Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy Part 38

A long pause ensued during which Max stood before the duke, a n.o.ble figure of manly beauty worthy the chisel of a Greek sculptor. The shutter in the ladies' gallery was ajar and I caught a glimpse of Yolanda's pale, tear-stained face as she looked down upon the man she loved, who was to put his life in peril to avenge her wrong.

"We are wasting time, Count Calli," spoke the duke. "Take up the gage or demand a court. The charge made by Sir Max will certainly justify a court of chivalry in ordering the combat. The truth or falsity of that charge you and Sir Max must prove on each other's bodies. His desire to remain unknown the court will respect; he has ample precedent. If you are convinced by the word of our Lord d'Hymbercourt and myself that he is of birth and station worthy to engage with you in knightly and mortal combat, you can ask no more. Few courts of chivalry, I take it, would hold the evidence inconclusive. Take up or leave the gage, Sir Count, and do one or the other at once."

Calli walked over to the gauntlet and, taking it from the floor, held it in his right hand while he bent his knee before the duke. He did not look toward Max, but turned in the direction of his friends and tucked the gauntlet in his girdle as he strode away.

"We appoint this day twelve days, on a Sunday afternoon, for the combat," said Charles. "Then these men shall do their endeavor, each upon the other; and may G.o.d give victory to the right!"

That evening, as usual, Max and I were at Castleman's. Yolanda did not come down till late, but when she came she clung silently to Max, and there was a deep pathos in her every word and glance. As we left, I went back and whispered hurriedly to her:--

"Have no fear, dear one. Our Max will take no harm."

My words were bolder than my heart, but I thought to comfort her.

"I have no fear, Sir Karl," she said, in a trembling voice. "There is no man so strong and brave as Max. He is in the right, and G.o.d is just. The Blessed Virgin, too, will help him. It would be sacrilege to doubt her.

I do not doubt. I do not fear, Sir Karl, but, oh, my friend--" Here she buried her face on my breast and wept convulsively. Her words, too, had been bolder than her heart--far bolder.

The brooding instinct in me--the faint remnant of mother love, that kind Providence has left in every, good man's heart--longed to comfort her and bear her pains. But I was powerless to help her, and, after all, her suffering was wholesome. In a moment she continued, sobbing while she spoke:--

"But--oh! if by any mischance Max should fall; if by treachery or accident--oh, Sir Karl, my heart is breaking. Do not let Max fight."

These words were from her woman's heart. "His station will excuse him, but if the affair has gone too far for him to withdraw, tell him to--to leave Burgundy, to run away, to--"

"Yolanda, what are you saying?" I asked. "Would you not rather see him dead than a coward?"

"No, no, Sir Karl," she cried, wrought almost to a frenzy by her grief and fear. "No, no, anything but dead."

"Listen to reason, Yolanda," I answered. "I, who love Max more than I love the blood of my heart, would kill him with my own hand rather than have cause to call him coward and speak the truth."

"No, no," she cried desperately, grasping my hand. "Do not let him fight. Ah, Sir Karl, if you bear me any love, if my grief and unhappy lot have touched your heart, even on the smallest spot, I pray you, do this thing for me. Do not let Max fight with this Count Calli. If Max falls--"

"But Max will not fall," I answered boldly. "He has overthrown better men than Calli."

"Has he? Ah, tell me, has he? He is little more than a boy. I seem older than he at times, and it is hard to believe what you say, though I know he is strong, and that fear has no place in his heart. Tell me, whom has he overthrown?"

"Another time, Yolanda," I responded soothingly, "but this I say now to comfort you. Calli is no match for our Max. In the combat that is to come, Max can kill him if he chooses, barring accidents and treachery.

Over and above his prowess, his cause, you know, is just, and for that reason G.o.d will be with him."

"Yes, yes," sobbed Yolanda, "and the Virgin, too."

The Virgin was a woman in whom she could find a woman's sympathy. She trusted G.o.d and stood in reverent awe of Him; but one could easily see that the Virgin held her heart and was her refuge in time of trouble.

When I turned to leave she called me back, saying:--

"I have a mind to tell Max the truth--to tell him who I am."

"I would not do so now," I answered, fearing, perhaps with good reason, the effect of the disclosure on Max. "After the combat, if you wish to tell him--"

"But if he should fall?" said the girl, beginning to weep again and clinging desperately to my arm. "If he should fall, not knowing who I am?"

"Max will not fall, Yolanda. Dismiss that fear from your heart."

My bold words served a double purpose. They at least partially satisfied Yolanda, and they strengthened me.

Of course Max and I at once began to prepare for the combat. The charger we had captured from the robbers on the Rhine now came to our hand as if sent by Providence. He was a large, active horse, with limbs like steel.

He was an intelligent animal, too, and a good brain is almost as valuable in a horse as in a man. He had evidently borne arms all his life, for when we tried him in the tilt-yard we found him trained at every point.

There was no heavy plate at the Peronne armorer's large enough for Max, so Hymbercourt dropped a hint to Duke Charles, and His Grace sent two beautiful suits to our inn. One was of Barcelona make, the other an old suit which we judged had come from Damascus. I tried the latter with my sword, and spoiled a good blade. Although the Damascus armor was too heavy by a stone, we chose it, and employed an armorer to tighten a few nuts, and to adjust new straps to the shoulder plates and arm pieces.

We caused lists to be built outside the walls, and Max worked eight hours a day to harden himself. He ran against me, against our squires, who were l.u.s.ty big fellows, and now and then against Hymbercourt, who was a most accomplished knight.

Yolanda was p.r.o.ne to coax Max not to fight, and her fear showed itself in every look and gesture. Her words, of course, could not have turned him, but her fears might have undermined his self-confidence. So I pointed out to her the help he would get from encouragement, and the possible hurt he would take were her fears to infect him. After my admonition, her efforts to be cheerful and confident almost brought tears to my eyes. She would sing, but her song was joyless. She would banter Max and would run imaginary courses with him, taking the part of Calli, and always falling dead at Max's feet; but the moment of relaxation brought a haunting, terrified expression to her eyes. The corners of her sweet mouth would droop, effacing the cl.u.s.ter of dimples that played about her lips, and the fair, childish face, usually so joyful, wore the mask of grief. For the first time in her life real happiness had come, not within her grasp, but within sight; and this combat might s.n.a.t.c.h it from her.

Once when I was helping Max to buckle on his armor for a bout at practice, he said:--

"Yolanda seems to treat this battle as a jest. She laughs and banters me as if it were to be a justing bout. I wonder if she really has a heart?"

"Max, I am surprised at your dulness," I said. "Do you not see her manner is a.s.sumed, though her fear is small because of her great faith in your prowess?"

"I'll try to deserve her faith," answered Max.

When at last the day arrived, Max was in prime condition. At the inn we carefully adjusted the armor and fitted it on him. One of our squires led the charger, carefully trapped, to the lists, which had been built in an open field outside the town, west of the castle.

Max and I, accompanied by Hymbercourt and two other friends, rode down to Castleman's, and Max entered the house for a few minutes. Yolanda had told him that she would not be at the lists, and Max felt that it were better so.

Twonette and her father had gone to the lists when we reached the House under the Wall, but Yolanda and Frau Kate were awaiting us. There was a brief greeting and a hurried parting--tearful on Yolanda's part. Then we rode around to the Postern and entered the courtyard of the castle.

Crossing the courtyard, we pa.s.sed out through the great gate at the keep, and soon stood demanding admission to the lists.

The course was laid off north and south, the sun being in the southwest.

The hour of battle was fixed at four o'clock, and the combat was to continue till sundown, if neither champion fell before that time. The pavilion for the duke and the other spectators was built at the west side of the false lists--a strip of ground ten feet wide, extending entirely around the true lists, but separated from it by a barrier or railing three feet high.

It was an hour after we left Castleman's house before Max and I entered the false lists. As I expected, the princess was sitting in the pavilion with her father and d.u.c.h.ess Margaret. A veil partly concealed her features, and when Max rode down the false lists to make his obeisance before the duke and the d.u.c.h.ess, he could not know that the white face of Yolanda looked down upon him. I was sorry to see the princess in the pavilion, because I knew that if an untoward fate should befall Max, a demonstration would surely follow in the ducal gallery.

At the gate of the true lists, Max was met by a priest, who heard his oath, and by a herald, who read the laws and the agreement relating to the combat. A court of heraldry had decided that three lances should be broken, after which the champions, if both alive, should dismount and continue the fight with battle-axes of whatever weight they might choose. If either knight should be disabled, it was the other's right to kill him.

After Max had entered the true lists the gates were closed, and Hymbercourt, myself, and our squires stood outside the barrier at the north end of the false lists,--the north being Max's station on the course.

Max sat his charger, lance in rest; Calli waited in the south, and these two faced each other with death between them.

When all was ready the heralds raised their banners, and the duke gave the word of battle. There was a moment of deep silence, broken by the thunder of tramping hoofs, as horses and men rushed upon each other.

Calli and Max met in mid-course, and the din of their contact was like the report of a cannon. Each horse fell back upon its haunches; each rider bent back upon his horse. Two tough yule lances burst into a hundred splinters. Then silence ensued, broken after a moment by a storm of applause from the pavilion.

The second course was like the first, save that Max nearly unhorsed Calli by a marvellous helmet stroke. The stroke loosened Calli's helmet by breaking a throat-strap, but neither he nor his friends seemed to notice the mishap, and the third course was begun without remedying it.

When the champions were within ten yards of each other, a report like the discharge of an arquebuse was heard, coming apparently from beneath the pavilion. I could not say whence the report came--I was too intent upon the scene in the lists to be thoroughly conscious of happenings elsewhere--but come it did from somewhere, and Max's fine charger plunged forward on the lists, dead. Max fell over his horse's head and lay half-stunned upon the ground.

Above the din rose a cry, a frantic scream, that fairly pierced my heart. Well I knew the voice that uttered it. The people in the pavilion rose to their feet, and cries of "Treachery! treachery!" came from all directions. Calli was evidently expecting the shot, for just before it came he reined in his horse, and when Max fell the Italian instantly brought his charger to a standstill and began to dismount with all the speed his heavy armor would permit. When safely down, he unclasped his battle-axe from the chain that held it to his girdle and started toward Max, who was lying p.r.o.ne upon the ground. Cries of "Shame! shame!" came from the pavilion, but no one, not even the duke, dared to interfere; it was Calli's right to kill Max if he could.

I had covered my eyes with my hand, thinking that surely the boy's hour had come. I removed my hand when I heard the scream, and I have thanked G.o.d ever since for prompting me to do that little act, for I saw the most beautiful sight that my eyes have ever beheld. Calli had reached his prostrate foe and was standing over him with battle-axe uplifted to deal the blow of death. At that same moment Yolanda sprang from the duke's side, cleared the low railing in front of the ducal box, and jumped to the false lists six or eight feet below. Her gown of scarlet and gold shone with dazzling radiance in the sunlight.