THE LOST DESPATCHES FOUND.
It was evening when Nigel at length passed with his escort through the
gates of Vienna, and on arriving at the palace was received with
abundance of courtesies by some officer of the household, who ushered
him to a suite of apartments in the wing allotted to the gentlemen in
attendance on his Imperial Majesty. The Emperor was at dinner, and would
expect him at his audience at an early hour on the morrow. A sumptuous
supper was set before him, and he was assiduously waited on by two
pages. Dinner ended, the same officer appeared again, and asked if he
desired to deliver his despatches to the Emperor's secretaries, who
would wait upon him, but Nigel made excuse that his commission was to
deliver them to the Emperor. This answer the gentleman received civilly
enough, and saying he would send some officers to bear him company,
wished him a good night's rest after his journey.
Presently three gentlemen came in and joined him at the table, where,
the remains of supper being cleared away and fresh wine set down, they
sat and played Skat, a game of cards which was then in great vogue among
all the people of the eastern part of Germany, and had wiled away the
tedium of many a long evening in camp for Nigel. With this and talk of
Magdeburg a couple of hours passed pleasantly, and then the party broke
up. Nigel was not sorry to be free to go to bed.
It was a room of comfortable aspect. The walls were hung with embossed
leather in the Flemish manner; the bed was a wide and high four-poster,
and the other furniture consisted of a great chest, a chair or two and
some other necessaries. It looked out upon the courtyard of the palace,
a large open space surrounded on four sides by piles of building. Nigel
could dimly see so much. The rest he left till morning.
Having performed his devotions he stretched himself out upon the bed,
drew up the heavy quilted counterpane and prepared to sleep.
But sleep was not to be wooed easily; for what was to happen on the
morrow he could not foresee. The profound humiliation of having to
confess in open audience to the Emperor the loss of his despatches was
perhaps the most poignant of his anticipations. And this he had passed
through so often in his mind already that he could not imagine that any
worse pang than he had already experienced could arise out of the
reality. From this his mind roved to the punishment that might be
inflicted. He expected that some military penalty would be his lot,
confinement perhaps for a time, the loss of his rank as captain. The
worst would be dismissal from the Emperor's service; for like a true
Scot he had learned to love his profession, and the service he had
chosen had become that which commanded all his loyalty. As a soldier of
fortune, who had fought with Wallenstein, he could make his way in any
of the armies of Europe, but he was not by nature a mercenary. Dismissal
would be the heaviest punishment of all. And then his thoughts, tired of
dwelling on these painful themes, flew away to Erfurt and to Ottilie von
Thüringen, that mysterious high-born lady whose history was entwined
with his own and Wallenstein's.
He had laughed scornfully as he rode to Vienna, thinking of the poor
figure Pietro Bramante had cut on the roadside among his pots and
phials, wondered how Wallenstein could ever have paid the attention to
his hocus-pocus that he had. He had blamed himself for his credulity
when the sunlight and the matter-of-fact incidents of his journey had
made the doings at Eger seem unreal.
But Ottilie was real. Ottilie had left an abiding impression. For
Ottilie Nigel felt he could abandon even the service of the Emperor.
Could he but gain one look of rapt intentness, such as the vision of her
had cast upon Wallenstein, then all the world might go. The surprising
softness of her cheek, the great dark liquid eyes laden with mist or
charged with lightning, the rich tones of her proud voice,--he recalled
them and dwelt upon them one by one, and his whole being was full of the
delight of his contemplation. And then, bathed in a warm glow, he fell
asleep.
In the morning he was awakened by Sergeant Blick bringing him his
holiday suit, or court suit, if it could be called so, for one who had
never been at court before, with its freshly laundered lace collar and
cuffs, its handsome doublet and breeches of dark-blue and silver, its
fine Spanish leathern boots with tiny gold spurs, its plumed hat to
carry out the vain conceit of one having come off a journey. Beneath the
collar he wore a silver gorget and his sword, with its silver-tipped
sheath burnished to the utmost, hung at his side.
Sergeant Blick was determined that, as far as in him lay, his own
captain of musketeers should make a comely gallant show before the
Emperor. He stayed till the last strap was secure and in its place.
"Now, captain, you look brave enough as far as outward fripperies go.
But the devil snatch me, captain, bear yourself less like a man that is
going to be hung. A little smack of the Italian would not be amiss. It
must not be said that Tilly's men cannot prank it with these Austrian
rascals."
Then he stood back to see the effect, and even Nigel, whose
anticipations of evil had again possessed him but a whit less than they
had the night before, was forced to laugh.
"You're like an old hen with one chicken, Blick. Call for a pint of
Tokay and you shall see how I will outdo Captain Bobadillo!"
A brace of pages and a servant appeared at the same time.
The servant led away Sergeant Blick, not unwilling, to the buttery.
The pages conducted Nigel to his _salle à manger_, and furnished not
only the needful flagon of Tokay, but a substantial breakfast of smoked
ham and sausages, a cold capon and dried fish. By the time he had
finished he would have faced the Emperor and the whole Reichstag to
boot.
Then the pages brought him scented water and soft linen to remove the
traces of breakfast, and asked if he were ready.
They led him down the stairs, across the courtyard, in which the guard
of the palace were exercising, and Nigel's eyes roved over their
headpieces and corslets and muskets with the approval an officer must
always bestow on a well-accoutred and disciplined troop. The pages
crossed the courtyard and entered another door, again leading to some
stairs, and pushing open two high doors, they led him into another long
gallery, the walls of which were hung with many portraits of bygone
Habsburgs and of many grand dukes and princes with whom they had
contracted alliances.
He cast a glance here and there, asking the pages questions as he went.
They told him that the hall of audience was at the other end, and that
he would be summoned presently. There being no need of haste, he
sauntered, giving more heed and indeed coming to a stand before a newly
painted canvas of a princess.
"The Archduchess Stephanie!" exclaimed both pages.
Nigel stood gazing at it.
"By Signor Pourbus, a Spaniard, who has but just painted the Emperor!"
they went on.
"Wondrous like!" was Nigel's exclamation.
"Very like!" said the pages. "Here comes Her Highness. She walks here a
little while most mornings."
And out of a chamber at the side the Archduchess Stephanie came, and
Nigel and the pages awaited her approach. She came with no hurried pace,
and as she came Nigel grew pale and red by turns, for here, if any one,
was Ottilie von Thüringen, gloriously apparelled, her hair framing her
face in a multitude of curling locks of raven hues, rows of pearls about
her neck, suspending against the whiteness of her throat a jewelled
dragon.
The Archduchess stayed in her walk, and having cast a look at Nigel,
said gently to one of the pages--
"Hermann! Who is this gentleman who waits for audience?"
"If it please your Highness," said the page, "it is Captain Nigel
Charteris, bearer of despatches from Magdeburg!"
"Ah! I had forgotten." Then she turned to Nigel, who dropped upon his
knees, extending him her hand to kiss, and he accomplished the obeisance
with good grace, notwithstanding his lively emotion.
"You are welcome to Vienna, sir!"
Nigel was now uncertain. The tones of her voice seemed familiar, but not
convincing.
"You have doubtless had a troublous journey?"
"In some measure, your Highness!" He had gained courage to look straight
into her eyes, but there was no look or sign of recognition.
She made a little gesture to the page, who withdrew to wait at the end
of the gallery.
"Tell me, sir, did you pass through Eger on your way?"
"Yes, your Highness!"
"Count Albrecht von Waldstein, is he not there?"
"Yes, your Highness!"
"Did you see him?"
"I did, your Highness! He is my old commander. He wearies for a renewal
of his service!"
"Ah!" It was almost a sigh. "It will come again. It was but yesterday I
had a message from him asking me to use my offices with the Emperor. He
spoke of you and sent me a packet to give you."
There was a cabinet much inlaid with ivory, from Milan, as the pages had
told him, which stood near by, and the Archduchess brought a little key
from her chatelaine wallet and opened it, as if to show him the curious
work within.
In one of the drawers which she pulled out was a leathern wallet.
Nigel's eye fastened greedily upon it. For it was the wallet in which he
had carried the despatches.
"It looks," said Nigel, "as if it and I, your Highness, were old
acquaintances thrust apart by circumstance. May I look within?"
The Archduchess said, without any sign of interest, "It is for you, sir;
open it."
Inside was the precious packet. Nigel could not restrain his eyes from
glowing, his face from flushing, or his fingers from a little tremor. He
turned it round. It was intact as he had lost it. The seal of Count
Tilly was perfect.
"Your Highness is surely my good angel," he said gratefully, forgetting
for the moment the old Ottilie von Thüringen in the new and glorious
Archduchess Stephanie. "This that Wallenstein has sent me will justify
my coming hither. Without it I had been dubbed, and rightly, a
blundering knave, for your Highness should know I was robbed of it in a
forest while I slept, and with two sentries on guard."
"It was a fault Albrecht von Waldstein would have borne hardly, had he
been Captain-General. But in this case Fortune has been kind to you."
Nigel bowed. "I would that your Highness would continue to represent the
Goddess in my regard."
She said nothing but some word of adieu, and passed on her way solitary,
gliding like a swan.
And before Nigel could form any opinion on this strange rencontre with
the proud princess, one of the gentlemen-in-waiting came and begged his
attendance in the audience-chamber.