Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy Part 12

The frown deepened, and she turned sharply upon me: "But in what respect, pray, have I wandered? I have not spoken a word to you which has not been the exact truth. If I have left anything untold, it is because I do not wish to tell it, in which case, of course, you would not wish to pry."

Her audacity amused me, and though I knew I ought to hold my tongue, I could not resist saying:--

"I have asked no questions, Fraulein."

Yolanda cast a surprised glance toward me and then broke into a merry laugh.

"That is to say _I_ have asked too many questions. Good for you, Sir Karl! I have had the worst of this encounter. I will ask no more questions nor give you further cause to wander from the truth. Your memory, Sir Karl, is poor. 'To be a good liar, one must have a good memory,' as King Louis of France has said."

"Ask all the questions you wish, Fraulein," I responded penitently, "I will answer with the truth."

"There is no need to ask questions," she said, giving me a side glance full of sauciness. "I already know all that I wish to know."

I could not resist saying:--

"Perhaps, Fraulein, I know quite as much about you as you know about us."

"There is little to know about me that is really worth while, but what little there is I sincerely hope you do not know," she replied half angrily. "If you do know anything which I have left untold, or if, in your vanity, you think you have discovered some great mystery concerning me, I advise you to keep your supposed knowledge to yourself. The day that I am made sure you know too much, our friendship ceases, and that, Sir Karl, would give me pain. I hope it would pain you."

I at once began an orderly though hasty retreat.

"I do not know to what you refer concerning yourself," I explained. "All I know about you is that you are Fraulein Castleman, and a very charming person, whom I would have for my friend, if that be possible. I spoke but jestingly. I have often doubted that you are a burgher maiden, but there my knowledge ceases; and I am willing that it should so remain till you see fit to enlighten me."

"There is little knowledge in doubt," said Yolanda, with a nervous laugh, "though a doubt usually precedes wisdom."

Although I was looking at my horse's ears, I could see the light of her eyes as she watched me inquiringly. After a long pause she stroked her horse's mane with her whip, and said, musingly:--

"A man should seek to know only the languages, philosophy, and other useful learning. Useless knowledge has cost many a man his head."

After a long pause she turned to me with a broad smile:--

"But it is usually not dangerous so long as it does not lodge in the tongue."

I replied quickly:--

"Fraulein, when my tongue makes a fool of me, I pray G.o.d I may lose it."

"G.o.d save all fools by a like fate," she answered.

I was sure she did not mean to include me in the category of fools.

This conversation revealed to me two facts: first, I learned that by some means--possibly the ring Max wore--this girl, Yolanda, whoever she might be, knew Max. Second, I discovered in myself a dangerous propensity to talk, and of all sure roads to ruin the tongue is the surest. A man's vanity prompts him to be witty; hatred prompts him to cut his enemy, and his love of truth often prompts him to speak it at the wrong time. These three motives combined often prompt him to lose his head. Max and I were on dangerous ground, and one untimely error might make it perilous.

We travelled rapidly, and near midnight of the second day out of Metz we reached Cinq Voies on the Somme. The village, consisting of a large inn, a church, a priest's house, and a farrier's shop, is situate at the meeting of five roads, from which the hamlet takes its name. One road led down from Cambrai and Ghent in the north, one from Liege in the northeast, and the one over which we had travelled from Metz came out of the southeast. Two roads led westward to Peronne. One followed the right bank of the Somme, pa.s.sed Peronne, and thence on to Amiens. Another road followed the left bank of the Somme, touched Peronne, and thence ran southwesterly to Paris.

When we reached Cinq Voies on the Somme--within eight leagues of Peronne--we halted for supper, very tired and weary. While supper was preparing, we held a consultation, and determined to rest there for the night. I advised against this course, believing that the duke would pa.s.s that way on his road from Ghent to Peronne. But Yolanda's sweet face was pinched by weariness, and Twonette was sound asleep. Our horses, I feared, might fail, and leave us hopelessly in the lurch. Therefore, I gave the command to offsaddle, and we halted at the inn for the night.

Our host told me his house was full of guests who had arrived two hours before, but he found a room for Yolanda and Twonette, and told Max and me to sleep, if we could, on the tap-room floor. After an hour on the hard boards I went to the stable, and, rousing a groom, gave him a silver crown for the privilege of sleeping on a wisp of hay. I fell asleep at once and must have slept like the dead, for the dawn was breaking when one of our squires wakened me. I could not believe that I had been sleeping five minutes, but the dim morning light startled me, and I ordered the horses saddled.

I hastened to the inn and wakened Max, to whose well-covered bones a board was as soft as a feather bed. While I was speaking to him, I heard a noise in an adjoining room and saw the door opening. Max and I barely escaped through an open arch when a commanding figure clad in light armor entered the tap-room.

I had not seen Charles of Burgundy since he was a boy--he was then Count of Charolois--but I at once knew with terrifying certainty that I looked on the most dreaded man in Europe. He had changed greatly since I last had seen him. He was then beardless; now he wore a beard that reached almost to his belt, and I should not have recognized in him the young Count of Charolois. There was, however, no doubt in my mind concerning his ident.i.ty.

Even had I failed to see the angry scar on his neck, of which I had often heard, or had I failed to note the lack of upper teeth (a fact known to all Europe) which gave his face an expression of savagery, I should have recognized him by his mien. There was not another man like him in all the world, and I trust there never will be. His face wore an expression of ferocity that was almost brutal. The pa.s.sions of anger, arrogance, and hatred were marked on every feature; but over all there was the stamp of an almost superhuman strength, the impress of an iron will, the expression of an exhaustless energy, and the majesty of a satanic bravery. If Yolanda was the daughter of this terrible man, and if he should discover that I had her hidden in the room above his head, I should never eat another breakfast. Truly, Max and I were on perilous ground.

Max remained in concealment, and I climbed the stairs, two steps at a time, to Yolanda's room. I gently knocked, and received a sleepy response.

"Rise at once," I whispered. "I must speak to you instantly."

"Enter--we are already dressed," answered Yolanda.

When I entered she had risen from the bed and was rubbing her eyes.

"We were so tired we slept in our garments. Don't we show it?" said Yolanda.

Her hands were above her head, vainly endeavoring to arrange her hair, which had fallen in a great tumble of dark curls over her shoulder. Rest had flushed her cheeks, and her lips and her eyes were moist with the dew of sleep. Though my business was urgent I could not resist exclaiming:--

"Ah, Fraulein, you surely are beautiful."

"I thank you, Sir Karl," she answered, flashing a smile upon me. "You may kiss my hand."

She offered me her hand and asked:--

"But what is your news?"

While she spoke I heard voices and the tramping of hoofs beneath the window in front of the inn, and turned to look. I quickly drew away from the window and beckoned Yolanda:--

"Come here, Fraulein."

She came to my side, and as she looked out upon the road two men emerged from the inn door. One of them was the Duke of Burgundy. She clutched my arm and whispered excitedly:--

"Watch them, Sir Karl! Note the road they take! If they go by the right, we shall take the left. We _must_ reach Peronne Castle before the duke.

Death itself hangs upon the issue, Sir Karl."

I watched till the duke and all his people had left the inn; then I followed till I saw them take the road leading down the right bank of the Somme. When I returned to the inn, I paid the score, and gave each member of our little party a _boule_ of bread to be eaten as we rode; and within five minutes after the duke's departure we were fording the Somme to take the left bank for Peronne.

CHAPTER VII

A RACE WITH THE DUKE

Neither road clung to the river in all its windings, but at too frequent intervals both touched the stream at the same points. At places the roads hugged the Somme, separated only by its width--perhaps two hundred yards. These would be our danger points. I did not know them, and Yolanda's knowledge of the road was imperfect.

Soon after leaving Cinq Voies, the road on the right bank--the one taken by the duke--gained a mile over the road on the left by cutting across a great bend in the river around which we had to travel. We therefore lost the duke's cavalcade at the outset.

Hoping to pa.s.s the duke before the roads came again within sight of each other, we urged our horses to full speed. But the duke also was travelling rapidly, as we learned when we reached the first point of contact. Should the duke's men see us they would certainly hail. Four men in armor and two ladies, travelling the road to Peronne would not be allowed to pa.s.s unchallenged. Fortunately, just before the danger point, a clump of trees and underbushes grew between our road and the river.

Max, who was riding a hundred yards in advance, suddenly stopped and held up his hand warningly. We halted immediately, and Max turned back to us, guiding his horse to the roadside to avoid raising a dust-cloud.