-diseurs_, or umpires of the field. On this gala occasion the scaffolds and stands surrounding the arena were bedecked in silks of bright colors; against the cloudless sky a thousand festal flags waved and fluttered in the gentle breeze; beneath the ta.s.seled awning festoons of bright flowers embellished gorgeous hangings and tapestries.

The king rode from the castle under a pavilion of cloth of gold and purple velvet, with the letters F and R, boldly outlined, followed by ladies and courtiers, pages and attendants. Amid the shouts and huzzas of the people, the monarch and his retinue took their places in the center of the stand, the royal box hung with ornate brocades and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs.

In an inclosure of white, next to that of the king, was seated the Lady of the Tournament, the Princess Louise, and her maids of honor, arrayed all in snowy garb, and, against the garish brilliancy of the general background, a pompous pageantry of colors, the decoration of this dainty nook shone in silvery contrast. A garland of flowers was the only crown the lady wore; no other adornment had her fair shoulders save their own argent beauty, of which the fashion of the day permitted a discernible suggestion. One arm hung languorously across the railing, as she leaned forward with seeming carelessness, but intently directed her glance to the scene below, where the attendants were arranging the ring or leading the wondrously pranked-out chargers to their stalls.

Behind her, motionless as a statue, with face that looked paler, and lips the redder, and hair the blacker, stood the maid Jacqueline. If the casual glance saw first the blond head, the creamy arms and sunny blue eyes of the princess, it was apt to linger with almost a start of wonder upon the striking figure of the jestress, a nocturnal touch in a pearly picture.

"On my word, there's a decorative creature for any lord to have in his house," murmured the aged chancellor of the kingdom, sitting near the monarch. "Who is she?"

"A beggar's brat Francis found here when he took the castle," replied the beribboned spark addressed. "You know the story?"

"Yes," said the white-haired diplomat, half-sadly. "This castle once belonged to the great Constable of Dubrois. When he fell from favor the king besieged him; the constable fled and died in Spain. That much, of course, I--and the world--know. But the girl--"

"When our victorious monarch took possession of this ancient pile,"

explained the willing courtier, "the only ones left in it were an old gamekeeper and his daughter, a gipsy-like maid who ran wild in the woods. Time hath tamed her somewhat, but there she stands."

"And what sad memories of a n.o.ble but unfortunate gentleman cl.u.s.ter around her!" muttered the chancellor. "Alas, for our brief hour of triumph and favor! Yesterday was he great; I, nothing. To-day, what am I, while he--is nothing."

A great murmur, resolving itself into shouts and resounding outcry, interrupted the n.o.ble's reminiscent mood, as a thick-set figure in richly chased armor, mounted on a ma.s.sive horse, crossed the arena.

"_Bon Vouloir!_" they cried. "_Bon Vouloir!_"

It was the name a.s.sumed by the free baron for the day, while other knights were known for the time being by such euphonious and chivalrous appellations as _Vaillant Desyr_, _Bon Espoir_ or _Coeur Loyal_. _Bon Vouloir_, upon this popular demonstration, reined his steed, and, removing his head-covering, bowed reverently to the king and his suite, deeply to the Lady of the Tournament and her retinue, and carelessly to the vociferous mult.i.tude, after which he retired to a large tent of crimson and gold, set apart for his convenience and pleasure.

From the purple box the monarch had nodded graciously and from the silver bower the lady had smiled softly, so that the duke had no reason for dissatisfaction; the att.i.tude of the crowd was of small moment, an unmusical accompaniment to the potent pantomime, of which the princ.i.p.al figures were Francis, the King Arthur of Europe, and the princess, queen of beauty's unbounded realm.

In front of the duke's pavilion was hung his shield, and by its side stood his squire, fancifully dressed in rich colors. Behind ranged the men of arms, whose lances formed a fence to hold in check the people from far and wide, among whom the pick-purses, light-fingered scamps, and st.u.r.dy beggars conscientiously circulated, plying themselves a.s.siduously. The fashion of the day prescribed carrying the purse and the dagger dangling from the girdle, and many a good citizen departed from the tourney without the one and with the other, and it is needless to say which of the two articles the filcher left its owner. And none was more enthusiastic or demonstrative of the features of the lists than these rapacious riflers, who loudly cheered the merry monarch or shouted for his gallant knights, while deftly cutting purse-cords or despoiling honest country dames of brooches, clasps or other treasured articles of adornment.

Near the duke's pavilion, to the right, had been pitched a commodious tent of yellow material, with ropes of the same color, and a fool's cap crowning the pole in place of the customary banner. Over the entrance was suspended the jester's gilded wand and a staff, from which hung a blown bladder. Here were quartered the court jesters whom Francis had commanded to be fittingly attired for the lists and to take part in the general combat. In vain had Triboulet pleaded that they would occasion more merriment if a.s.signed to the king's box than doomed to the arena.

"That may be," Francis had answered, "but on this occasion all the people must witness your antics."

"Antics!" Triboulet had shuddered. "An I should be killed, your Majesty?"

"Then it will be amusing to see you quiet for once in your life," had been the laughing reply.