For I have given here my full consent
To undeck the pompous body of a king,
Make glory base, and sovereignty a slave,
Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
_Richard II._
The next day opened a grave scene. King René had not forgotten to
arrange the pleasures of the day, when, to his horror and
discomfiture, Margaret demanded an interview upon serious business. If
there was a proposition in the world which René from his soul
detested, it was any that related to the very name of business.
"What was it that his child wanted?" he said. "Was it money? He would
give her whatever ready sums he had, though he owned his exchequer was
somewhat bare; yet he had received his income for the season. It was
ten thousand crowns. How much should he desire to be paid to her?--the
half--three parts--or the whole? All was at her command."
"Alas, my dear father," said Margaret, "it is not my affairs, but your
own, on which I desire to speak with you."
"If the affairs are mine," said René, "I am surely master to put them
off to another day--to some rainy dull day, fit for no better purpose.
See, my love, the hawking-party are all on their steeds and ready--the
horses are neighing and pawing--the gallants and maidens mounted, and
ready with hawk on fist--the spaniels struggling in the leash. It were
a sin, with wind and weather to friend, to lose so lovely a morning."
"Let them ride their way," said Queen Margaret, "and find their sport;
for the matter I have to speak concerning involves honour and rank,
life and means of living."
"Nay, but I have to hear and judge between Calezon and John of Acqua
Mortis, the two most celebrated Troubadours."
"Postpone their cause till to-morrow," said Margaret, "and dedicate an
hour or two to more important affairs."
"If you are peremptory," replied King René, "you are aware, my child,
I cannot say you nay."
And with reluctance he gave orders for the hawkers to go on and follow
their sport, as he could not attend them that day.
The old King then suffered himself, like an unwilling greyhound
withheld from the chase, to be led into a separate apartment. To
insure privacy, Margaret stationed her secretary Mordaunt, with
Arthur, in an antechamber, giving them orders to prevent all
intrusion.
"Nay, for myself, Margaret," said the good-natured old man, "since it
must be, I consent to be put _au secret_; but why keep old Mordaunt
from taking a walk in this beautiful morning; and why prevent young
Arthur from going forth with the rest? I promise you, though they term
him a philosopher, yet he showed as light a pair of heels last night,
with the young Countess de Boisgelin, as any gallant in Provence."
"They are come from a country," said Margaret, "in which men are
trained from infancy to prefer their duty to their pleasure."
The poor King, led into the council-closet, saw with internal
shuddering the fatal cabinet of ebony, bound with silver, which had
never been opened but to overwhelm him with weariness, and dolefully
calculated how many yawns he must strangle ere he sustained the
consideration of its contents. They proved, however, when laid before
him, of a kind that excited even his interest, though painfully.
His daughter presented him with a short and clear view of the debts
which were secured on his dominions, and for which they were mortgaged
in various pieces and parcels. She then showed him, by another
schedule, the large claims of which payment was instantly demanded, to
discharge which no funds could be found or assigned. The King defended
himself like others in his forlorn situation. To every claim of six,
seven, or eight thousand ducats, he replied by the assertion that he
had ten thousand crowns in his chancery, and showed some reluctance to
be convinced, till repeatedly urged upon him, that the same sum could
not be adequate to the discharge of thirty times the amount.
"Then," said the King, somewhat impatiently, "why not pay off those
who are most pressing, and let the others wait till receipts come
round?"
"It is a practice which has been too often resorted to," replied the
Queen, "and it is but a part of honesty to pay creditors who have
advanced their all in your Grace's service."
"But are we not," said René, "King of both the Sicilies, Naples,
Arragon, and Jerusalem? And why is the monarch of such fair kingdoms
to be pushed to the wall, like a bankrupt yeoman, for a few bags of
paltry crowns?"
"You are indeed monarch of these kingdoms," said Margaret; "but is it
necessary to remind your Majesty that it is but as I am Queen of
England, in which I have not an acre of land, and cannot command a
penny of revenue? You have no dominions which are a source of revenue,
save those which you see in this scroll, with an exact list of the
income they afford. It is totally inadequate, you see, to maintain
your state, and to pay the large engagements incurred to former
creditors."
"It is cruel to press me to the wall thus," said the poor King. "What
can I do? If I am poor, I cannot help it. I am sure I would pay the
debts you talk of, if I knew the way."
"Royal father, I will show it you.--Resign your useless and unavailing
dignity, which, with the pretensions attending it, serves but to make
your miseries ridiculous. Resign your rights as a sovereign, and the
income which cannot be stretched out to the empty excesses of a
beggarly court will enable you to enjoy, in ease and opulence, all the
pleasures you most delight in, as a private baron."
"Margaret, you speak folly," answered René, somewhat sternly. "A king
and his people are bound by ties which neither can sever without
guilt. My subjects are my flock, I am their shepherd. They are
assigned to my governance by Heaven, and I dare not renounce the
charge of protecting them."
"Were you in condition to do so," answered the Queen, "Margaret would
bid you fight to the death. But don your harness, long disused--mount
your war-steed--cry, René for Provence! and see if a hundred men will
gather round your standard. Your fortresses are in the hands of
strangers; army you have none; your vassals may have good-will, but
they lack all military skill and soldierlike discipline. You stand but
the mere skeleton of monarchy, which France or Burgundy may prostrate
on the earth, whichever first puts forth his arm to throw it down."
The tears trickled fast down the old King's cheeks, when this
unflattering prospect was set before him, and he could not forbear
owning his total want of power to defend himself and his dominions,
and admitting that he had often thought of the necessity of
compounding for his resignation with one of his powerful neighbours.
"It was thy interest, Margaret, harsh and severe as you are, which
prevented my entering, before now, into measures most painful to my
feelings, but perhaps best calculated for my advantage. But I had
hoped it would hold on for my day; and thou, my child, with the
talents Heaven has given thee, wouldst, I thought, have found remedy
for distresses which I cannot escape, otherwise than by shunning the
thoughts of them."
"If it is in earnest you speak of my interest," said Margaret, "know,
that your resigning Provence will satisfy the nearest, and almost the
only wish that my bosom can form; but, so judge me Heaven, as it is on
your account, gracious sire, as well as mine, that I advise your
compliance."
"Say no more on't, child; give me the parchment of resignation, and I
will sign it: I see thou hast it ready drawn; let us sign it, and then
we will overtake the hawkers. We must suffer woe, but there is little
need to sit down and weep for it."
"Do you not ask," said Margaret, surprised at his apathy, "to whom you
cede your dominions?"
"What boots it," answered the King, "since they must be no more my
own? It must be either to Charles of Burgundy, or my nephew
Louis--both powerful and politic princes. God send my poor people may
have no cause to wish their old man back again, whose only pleasure
was to see them happy and mirthful."
"It is to Burgundy you resign Provence," said Margaret.
"I would have preferred him," answered René; "he is fierce, but not
malignant. One word more. Are my subjects' privileges and immunities
fully secured?"
"Amply," replied the Queen; "and your own wants of all kinds
honourably provided for. I would not leave the stipulations in your
favour in blank, though I might perhaps have trusted Charles of
Burgundy, where money alone is concerned."
"I ask not for myself--with my viol and my pencil, René the Troubadour
will be as happy as ever was René the King."
So saying, with practical philosophy he whistled the burden of his
last composed ariette, and signed away the rest of his royal
possessions without pulling off his glove, or even reading the
instrument.
"What is this?" he said, looking at another and separate parchment of
much briefer contents. "Must my kinsman Charles have both the
Sicilies, Catalonia, Naples, and Jerusalem, as well as the poor
remainder of Provence? Methinks, in decency, some greater extent of
parchment should have been allowed to so ample a cession."
"That deed," said Margaret, "only disowns and relinquishes all
countenance of Ferrand de Vaudemont's rash attempt on Lorraine, and
renounces all quarrel on that account against Charles of Burgundy."
For once Margaret miscalculated the tractability of her father's
temper. René positively started, coloured, and stammered with passion,
as he interrupted her--"_Only_ disown--_only_ relinquish--_only_
renounce the cause of my grandchild, the son of my dear Yolande--his
rightful claims on his mother's inheritance!--Margaret, I am ashamed
for thee. Thy pride is an excuse for thy evil temper but what is pride
worth which can stoop to commit an act of dishonourable meanness? To
desert, nay, disown, my own flesh and blood, because the youth is a
bold knight under shield, and disposed to battle for his right--I were
worthy that harp and horn rung out shame on me, should I listen to
thee."
Margaret was overcome in some measure by the old man's unexpected
opposition. She endeavoured, however, to show that there was no
occasion, in point of honour, why René should engage in the cause of a
wild adventurer, whose right, be it good be it bad, was only upheld by
some petty and underhand supplies of money from France, and the
countenance of a few of the restless banditti who inhabit the borders
of all nations. But ere René could answer, voices, raised to an
unusual pitch, were heard in the antechamber, the door of which was
flung open by an armed knight, covered with dust, who exhibited all
the marks of a long journey.
"Here I am," he said, "father of my mother--behold your
grandson--Ferrand de Vaudemont; the son of your lost Yolande kneels at
your feet, and implores a blessing on him and his enterprise."
"Thou hast it," replied René, "and may it prosper with thee, gallant
youth, image of thy sainted mother--my blessings, my prayers, my
hopes, go with you!"
"And you, fair aunt of England," said the young knight, addressing
Margaret, "you who are yourself dispossessed by traitors, will you not
own the cause of a kinsman who is struggling for his inheritance?"
"I wish all good to your person, fair nephew," answered the Queen of
England, "although your features are strange to me. But to advise this
old man to adopt your cause, when it is desperate in the eyes of all
wise men, were impious madness."
"Is my cause then so desperate?" said Ferrand. "Forgive me if I was
not aware of it. And does my aunt Margaret say this, whose strength of
mind supported Lancaster so long, after the spirits of her warriors
had been quelled by defeat? What--forgive me, for my cause must be
pleaded--what would you have said had my mother Yolande been capable
to advise her father to disown your own Edward, had God permitted him
to reach Provence in safety?"
"Edward," said Margaret, weeping as she spoke, "was incapable of
desiring his friends to espouse a quarrel that was irremediable. His,
too, was a cause for which mighty princes and peers laid lance in
rest."
"Yet Heaven blessed it not--" said Vaudemont.
"Thine," continued Margaret, "is but embraced by the robber nobles of
Germany, the upstart burghers of the Rhine cities, the paltry and
clownish Confederates of the Cantons."
"But Heaven _has blessed it_," replied Vaudemont. "Know, proud woman,
that I come to interrupt your treacherous intrigues; no petty
adventurer, subsisting and maintaining warfare by sleight rather than
force, but a conqueror from a bloody field of battle, in which Heaven
has tamed the pride of the tyrant of Burgundy."
"It is false!" said the Queen, starting. "I believe it not."
"It is true," said De Vaudemont, "as true as heaven is above us.--It
is four days since I left the field of Granson (_d_), heaped with
Burgundy's mercenaries--his wealth, his jewels, his plate, his
magnificent decorations, the prize of the poor Swiss, who scarce can
tell their value. Know you this, Queen Margaret?" continued the young
soldier, showing the well-known jewel which decorated the Duke's Order
of the Golden Fleece; "think you not the lion was closely hunted when
he left such trophies as these behind him?"
Margaret looked, with dazzled eyes and bewildered thoughts, upon a
token which confirmed the Duke's defeat, and the extinction of her
last hopes. Her father, on the contrary, was struck with the heroism
of the young warrior, a quality which, except as it existed in his
daughter Margaret, had, he feared, taken leave of his family. Admiring
in his heart the youth who exposed himself to danger for the meed of
praise, almost as much as he did the poets by whom the warrior's fame
is rendered immortal, he hugged his grandson to his bosom, bidding him
"gird on his sword in strength," and assuring him, if money could
advance his affairs, he, King René, could command ten thousand crowns,
any part, or the whole of which, was at Ferrand's command; thus giving
proof of what had been said of him, that his head was incapable of
containing two ideas at the same time.
We return to Arthur, who, with the Queen of England's secretary,
Mordaunt, had been not a little surprised by the entrance of the Count
de Vaudemont, calling himself Duke of Lorraine, into the anteroom, in
which they kept a kind of guard, followed by a tall strong Swiss, with
a huge halberd over his shoulder. The prince naming himself, Arthur
did not think it becoming to oppose his entrance to the presence of
his grandfather and aunt, especially as it was obvious that his
opposition must have created an affray. In the huge staring
halberdier, who had sense enough to remain in the anteroom, Arthur was
not a little surprised to recognise Sigismund Biederman, who, after
staring wildly at him for a moment, like a dog which suddenly
recognises a favourite, rushed up to the young Englishman with a wild
cry of gladness, and in hurried accents told him how happy he was to
meet with him, and that he had matters of importance to tell him. It
was at no time easy for Sigismund to arrange his ideas, and now they
were altogether confused, by the triumphant joy which he expressed for
the recent victory of his countrymen over the Duke of Burgundy; and
it was with wonder that Arthur heard his confused and rude but
faithful tale.
"Look you, King Arthur, the Duke had come up with his huge army as far
as Granson, which is near the outlet of the great lake of Neufchatel.
There were five or six hundred Confederates in the place, and they
held it till provisions failed, and then you know they were forced to
give it over. But though hunger is hard to bear, they had better have
borne it a day or two longer, for the butcher Charles hung them all up
by the neck, upon trees round the place,--and there was no swallowing
for them, you know, after such usage as that. Meanwhile all was busy
on our hills, and every man that had a sword or lance accoutred
himself with it. We met at Neufchatel, and some Germans joined us with
the noble Duke of Lorraine. Ah, King Arthur, there is a leader!--we
all think him second but to Rudolph of Donnerhugel--you saw him even
now--it was he that went into that room--and you saw him before,--it
is he that was the Blue Knight of Bâle; but we called him Laurenz
then, for Rudolph said his presence among us must not be known to our
father, and I did not know myself at that time who he really was.
Well, when we came to Neufchatel we were a goodly company; we were
fifteen thousand stout Confederates, and of others, Germans and
Lorraine men, I will warrant you five thousand more. We heard that the
Burgundian was sixty thousand in the field; but we heard, at the same
time, that Charles had hung up our brethren like dogs, and the man was
not among us--among the Confederates, I mean--who would stay to count
heads, when the question was to avenge them. I would you could have
heard the roar of fifteen thousand Swiss demanding to be led against
the butcher of their brethren! My father himself, who, you know, is
usually so eager for peace, now gave the first voice for battle; so,
in the grey of the morning, we descended the lake towards Granson,
with tears in our eyes and weapons in our hands, determined to have
death or vengeance. We came to a sort of strait, between Vauxmoreux
and the lake; there were horse on the level ground between the
mountain and the lake, and a large body of infantry on the side of the
hill. The Duke of Lorraine and his followers engaged the horse, while
we climbed the hill to dispossess the infantry. It was with us the
affair of a moment. Every man of us was at home among the crags, and
Charles's men were stuck among them as thou wert, Arthur, when thou
didst first come to Geierstein. But there were no kind maidens to lend
them their hands to help them down. No, no--There were pikes, clubs,
and halberds, many a one, to dash and thrust them from places where
they could hardly keep their feet had there been no one to disturb
them. So the horsemen, pushed by the Lorrainers, and seeing us upon
their flanks, fled as fast as their horses could carry them. Then we
drew together again on a fair field, which is _buon campagna_, as the
Italian says, where the hills retire from the lake. But lo you, we had
scarce arrayed our ranks, when we heard such a din and clash of
instruments, such a trample of their great horses, such a shouting and
crying of men, as if all the soldiers, and all the minstrels in France
and Germany, were striving which should make the loudest noise. Then
there was a huge cloud of dust approaching us, and we began to see we
must do or die, for this was Charles and his whole army come to
support his vanguard. A blast from the mountain dispersed the dust,
for they had halted to prepare for battle. Oh, good Arthur! you would
have given ten years of life but to have seen the sight. There were
thousands of horse all in complete array, glancing against the sun,
and hundreds of knights with crowns of gold and silver on their
helmets, and thick masses of spears on foot, and cannon, as they call
them. I did not know what things they were, which they drew on heavily
with bullocks and placed before their army, but I knew more of them
before the morning was over. Well, we were ordered to draw up in a
hollow square, as we are taught at exercise, and before we pushed
forwards we were commanded, as is the godly rule and guise of our
warfare, to kneel down and pray to God, Our Lady, and the blessed
saints; and we afterwards learned that Charles, in his arrogance,
thought we asked for mercy--Ha! ha! ha! a proper jest. If my father
once knelt to him, it was for the sake of Christian blood and godly
peace; but on the field of battle Arnold Biederman would not have
knelt to him and his whole chivalry, though he had stood alone with
his sons on that field. Well, but Charles, supposing we asked grace,
was determined to show us that we had asked it at a graceless face,
for he cried, 'Fire my cannon on the coward slaves; it is all the
mercy they have to expect from me!'--Bang--bang--bang--off went the
things I told you of, like thunder and lightning, and some mischief
they did, but the less that we were kneeling; and the saints
doubtless gave the huge balls a hoist over the heads of those who were
asking grace from them, but from no mortal creatures. So we had the
signal to rise and rush on, and I promise you there were no sluggards.
Every man felt ten men's strength. My halberd is no child's toy--if
you have forgotten it, there it is--and yet it trembled in my grasp as
if it had been a willow wand to drive cows with. On we went, when
suddenly the cannon were silent, and the earth shook with another and
continued growl and battering, like thunder under ground. It was the
men-at-arms rushing to charge us. But our leaders knew their trade,
and had seen such a sight before--it was, Halt, halt--kneel down in
the front--stoop in the second rank--close shoulder to shoulder like
brethren, lean all spears forward and receive them like an iron wall!
On they rushed, and there was a rending of lances that would have
served the Unterwalden old women with splinters of firewood for a
twelvemonth. Down went armed horse--down went accoutred knight--down
went banner and bannerman--down went peaked boot and crowned helmet,
and of those who fell not a man escaped with life. So they drew off in
confusion, and were getting in order to charge again, when the noble
Duke Ferrand and his horsemen dashed at them in their own way, and we
moved onward to support him. Thus on we pressed, and the foot hardly
waited for us, seeing their cavalry so handled. Then if you had seen
the dust and heard the blows! the noise of a hundred thousand
thrashers, the flight of the chaff which they drive about, would be
but a type of it. On my word, I almost thought it shame to dash about
my halberd, the rout was so helplessly piteous. Hundreds were slain
unresisting, and the whole army was in complete flight."
"My father--my father!" exclaimed Arthur. "In such a rout, what can
have become of him?"
"He escaped safely," said the Swiss; "fled with Charles."
"It must have been a bloody field ere he fled," replied the
Englishman.
"Nay," answered Sigismund, "he took no part in the fight, but merely
remained by Charles; and prisoners said it was well for us, for that
he is a man of great counsel and action in the wars. And as to flying,
a man in such a matter must go back if he cannot press forward, and
there is no shame in it, especially if you be not engaged in your own
person."
As he spoke thus, their conversation was interrupted by Mordaunt, with
"Hush, hush--the King and Queen come forth."
"What am I to do?" said Sigismund, in some alarm. "I care not for the
Duke of Lorraine; but what am I to do when kings and queens enter?"
"Do nothing but rise, unbonnet yourself, and be silent."
Sigismund did as he was directed.
King René came forth arm in arm with his grandson; and Margaret
followed, with deep disappointment and vexation on her brow. She
signed to Arthur as she passed, and said to him--"Make thyself master
of the truth of this most unexpected news, and bring the particulars
to me. Mordaunt will introduce thee."
She then cast a look on the young Swiss, and replied courteously to
his awkward salutation. The royal party then left the room, René bent
on carrying his grandson to the sporting-party, which had been
interrupted, and Margaret to seek the solitude of her private
apartment, and await the confirmation of what she regarded as evil
tidings.
They were no sooner passed than Sigismund observed,--"And so that is a
King and Queen!--Peste! the King looks somewhat like old Jacomo, the
violer, that used to scrape on the fiddle to us when he came to
Geierstein in his rounds. But the Queen is a stately creature. The
chief cow of the herd, who carries the bouquets and garlands, and
leads the rest to the chalet, has not a statelier pace. And how deftly
you approached her and spoke to her! I could not have done it with so
much grace--But it is like that you have served apprentice to the
court trade?"
"Leave that for the present, good Sigismund," answered Arthur, "and
tell me more of this battle."
"By St. Mary, but I must have some victuals and drink first," said
Sigismund, "if your credit in this fine place reaches so far."
"Doubt it not, Sigismund," said Arthur; and, by the intervention of
Mordaunt, he easily procured, in a more retired apartment, a collation
and wine, to which the young Biederman did great honour, smacking his
lips with much gusto after the delicious wines, to which, in spite of
his father's ascetic precepts, his palate was beginning to be
considerably formed and habituated. When he found himself alone with a
flask of _côté roti_ and a biscuit, and his friend Arthur, he was
easily led to continue his tale of conquest.
"Well--where was I?--Oh, where we broke their infantry--well--they
never rallied, and fell into greater confusion at every step--and we
might have slaughtered one half of them, had we not stopped to examine
Charles's camp. Mercy on us, Arthur, what a sight was there! Every
pavilion was full of rich clothes, splendid armour, and great dishes
and flagons, which some men said were of silver; but I knew there was
not so much silver in the world, and was sure they must be of pewter,
rarely burnished. Here there were hosts of laced lackeys, and grooms,
and pages, and as many attendants as there were soldiers in the army;
and thousands, for what I knew, of pretty maidens. By the same token,
both menials and maidens placed themselves at the disposal of the
victors; but I promise you that my father was right severe on any who
would abuse the rights of war. But some of our young men did not mind
him, till he taught them obedience with the staff of his halberd.
Well, Arthur, there was fine plundering, for the Germans and French
that were with us rifled everything, and some of our men followed the
example--it is very catching--So I got into Charles's own pavilion,
where Rudolph and some of his people were trying to keep out every
one, that he might have the spoiling of it himself, I think; but
neither he, nor any Bernese of them all, dared lay truncheon over my
pate; so I entered, and saw them putting piles of pewter-trenchers, so
clean as to look like silver, into chests and trunks. I pressed
through them into the inner place, and there was Charles's
pallet-bed--I will do him justice, it was the only hard one in his
camp--and there were fine sparkling stones and pebbles lying about
among gauntlets, boots, vambraces, and suchlike gear--So I thought of
your father and you, and looked for something, when what should I see
but my old friend here" (here he drew Queen Margaret's necklace from
his bosom), "which I knew, because you remember I recovered it from
the Scharfgerichter at Brisach.--'Oho! you pretty sparklers,' said I,
'you shall be Burgundian no longer, but go back to my honest English
friends,' and therefore"----
"It is of immense value," said Arthur, "and belongs not to my father
or to me, but to the Queen you saw but now."
"And she will become it rarely," answered Sigismund. "Were she but a
score, or a score and a half years younger, she were a gallant wife
for a Swiss landholder. I would warrant her to keep his household in
high order."
"She will reward thee liberally for recovering her property," said
Arthur, scarce suppressing a smile at the idea of the proud Margaret
becoming the housewife of a Swiss shepherd.
"How--reward!" said the Swiss. "Bethink thee I am Sigismund Biederman,
the son of the Landamman of Unterwalden--I am not a base lanzknecht,
to be paid for courtesy with piastres. Let her grant me a kind word of
thanks, or the matter of a kiss, and I am well contented."
"A kiss of her hand, perhaps," said Arthur, again smiling at his
friend's simplicity.
"Umph, the hand! Well, it may do for a queen of some fifty years and
odd, but would be poor homage to a Queen of May."
Arthur here brought back the youth to the subject of his battle, and
learned that the slaughter of the Duke's forces in the flight had
been in no degree equal to the importance of the action.
"Many rode off on horseback," said Sigismund; "and our German
_reiters_ flew on the spoil, when they should have followed the chase.
And besides, to speak truth, Charles's camp delayed our very selves in
the pursuit; but had we gone half a mile farther, and seen our friends
hanging on trees, not a Confederate would have stopped from the chase
while he had limbs to carry him in pursuit."
"And what has become of the Duke?"
"Charles has retreated into Burgundy, like a boar who has felt the
touch of the spear, and is more enraged than hurt; but is, they say,
sad and sulky. Others report that he has collected all his scattered
army, and immense forces besides, and has screwed his subjects to give
him money, so that we may expect another brush. But all Switzerland
will join us after such a victory."
"And my father is with him?" said Arthur.
"Truly he is, and has in a right godly manner tried to set afoot a
treaty of peace with my own father. But it will scarce succeed.
Charles is as mad as ever; and our people are right proud of our
victory, and so they well may. Nevertheless, my father forever
preaches that such victories, and such heaps of wealth, will change
our ancient manners, and that the ploughman will leave his labour to
turn soldier. He says much about it; but why money, choice meat and
wine, and fine clothing should do so much harm, I cannot bring my poor
brains to see--And many better heads than mine are as much
puzzled.--Here's to you, friend Arthur!--This is choice liquor!"
"And what brings you and your general, Prince Ferrand, post to
Nancy?" said the young Englishman.
"Faith, you are yourself the cause of our journey."
"I the cause?" said Arthur.--"Why, how could that be?"
"Why, it is said you and Queen Margaret are urging this old fiddling
King René to yield up his territories to Charles, and to disown
Ferrand in his claim upon Lorraine. And the Duke of Lorraine sent a
man that you know well--that is, you do not know _him_, but you know
some of his family, and he knows more of you than you wot--to put a
spoke in your wheel, and prevent your getting for Charles the county
of Provence, or preventing Ferrand being troubled or traversed in his
natural rights over Lorraine."
"On my word, Sigismund, I cannot comprehend you," said Arthur.
"Well," replied the Swiss, "my lot is a hard one. All our house say
that I can comprehend nothing, and I shall be next told that nobody
can comprehend me.--Well, in plain language, I mean my uncle, Count
Albert, as he calls himself, of Geierstein--my father's brother."
"Anne of Geierstein's father!" echoed Arthur.
"Ay, truly; I thought we should find some mark to make you know him
by."
"But I never saw him."
"Ay, but you have, though--An able man he is, and knows more of every
man's business than the man does himself. Oh! it was not for nothing
that he married the daughter of a Salamander!"
"Pshaw, Sigismund, how can you believe that nonsense?" answered
Arthur.
"Rudolph told me you were as much bewildered as I was that night at
Graffs-lust," answered the Swiss.
"If I were so, I was the greater ass for my pains," answered Arthur.
"Well, but this uncle of mine has got some of the old conjuring books
from the library at Arnheim, and they say he can pass from place to
place with more than mortal speed; and that he is helped in his
designs by mightier counsellors than mere men. Always, however, though
so able and highly endowed, his gifts, whether coming from a lawful or
unlawful quarter, bring him no abiding advantage. He is eternally
plunged into strife and danger."
"I know few particulars of his life," said Arthur, disguising as much
as he could his anxiety to hear more of him; "but I have heard that he
left Switzerland to join the Emperor."
"True," answered the young Swiss, "and married the young Baroness of
Arnheim,--but afterwards he incurred my namesake's imperial
displeasure, and not less that of the Duke of Austria. They say you
cannot live in Rome and strive with the Pope; so my uncle thought it
best to cross the Rhine, and betake himself to Charles's court, who
willingly received noblemen from all countries, so that they had good
sounding names, with the title of Count, Marquis, Baron, or suchlike,
to march in front of them. So my uncle was most kindly received; but
within this year or two all this friendship has been broken up. Uncle
Albert obtained a great lead in some mysterious societies, of which
Charles disapproved, and set so hard at my poor uncle, that he was
fain to take orders and shave his hair, rather than lose his head.
But though he cut off his hair, his brain remains as busy as ever; and
although the Duke suffered him to be at large, yet he found him so
often in his way, that all men believed he waited but an excuse for
seizing upon him and putting him to death. But my uncle persists that
he fears not Charles; and that, Duke as he is, Charles has more
occasion to be afraid of him.--And so you saw how boldly he played his
part at La Ferette."
"By St. George of Windsor!" exclaimed Arthur, "the Black Priest of St.
Paul's?"
"Oho! you understand me now. Well, he took it upon him that Charles
would not dare to punish him for his share in De Hagenbach's death;
and no more did he, although uncle Albert sat and voted in the Estates
of Burgundy, and stirred them up all he could to refuse giving Charles
the money he asked of them. But when the Swiss war broke out, uncle
Albert became assured his being a clergyman would be no longer his
protection, and that the Duke intended to have him accused of
corresponding with his brother and countrymen; and so he appeared
suddenly in Ferrand's camp at Neufchatel, and sent a message to
Charles that he renounced his allegiance, and bid him defiance."
"A singular story of an active and versatile man," said the young
Englishman.
"Oh, you may seek the world for a man like uncle Albert. Then he knows
everything; and he told Duke Ferrand what you were about here, and
offered to go and bring more certain information--ay, though he left
the Swiss camp but five or six days before the battle, and the
distance between Arles and Neufchatel be four hundred miles complete,
yet he met him on his return, when Duke Ferrand, with me to show him
the way, was hastening hitherward, having set off from the very field
of battle."
"Met him!" said Arthur--"Met whom?--Met the Black Priest of St.
Paul's?"
"Ay, I mean so," replied Sigismund; "but he was habited as a Carmelite
monk."
"A Carmelite!" said Arthur, a sudden light flashing on him; "and I was
so blind as to recommend his services to the Queen! I remember well
that he kept his face much concealed in his cowl--and I, foolish
beast, to fall so grossly into the snare!--And yet perhaps it is as
well the transaction was interrupted, since I fear, if carried
successfully through, all must have been disconcerted by this
astounding defeat."
Their conversation had thus far proceeded, when Mordaunt appearing,
summoned Arthur to his royal mistress's apartment. In that gay palace,
a gloomy room, whose windows looked upon some part of the ruins of the
Roman edifice, but excluded every other object, save broken walls and
tottering columns, was the retreat which Margaret had chosen for her
own. She received Albert with a kindness more touching that it was the
inmate of so proud and fiery a disposition,--of a heart assailed with
many woes, and feeling them severely.
"Alas, poor Arthur!" she said, "thy life begins where thy father's
threatens to end, in useless labour to save a sinking vessel. The
rushing leak pours in its waters faster than human force can lighten
or discharge. All--all goes wrong, when our unhappy cause becomes
connected with it--Strength becomes weakness, wisdom folly, and
valour cowardice. The Duke of Burgundy, hitherto victorious in all his
bold undertakings, has but to entertain the momentary thought of
yielding succour to Lancaster, and behold his sword is broken by a
peasant's flail; and his disciplined army, held to be the finest in
the world, flies like chaff before the wind; while their spoils are
divided by renegade German hirelings, and barbarous Alpine
shepherds!--What more hast thou learned of this strange tale?"
"Little, madam, but what you have heard. The worst additions are, that
the battle was shamefully cowardlike, and completely lost, with every
advantage to have won it--the best, that the Burgundian army has been
rather dispersed than destroyed, and that the Duke himself has
escaped, and is rallying his forces in Upper Burgundy."
"To sustain a new defeat, or engage in a protracted and doubtful
contest, fatal to his reputation as defeat itself. Where is thy
father?"
"With the Duke, madam, as I have been informed," replied Arthur.
"Hie to him, and say I charge him to look after his own safety, and
care no further for my interests. This last blow has sunk me--I am
without an ally, without a friend, without treasure"----
"Not so, madam," replied Arthur. "One piece of good fortune has
brought back to your Grace this inestimable relic of your
fortunes."--And, producing the precious necklace, he gave the history
of its recovery.
"I rejoice at the chance which has restored these diamonds," said the
Queen, "that in point of gratitude, at least, I may not be utterly
bankrupt. Carry them to your father--tell him my schemes are
over--and my heart, which so long clung to hope, is broken at
last.--Tell him the trinkets are his own, and to his own use let him
apply them. They will but poorly repay the noble earldom of Oxford,
lost in the cause of her who sends them."
"Royal madam," said the youth, "be assured my father would sooner live
by service as a _schwarzreiter_, than become a burden on your
misfortunes."
"He never yet disobeyed command of mine," said Margaret; "and this is
the last I will lay upon him. If he is too rich or too proud to
benefit by his Queen's behest, he will find enough of poor
Lancastrians who have fewer means or fewer scruples."
"There is yet a circumstance I have to communicate," said Arthur, and
recounted the history of Albert of Geierstein, and the disguise of a
Carmelite monk.
"Are you such a fool," answered the Queen, "as to suppose this man has
any supernatural powers to aid him in his ambitious projects and his
hasty journeys?"
"No, madam--but it is whispered that the Count Albert of Geierstein,
or this Black Priest of St. Paul's, is a chief amongst the Secret
Societies of Germany, which even princes dread whilst they hate them;
for the man that can command a hundred daggers must be feared even by
those who rule thousands of swords."
"Can this person," said the Queen, "being now a Churchman, retain
authority amongst those who deal in life and death? It is contrary to
the canons."
"It would seem so, royal madam; but everything in these dark
institutions differs from what is practised in the light of day.
Prelates are often heads of a Vehmique bench, and the Archbishop of
Cologne exercises the dreadful office of their chief as Duke of
Westphalia, the principal region in which these societies
flourish.[11] Such privileges attach to the secret influence of the
chiefs of this dark association, as may well seem supernatural to
those who are unapprised of circumstances of which men shun to speak
in plain terms."
"Let him be wizard or assassin," said the Queen, "I thank him for
having contributed to interrupt my plan of the old man's cession of
Provence, which, as events stand, would have stripped René of his
dominions, without furthering our plan of invading England.--Once
more, be stirring with the dawn, and bend thy way back to thy father,
and charge him to care for himself and think no more of me. Bretagne,
where the heir of Lancaster resides, will be the safest place of
refuge for its bravest followers. Along the Rhine, the Invisible
Tribunal, it would seem, haunts both shores, and to be innocent of ill
is no security; even here the proposed treaty with Burgundy may take
air, and the Provençaux carry daggers as well as crooks and pipes. But
I hear the horses fast returning from the hawking-party, and the silly
old man, forgetting all the eventful proceedings of the day,
whistling as he ascends the steps. Well, we will soon part, and my
removal will be, I think, a relief to him. Prepare for banquet and
ball, for noise and nonsense--above all, to bid adieu to Aix with
morning dawn."
Thus dismissed from the Queen's presence, Arthur's first care was to
summon Thiebault to have all things in readiness for his departure;
his next, to prepare himself for the pleasures of the evening, not
perhaps so heavily affected by the failure of his negotiation as to be
incapable of consolation in such a scene; for the truth was, that his
mind secretly revolted at the thoughts of the simple old King being
despoiled of his dominions to further an invasion of England, in
which, whatever interest he might have in his daughter's rights, there
was little chance of success.
If such feelings were censurable, they had their punishment. Although
few knew how completely the arrival of the Duke of Lorraine, and the
intelligence he brought with him, had disconcerted the plans of Queen
Margaret, it was well known there had been little love betwixt the
Queen and his mother Yolande; and the young Prince found himself at
the head of a numerous party in the court of his grandfather, who
disliked his aunt's haughty manners, and were wearied by the unceasing
melancholy of her looks and conversation, and her undisguised contempt
of the frivolities which passed around her. Ferrand, besides, was
young, handsome, a victor just arrived from a field of battle, fought
gloriously, and gained against all chances to the contrary. That he
was a general favourite, and excluded Arthur Philipson, as an
adherent of the unpopular Queen, from the notice her influence had on
a former evening procured him, was only a natural consequence of their
relative condition. But what somewhat hurt Arthur's feelings was to
see his friend Sigismund the Simple, as his brethren called him,
shining with the reflected glory of the Duke Ferrand of Lorraine, who
introduced to all the ladies present the gallant young Swiss as Count
Sigismund of Geierstein. His care had procured for his follower a
dress rather more suitable for such a scene than the country attire of
the count, otherwise Sigismund Biederman.
For a certain time, whatever of novelty is introduced into society is
pleasing, though it has nothing else to recommend it. The Swiss were
little known personally out of their own country, but they were much
talked of; it was a recommendation to be of that country. Sigismund's
manners were blunt--a mixture of awkwardness and rudeness, which was
termed frankness during the moment of his favour. He spoke bad French
and worse Italian--it gave naïveté to all he said. His limbs were too
bulky to be elegant; his dancing, for Count Sigismund failed not to
dance, was the bounding and gambolling of a young elephant; yet they
were preferred to the handsome proportions and courtly movements of
the youthful Englishman, even by the black-eyed countess in whose good
graces Arthur had made some progress on the preceding evening. Arthur,
thus thrown into the shade, felt as Mr. Pepys afterwards did when he
tore his camlet cloak--the damage was not great, but it troubled him.
Nevertheless, the passing evening brought him some revenge. There are
some works of art the defects of which are not seen till they are
injudiciously placed in too strong a light, and such was the case with
Sigismund the Simple. The quick-witted though fantastic Provençaux
soon found out the heaviness of his intellect, and the extent of his
good-nature, and amused themselves at his expense, by ironical
compliments and well-veiled raillery. It is probable they would have
been less delicate on the subject, had not the Swiss brought into the
dancing-room along with him his eternal halberd, the size and weight
and thickness of which boded little good to any one whom the owner
might detect in the act of making merry at his expense. But Sigismund
did no further mischief that night, except that, in achieving a superb
_entrechat_, he alighted with his whole weight on the miniature foot
of his pretty partner, which he well-nigh crushed to pieces.
Arthur had hitherto avoided looking towards Queen Margaret during the
course of the evening, lest he should disturb her thoughts from the
channel in which they were rolling, by seeming to lay a claim on her
protection. But there was something so whimsical in the awkward
physiognomy of the maladroit Swiss, that he could not help glancing an
eye to the alcove where the Queen's chair of state was placed, to see
if she observed him. The very first view was such as to rivet his
attention. Margaret's head was reclined on the chair, her eyes
scarcely open, her features drawn up and pinched, her hands closed
with effort. The English lady of honour who stood behind her--old,
deaf, and dim-sighted--had not discovered anything in her mistress's
position more than the abstracted and indifferent attitude with which
the Queen was wont to be present in body and absent in mind during the
festivities of the Provençal court. But when Arthur, greatly alarmed,
came behind the seat to press her attention to her mistress, she
exclaimed, after a minute's investigation, "Mother of Heaven, the
Queen is dead!" And it was so. It seemed that the last fibre of life,
in that fiery and ambitious mind, had, as she herself prophesied,
given way at the same time with the last thread of political hope.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] The Archbishop of Cologne was recognised as head of all the Free
Tribunals (_i.e._ the Vehmique benches) in Westphalia, by a writ of
privilege granted in 1335 by the Emperor Charles IV. Winceslaus
confirmed this act by a privilege dated 1382, in which the Archbishop
is termed Grand Master of the Vehme, or Grand Inquisitor. And this
prelate and other priests were encouraged to exercise such office by
Pope Boniface III., whose ecclesiastical discipline permitted them in
such cases to assume the right of judging in matters of life and
death.