Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy Part 37

"I hope you do not speak so freely to others," said Max. "If His Grace of Burgundy should hear of your words he might--"

"I hope you will not tell him," said Yolanda, laughing. "But this Mary!"

she continued, clinging stubbornly to the dangerous topic. "You came to woo her estates, and in the end you will do so."

I am convinced that the girl was intensely jealous of herself. When she feared that Max might seek the Princess Mary, her heart brooded over the thought that he would do so for the sake of her wealth and her domains.

"I have told you once, Fraulein, what I will do and what I will not. For your own sake and mine I'll tell you no more," said Max.

"If I were a great princess," said Yolanda, pouting and hanging her head, "you would not speak so sharply to me." Evidently she was hurt by Max's words, though they were the expression, not of his displeasure, but of his pain.

"Fraulein, forgive me; my words were not meant to be sharp. It was my pain that spoke. You torture me and cause me to torture myself," said Max. "To keep a constant curb on one's ardent longing is exhausting. It takes the heart out of a man. At times you seem to forget that my silence is my great grief, not my fault. Ah, Fraulein! you cannot understand my longing and my struggle."

"I do understand," she answered plaintively, slipping her hand into his, "and unless certain recent happenings have the result I hope for, you, too, will understand, more clearly than you now do, within a very short time."

She covered her face with her hands. Her words mystified Max, and he was on the point of asking her to explain. He loved and pitied her, and would have put his arm around her waist to comfort her, but she sprang to her feet, exclaiming:--

"No, no, Little Max, let us save all that for our farewell. You will not have long to wait."

Wisdom returned to Max, and he knew that she was right in helping him to resist the temptation that he had so valiantly struggled against since leaving Basel.

All that I had really hoped for in Styria, all our fair dreams upon the castle walls of Hapsburg, had come to pa.s.s. Max had, beyond doubt, won the heart of Mary of Burgundy, but that would avail nothing unless by some good chance conditions should so change that Mary would be able to choose for herself. In such case, ambition would cut no figure in her choice. The chains of duty to family, state, and ancestry that bound Max's feet so firmly would be but wisps of straw about Yolanda's slender ankles. She would have no hesitancy in making her choice, were she free to do so, and states might go hang for all she would care. Her heart was her state. Would she ever be able to choose? Fortune had been kind to us thus far; would she remain our friend? She is a coquette; but the heart of a coquette, if truly won, is the most steadfast of all.

Twonette brought in the wine and honey; Castleman soon returned and lighted the lamp, and we all sat talking before the small blaze in the fireplace, till the great clock in the middle of the room chimed the hour of ten. Then Yolanda ran from us with a hurried good night, and Max returned with me to the inn.

I cannot describe the joy I took from the recurring thought that I was particeps criminis with the Princess of Burgundy in the commission of a crime. At times I wished the crime had been greater and its extenuation far less. We hear much about what happens when thieves fall out, but my observation teaches me that thieves usually remain good friends. The bonds of friendship had begun to strengthen between Yolanda and me before she sought my help in the perpetration of her great crime. After that black felony, they became like links of Milan chain. I shared her secrets, great and small.

One day while Yolanda and I were sitting in the oak room,--the room from which the panel opened into the stairway in the wall,--I said to her:--

"If your letter 't' causes a break with France, perhaps Max's opportunity may come."

"I do not know--I cannot hope," she responded dolefully. "You see, when father made this treaty with France, he was halting between two men in the choice of a husband for me. One was the Dauphin, son to King Louis, whom father hates with every breath he draws. The other was the Duke of Gelders, whom father really likes. Gelders is a brute, Sir Karl. He kept his father in prison four years, and usurped his domain. He is a drunkard, a murderer, and a profligate. For reasons of state father chose the Dauphin, but if the treaty with France is broken, I suppose it will be Gelders again. If it comes to that, Sir Karl--but I'll not say what I'll do. My head is full of schemes from morning till night, and when I sleep my poor brain is a whirl of visions. Self-destruction, elopement, and I know not what else appeal to me. How far is it to Styria, Sir Karl?" she asked abruptly.

"Two or three hundred leagues, perhaps--it may be more," I answered. "I do not know how far it is, Yolanda, but it is not far enough for your purposes. Even could you reach there, Styria could not protect you."

"I was not thinking of--of what you suppose, Sir Karl," she said plaintively.

"What were you thinking of, Yolanda?" I asked.

"Of nothing--of--of--a wild dream of hiding away from the world in some unknown corner, at times comes to me in my sleep--only in my sleep, Sir Karl--for in my waking hours I know it to be impossible. The only pleasant part of being a princess is that the world envies you; but what a poor bauble it is to buy at the frightful price I pay!"

"I have been on mountain tops," I answered philosophically, "and I find that breathing grows difficult as one ascends."

"Ah, Sir Karl," she answered tearfully, "I believe I'll go upstairs and weep."

I led her to the moving panel and opened it for her. Without turning her face she held back her hand for me to kiss. Then she started up the dark stone steps, and I knew that she was weeping. I closed the panel and sat on the cushioned bench. To say that I would have given my old life to win happiness for her but poorly measures my devotion. A man's happiness depends entirely on the number and quality of those to whom his love goes out. Before meeting Yolanda I drew all my happiness from loving one person--Max. Now my source was doubled, and I wished for the first time that I might live my life again, to lay it at this girl's feet.

CHAPTER XVII

TRIAL BY COMBAT

Max had waited until Calli's arm was mended to bring up the subject of the trial by combat; but when he would have taken it before the duke, I dissuaded him by many pretexts, and for a few days it was dropped. But soon it was brought forward in a most unpleasant way. Max and I were in the streets of Peronne one afternoon, and as we approached a group of ragged boys, one of them cried out:--

"There is the fellow that challenged Count Calli, but won't fight him!"

Max turned upon the boy, caught him roughly by the shoulder, and asked him where he got his information. The frightened boy replied that his father was a hostler in the duke's stables, and had heard Count Calli say that the fellow who had challenged him was "all gauntlet but no fight."

We at once sought Hymbercourt, who, on being closely questioned, admitted that the Italians in the castle were boasting that the stranger who seemed so eager to fight when Calli's arm was lame, had lost his courage now that the arm was healed.

Of course I was in a deal of trouble over this combat, and heartily wished the challenge had never been given, though I had all faith in Max's strength and skill. I, who had fought constantly for twenty years, had trained him since his tenth birthday. I had not only trained him; I had introduced him to the lists at eighteen--he being well grown, strong of limb, and active as a wildcat. I waged him against a famous tilt-yard knight, and Max held his own manfully, to his great credit and to my great joy. The battle was a draw. My first great joy in life came a few months afterward, when Max unhorsed this same knight, and received the crown of victory from the queen of the lists.

But this combat would be a battle of death. Two men would enter the lists; one would die in the course.

Max could, with propriety, announce his t.i.tle and refuse to fight one so far beneath him as Calli; but even my love for the boy and my fear of the outcome, could not induce me to advise this. The advice would have been little heeded had I given it. Max was not one in whose heart hatred could thrive, but every man should have a just sense of injury received, and no one should leave all vengeance to G.o.d. In Max's heart this sense was almost judicial. The court of his conscience had convicted Calli of an unforgivable crime, and he felt that it was his G.o.d-appointed duty to carry out the sentence.

While I had all faith in Max's strength and skill, I also knew Calli to be a strong, time-hardened man, well used to arms. What his skill was, I could not say, but fame proclaimed it great. It would need to be great to kill Max, boy though he was, but accidents are apt to happen in the lists, and Calli was treacherous. I was deep in trouble, but I saw no way out but for Max to fight. So, on the morning after our conversation with Hymbercourt, Max and I sought admission to the duke's audience.

Charles had been privately told of our purpose and of course was delighted at the prospect of a battle to the death.

A tournament with, mayhap, a few broken heads furnished him great enjoyment; but a real battle between two men, each seeking the other's life, was such keen pleasure to his savage, blood-loving nature, that its importance could hardly be measured. Charles would have postponed his war against the Swiss, I verily believe, rather than miss this combat between Max and Calli.

The duke hurried through the business of the morning, and then turned toward Max, signifying that his time had come. Max stepped before the ducal throne, made his obeisance, and said:--

"May it please Your Highness to recall a wage of battle given by me some weeks ago, in this hall and in this august presence, to one who calls himself Count Calli? The cause of my complaint against the said Calli I need not here rehea.r.s.e. I have waited to repeat my defiance until such time as Count Calli's arm should mend. I am told that he is now strong; and, most gracious Lord Charles, Duke of Burgundy, I again offer my wage of battle against this said knight and demand the trial by combat."

Thereupon he drew an iron gauntlet from his girdle and threw it clanking on the stone floor. The gauntlet lay untouched for the s.p.a.ce of a minute or two; and the duke turned toward Calli and Campo-Ba.s.so, who stood surrounded by their Italian friends at the right of the throne. After a long pause Charles said:--

"Will Count Calli lift the gage, or shall we appoint a court of heraldry to determine whether or no the combat shall take place?"

There was a whispered conversation among the Italians, after which Campo-Ba.s.so addressed the duke.

"My most gracious lord," said he, "the n.o.ble Count Calli is loath to lift the gage of an unknown man, and would make bold to say that he will not do so until he is satisfied that he who so boastingly offers it is worthy in blood, station, and knighthood to stand before him."

"For all that I will stand surety," said Hymbercourt, turning to the duke and to Campo-Ba.s.so.

"The Lord d'Hymbercourt's honor is beyond reproach," replied the Italian, "but Count Calli must have other proof."

Hymbercourt was about to make an angry reply, but he was silenced by the duke's uplifted hand.

"We will ourself be surety for this knight," said Charles.

"We cannot gainsay Your Lordship's surety, most gracious duke," returned Campo-Ba.s.so; "but with all meekness and humility we would suggest, with Your Grace's permission, that when a man jeopards his life against another he feels it his right to know at least his foe's name."

"Count Calli must content himself with knowing that the knight's name is Sir Maximilian du Guelph. If Count Calli is right and his cause just, G.o.d will give him victory, and the whole world shall know of his deed.

If he is in the wrong and his cause unjust, may G.o.d have mercy on his soul."