OF OUR ATTENDANCE IN COUNCIL UPON A GREAT MATTER
WHEN at last this gallant function had come to an end, and madam’s
servants and retainers had been duly sworn and dismissed with goodwill,
and even enthusiasm, upon their side, and a deal of majesty upon hers,
she and her three chief officers--although for one of them, by name Don
Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas, neither emolument nor employ had
been found up to this present--repaired from the heat of the sun to the
coolness of a chamber within the castle to partake of wine and other
refreshment.
“An it please you, madam, it might not come amiss,” said the Count of
Nullepart, “if in my capacity of master of the treasury I ventured to
propose that his lordship’s grace and his trusty fat man be disinterred
from their present situation, which, saving the presence of your
ladyship, may not be without its ignominy.”
“That is well spoken, friend,” said the Countess Sylvia. “Page. Where
is this page of ours? What, have we no page? Come hither, page! Page,
go you to the master armourer, and bid him, as he esteems his place,
to send his smiths immediately to unseal the door of his lordship’s
grace.”
“And of his trusty fat man,” said the Count of Nullepart.
“And of his trusty fat man,” said our mistress; “although that fat man
is so foolish as a dish of butter.”
“Touching my emoluments,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, eating his meat
almost as grossly as he did in the inn; “touching my emoluments,
countess, madam, and ladyship, it has entered my mind that it would
accord with my merit if in addition to my other honours I received the
more signal one of mastership of your ladyship’s treasury.”
“Peace, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said his mistress sternly; “and do you
endeavour to eat your roast pig like a Christian gentleman. Endeavour,
sirrah, to imitate the courteous delicacy in his feeding of the
worshipful Count of Nullepart. But peace, I say, for I would engage
the officers of my household upon a great affair. This castle is in
peril. I do fear that the rude Castilian and all his men will soon be
knocking on the gate. Would you have me dig pits and lay snares, Sirrah
Red Dragon, for you are our man of war? We have but three hundred
men-at-arms, and our villainous cousin will reckon his host by the
thousand.”
“By my hand,” said the Englishman, “this is a kettle of fish.”
He fell again into the habit of stroking his chin, and it was
remarkable to notice how a certain licence that was formerly to be
seen in his demeanour was suddenly found in it no more. “I am fain to
observe, madam,” said he with his new gravity, that seemed to have
worked a miracle within him, “that here is a pretty work to be done.”
“Done it shall be, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said the Countess Sylvia. “If we
spend every drop of our blood and that of every liege that is pledged
to our service, the Castilian shall not enter here; do you mark me,
sirrah!”
“We must address ourselves,” said the Englishman, “to providing this
garrison with arms and ordnance, sack and sugar, for I am sore to
believe we shall have to stand a siege. Madam, we must look to our
provision without delay, if we are to throw the gauntlet down.”
“It shall be done, sirrah; this Castilian shall have a welcome. How
long, bethink you, sirrah, can we hold this place with our three
hundred men-at-arms?”
“Two years, madam, with sufficient munitions of war. But these are to
obtain.”
“To-morrow,” said the Countess Sylvia, who, considering that she knew
no more of the world than her convent had taught her, showed a great
talent for affairs, “the hinds shall drive in the cattle from our
outlying farms; and arms and every sort of munition shall be purchased
so long as our treasury can provide them.”
“This castle has the appearance of a natural stronghold,” said the
Count of Nullepart, “although it is little I know of war.”
“Three hundred men should give a proud battle,” said I, “if they have
but one half the resolution of their mistress.”
“This is sooth,” said the Englishman; “I think we shall be able to hold
the gate against the king.”
“For mine own part,” said the Count of Nullepart in his winning voice,
“I would suggest that in the beginning we wear a silk gown over
our armour. We have nought to obtain by trying a fall with such an
adversary. Ought we not, bethink you, madam, to see what first can be
done by the gentleness of our address?”
“That is well said, Sir Count,” said she. “He shall have gentle words
in his ears. But remark me, if ever the occasion waits upon us he shall
also learn that we keep a sword.”
“Valiancy in action, subtlety in discourse,” said the Count of
Nullepart. “No kingdom could ask a choicer wisdom, madam. I drink to
you as a proud but as a just and a good princess.”
The sweetness of the Count of Nullepart’s manner made it difficult to
tell whether he toasted the lady in her beauty or the queen in her
statecraft. Before Sir Richard Pendragon and myself, who viewed his
action with no favourable eye, could decide whether such a behaviour
was justified at a moment so grave, for madam in spite of her dignity
had not thought fit to reprove him for it, there came a grievous
interruption to our counsels and the harmony of our board.
His lordship’s grace, with his trusty fat man at his heels, bore down
upon us.
“Ods myself,” he whined, shaking his fist, “if I do not put her in
a dungeon for this I am unfit to wear hose. Soh! there we have you,
little snake, surrounded by your conspirators. Luiz--Luiz; where are
you, Luiz? Go, fetch the guard. These three rogues shall be broke on
the wheel, and then they shall hang on the gate; and madam herself
shall dwell in a dungeon for an hundred days.”
“My lord,” said his daughter calmly, “do not interfere with the
business of the state.”
“Business of the state!” cried the duke. “I would have you to know,
madam, that I am the business of the state. Ods myself! if I had my
sword here I would spill some blood.”
In the violence of his anger the duke became so weak and incoherent
that at last he fell to weeping like a child. And as he was thus
engaged, and wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his rich silk doublet,
Don Luiz had the misfortune to appear with twelve soldiers of the guard.
“Sirrah Red Dragon,” said the Countess Sylvia, turning to the English
giant with a most masterful insolence, “as you value the command of my
good lieges, I would have you see to it that they take that fat fellow,
who is so beastly in his appearance that I hardly dare to give him a
name, and do you have him placed in a strait jerkin. And do you see to
it that he hath neither sack nor sugar, neither grease nor butter, nor
pig, nor flesh of any kind, nor German forcemeat, nor any article of
victual whatsoever that is likely in any degree to inflame his bulk.”
“I obey your command, madam and ladyship. I kneel at your feet,” said
the English giant, making a mighty flourish. The next moment the
unfortunate Don Luiz was marched forth, protesting violently, while the
old duke, at the sight of this grievous affront to his gentleman-usher,
fell to gnashing his teeth one moment and shedding tears the next.
“Where is my authority?” he cried out. “Am I without authority behind
mine own door? Oh, this is grievous, this is grievous! I have a
she-wolf for a daughter and she hath filled my old years with sorrow.
Is there no manhood in Spain! Will none protect a parent from the
machinations of a she-wolf? Do my goodly life and my clement nature go
for nought? Is there no consideration for the aged, who are blind of
eye, who are halt of their gait, who are smitten with ague and loss of
their appetites? Is there no virtue in the whole of this wicked and
ungracious world? Oh me, misery! I could weep till my poor soul was
drowned in a flood of tears.”
“If your lordship’s grace will not bawl like an old bull under the
moon,” said the little countess ruthlessly, “I will give you the leg of
an ortolan. These are great matters we are pledged to consider, and if
your lordship’s grace, which mops and mows like an old grey bear that
hath no teeth to tear its dinner, intrudes upon our deliberations so
unseasonably, we should do better to play at mumchance or to bite our
thumbs. Go into a corner and eat a fowl, and leave this assembly to
thwart the machinations of the rude Castilian.”
“Ay di me!” said the duke, “give me a wing then! This is a nice old
age to be so maltreated. Is there no virtue in the whole of the world!
Ay di me! I am the most misused parent in Spain. Give me a wing then,
proud hulks, give me a wing; and ods my good heart, I will never be a
parent again.”
His lordship’s grace being presently comforted with the carcass of an
ortolan, sat himself down on a stool in a corner of the apartment and
began to devour it fiercely. But hardly had the council resumed its
deliberations, when Sir Richard Pendragon returned wearing a mien of
high authority, and informed his mistress that a messenger was at the
gate bearing a cartel from the Castilian.
“Do you admit him, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said she. “Let him be brought to
our presence. We will hold speech with him.”
As the English giant went on this errand, the Count of Nullepart bent
across the council board, and whispered in the ear of the Countess
Sylvia, “Courteously, courteously, an it like your ladyship. Will madam
deign to remember that many a deep wound hath been abated by a fair
expression?”
“Peace, friend,” said the Countess Sylvia with a queenly look. “My
words are as I want them. I speak this Castilian in what sort I choose;
and I would have him to know that if I speak him soft he shall yet feel
my dagger. I have three hundred men of valiance, and I care not if the
rude Castilian were the King of the Russ.”
Surely a glance so flashing and a bearing of such high disdain never
shone about a mortal creature as those that enhanced this noble thing,
as she sat as staunch as an arrow before the council board, awaiting
the delivery of the cartel from the most powerful prince in Spain.