THE COZENING OF THE AMBASSADOR
The next moment Joan had disappeared, and when she was seen again she
had assumed the skirt she had previously worn over her dress of
forester, and was again the sedate lady of the castle, ready to lead the
dance, grace the banquet, or entertain the High State's Councillor of
Plassenburg, Leopold von Dessauer.
But when she went upstairs she met on the middle flight a grey-bearded
man with a skull cap of black velvet upon his head. His dress also was
of black, of a distinguishing plain richness and dignity.
"Whither away, Ambassador?" she cried gaily at the sight of him.
"To see to your principal's wound and that of the other whom your sword
countered in the trial bout!"
"What? You saw?" said the Duchess, with a quick flush.
"I am indeed privileged not to be blind," said Dessauer; "and never did
I see a sight that contented me more."
"And you stood at the window saying in your heart (nay, do not deny it)
'unwomanly--bold--not like my lady the Princess of Plassenburg. She
would not thus ruffle in the courtyard with the men-at-arms!'"
"I said no such thing," said the High Councillor. "I am an old man and
have seen many fair women, many sweet princesses, each perfect to their
lovers, some of them even perfect to their lords. But I have never
before seen a Duchess Joan of Hohenstein."
"Ambassador," cried the girl, "if you speak thus and with that flash of
the eye, I shall have to bethink me whether you come not as an
ambassador for your own cause."
"I would that I were forty years younger and a prince in my own right,
instead of a penniless old baron. Why, then, I would not come on any
man's errand--no, nor take a refusal even from your fair lips!"
"I declare," said the Duchess Joan impetuously, "you should have no
refusal from me. You are the only man I have ever met who can speak of
love and yet be tolerable. It is a pity that my father left me the evil
heritage that I must wed the Prince of Courtland or lose my dominions!"
At the sound of the name of her predestined husband a sudden flashing
thought seemed to wake in the girl's breast.
"My lord," she said, "is it true that you go to Courtland after leaving
our poor eagle's nest up here on the cliffs of the Kernsberg?"
Von Dessauer bowed, smiling at her. He was not too old to love beauty
and frankness in women. "It is true that I have a mission from my Prince
and Princess to the Prince of Courtland and Wilna. But----"
Joan of the Sword clasped her hands and drew a long breath.
"I would not ask it of any man in the world but yourself," she said,
"but will you let me go with you?"
"My dear lady," said Dessauer, with swift deprecation, "to go with the
ambassador of another power to the court and palace of the man you are
to marry--that were a tale indeed, salt enough even for the Princes of
Ritterdom. As it is----"
The Duchess looked across at Dessauer with great haughtiness. "As it is,
they talk more than enough about me already," she said. "Well--I know,
and care not. I am no puling maid that waits till she is authorised by
a conclave of the empire before she dares wipe her nose when she hath a
cold in the head. Joan of the Sword Hand cares not what any prince may
say--from yours of Plassenburg, him of the Red Axe, to the fat Margraf
George."
"Oh, our Prince, he says naught, but does much," said Dessauer. "He hath
been a rough blade in his time, but Karl the Miller's son mellowed him,
and by now his own Princess hath fairly civilised him."
"Well," said Joan of the Sword, with determination, "then it is settled.
I am coming with you to Courtland."
A shade of anxiety passed over Dessauer's countenance. "My lady," he
answered, "you let me use many freedoms of speech with you. It is the
privilege of age and frailty. But let me tell you that the thing is
plainly foolish. Hardly under the escort of the Empress herself would it
be possible for you to visit, without scandal, the court of the Prince
of Courtland and Wilna. But in the train of an envoy of Plassenburg,
even if that ambassador be poor old Leopold von Dessauer, the thing, I
must tell you, is frankly impossible."
"Well, I am coming, at any rate!" said Joan, as usual rejecting argument
and falling back upon assertion. "Make your count with that, friend of
mine, whether you are shocked or no. It is the penalty a respectable
diplomatist has to pay for cultivating the friendship of lone females
like Joan of Hohenstein."
Von Dessauer held up his hands in horror that was more than half
affected.
"My girl," he said, "I might be your grandfather, it is true, but do not
remind me of it too often. But if I were your great-great-grandfather
the thing you propose is still impossible. Think of what the Margraf
George and his chattering train would say!"
"Think of what every fathead princeling and beer-swilling ritter from
here to Basel would say!" cried Joan, with her pretty nose in the air.
"Let them say! They will not say anything that I care the snap of my
finger for. And in their hearts they will envy you the experience--shall
we say the privilege?"
"Nay, I thought not of myself, my lady," said Dessauer, "for an old man,
a mere anatomy of bones and parchment, I take strange pleasure in your
society--more than I ought, I tell you frankly. You are to me more than
a daughter, though I am but a poor baron of Plassenburg and the faithful
servant of the Princess Helene. It is for your own sake that I say you
cannot come to Wilna with me. Shall the future Princess of Courtland and
Wilna ride in the train of an ambassador of Plassenburg to the palace in
which she is soon to reign as queen?"
"I said not that I would go as the Duchess," Joan replied, speaking low.
"You say that you saw me at the fight in the courtyard out there. If you
will not have the Duchess Joan von Hohenstein, what say you to the
Sparhawk's second, Johann the Squire?"
Dessauer started.
"You dare not," he said; "why, there is not a lady in the German land,
from Bohemia to the Baltic, that dares do as much."
"Ladies," flashed Joan--"I am sick for ever of hearing that a lady must
not do this or that, go here or there, because of her so fragile
reputation. She may do needlework or embroider altar-cloths, but she
must not shoot with a pistolet or play with a sword. Well, I am a lady;
let him counter it who durst. And I cannot broider altar-cloths and I
will not try--but I can shoot with any man at the flying mark. She must
have a care for her honour, which (poor, feckless wretch!) will be
smirched if she speaks to any as a man speaks to his fellows. Faith! For
me I would rather die than have such an egg-shell reputation. I can care
for mine own. I need none to take up my quarrel. If any have a word to
say upon the repute of Joan of the Sword Hand--why, let him say it at
the point of her rapier."
The girl stood up, tall and straight, her head thrown back as it were
at the world, with an exact and striking counterpart of the defiance of
the young Dane in the presence of his enemies an hour before. Dessauer
stood wavering. With quick tact she altered her tone, and with a soft
accent and in a melting voice she added, "Ah, let me come. I will make
such a creditable squire all in a suit of blue and silver, with just a
touch of nutty juice upon my face that my old nurse knows the secret
of."
Still Dessauer stood silent, weighing difficulties and chances.
"I tell you what," she cried, pursuing her advantage, "I will see the
man I am to marry as men see him, without trappings and furbelows. And
if you will not take me, by my faith! I will send Werner there, whom you
saw fight the Dane, as my own envoy, and go with him as a page. On the
honour of Henry the Lion, my father, I will do it!"
Von Dessauer capitulated. "A wilful woman"--he smiled--"a wilful, wilful
woman. Well, I am not responsible for aught of this, save for my own
weakness in permitting it. It is a madcap freak, and no good will come
of it."
"But you will like it!" she said. "Oh, yes, you will like it very much.
For, you see, you are fond of madcaps."