JOAN FORSWEARS THE SWORD
It was not in accordance with etiquette that two such nobly born
betrothed persons, to be allied for reasons of high State policy, should
visit each other openly before the day of marriage; but many letters and
presents had at various times come to Kernsberg, all bearing witness to
the lover-like eagerness of the Prince of Courtland and of his desire to
possess so fair a bride, especially one who was to bring him so coveted
a possession as the hill provinces of Kernsberg and Hohenstein.
Amongst other things he had forwarded portraits of himself, drawn with
such skill as the artists of the Baltic at that time possessed, of a man
in armour, with a countenance of such wooden severity that it might
stand (as the Duchess openly declared) just as well for Werner, her
chief captain, or any other man of war in full panoply.
"But," said Joan within herself, "what care I for armour black or armour
white? Mine eyes have seen--and my heart does not forget."
Then she smiled and for a while forgot the coming inevitable
disappointment of the Princess Margaret, which troubled her much at
other times.
The winter was unusually long and fierce in the mountains of Kernsberg
that year, and even along the Baltic shores the ice packed thicker and
the snow lay longer by a full month than usual.
It was the end of May, and the full bursting glory of a northern
spring, when at last the bridal cavalcade wound down from the towers of
the Castle of Kernsberg. Four hundred riders there were, every man
arrayed like a prince in the colours of Hohenstein--four fairest maids
to be bridesmaids to their Duchess, and as many matrons of rank and
years to bring their mistress with dignity and discretion to her new
home. But the people and the rough soldiers openly mourned for Joan of
the Sword Hand. "The Princess of Courtland will not be the same thing!"
they said.
And they were right, for since the last time she rode out Joan had
thought many thoughts. Could it be that she was indeed that reckless
maid who once had vowed that she would go and look once at the man her
father had bidden her marry, and then, if she did not like him, would
carry him off and clap him into a dungeon till he had paid a swinging
ransom? But the knight of the white plume, and the interview she had had
with a certain Prince in the summer palace of Courtland, had changed all
that.
Now she would be sober, grave--a fit mate for such a man. Almost she
blushed to recall her madcap feats of only a year ago.
As they approached the city, and each night brought them closer to the
great day, Joan rode more by herself, or talked with the young Dane,
Maurice von Lynar, of the Princess Margaret--without, however, telling
him aught of the rose garden or the expositions of foreign customs which
had preceded the duel with the Wasp.
The heart of the Duchess beat yet faster when at last the day of their
entry arrived. As they rode toward the gate of Courtland they were aware
of a splendid cavalcade which came out to receive them in the name of
the Prince, and to conduct them with honour to the palace prepared for
them.
In the centre of a brilliant company rode the Princess Margaret, in a
well-fitting robe of pale blue broidered with crimson, while behind and
about her was such a galaxy of the fashion and beauty of a court, that
had not Joan remembered and thought on the summer parlour and the man
who was waiting for her in the city, she had almost bidden her four
hundred riders wheel to the right about, and gallop straight back to
Kernsberg and the heights of rustic Hohenstein.
At sight of the Duchess's party the Princess alighted from off her steed
with the help of a cavalier. At the same moment Joan of the Sword Hand
leaped down of her own accord and came forward to meet her new sister.
The two women kissed, and then held each other at arm's length for the
luxury of a long look.
The face of the Princess showed a trace of emotion. She appeared to be
struggling with some recollection she was unable to locate with
precision.
"I hope you will be very happy with my brother," she faltered; then
after a moment she added, "Have you not perchance a brother of your
own?"
But before Joan could reply the representative of the Prince had come
forward to conduct the bride-elect to her rooms, and the Princess gave
place to him.
But all the same she kept her eyes keenly about her, and presently they
rested with a sudden brightness upon the young Dane, Maurice von Lynar,
at the head of his troop of horse. He was near enough for her to see his
face, and it was with a curious sense of strangeness that she saw his
eyes fixed upon herself.
"He is different--he is changed," she said to herself; "but how--wait
till we get to the palace, and I shall soon find out!"
And immediately she caused it to be intimated that all the captains of
troops and the superior officers of the escort of the Duchess Joan were
to be entertained at the palace of the Princess Margaret.
So that at the moment when Joan was taking a first survey of her
chambers, which occupied one entire wing of the Palace of the Princes of
Courtland, Margaret the impetuous had already commanded the presence of
the Count von Löen, one of the commanders of the bridal escort.
The young officer entrusted with the message returned almost
immediately, to find his mistress impatiently pacing up and down.
"Well?" she said, halting at the upper end of the reception-room and
looking at him.
"Your Highness," he said, "there is no Count von Löen among the officers
of Kernsberg!"
Margaret of Courtland stamped her foot.
"I expected as much," she said. "He shall pay for this. Why, man, I saw
him with my own eyes an hour ago--a young man, slender, sits erect in
his saddle, of a dark allure, and with eyes like those of an eagle."
A flush came over the youth's face.
"Does he look like the brother of the Duchess Joan?" he said.
"That is the man--Count von Löen or no. That is the man, I tell you.
Bring him immediately to me."
The young officer smiled.
"Methinks he will come readily enough. He started forward as if to
follow me when first I told my message. But when I mentioned the name of
the Count von Löen he stood aside in manifest disappointment."
"At all events, bring him instantly!" commanded the Princess.
The officer bowed low and retired.
The Princess Margaret smiled to herself.
"It is some more of their precious State secrets," she said. "Well--I
love secrets, and I can keep them too; but only my own, or those that
are told to me. And I will make my gentleman pay for playing off his
Counts von Löen on me!"
Presently she heard heavy footsteps approaching the door.
"Come in--come in straightway," she said in a loud, clear voice; "I have
a word to speak with you, Sir Count--who yet deny that you are a count.
And, prithee, to how many silly girls have you taught the foreign
fashions of linked arms, and all that most pleasant ceremony of
leave-taking in Kernsberg and Plassenburg?"
Then the Sparhawk had his long-desired view in full daylight of the
woman whose lips, touched once under cloud of night, had dominated his
fancy and enslaved his will during all the weary months of winter.
Also he had before him, though he knew it not, a somewhat difficult and
complicated explanation.