THE SPARHAWK IN THE TOILS
The Princess Margaret was standing by the window as the young man
entered. Her golden curls flashed in the late sunshine, which made a
kind of haze of light about her head as she turned the resentful
brilliance of her eyes upon Maurice von Lynar.
"Is it a safe thing, think you, Sir Count, to jest with a princess in
her own land and then come back to flout her for it?"
Maurice understood her to refer to the kiss given and returned in the
darkness of the night. He knew not of how many other indiscretions he
was now to bear the brunt, or he had turned on the spot and fled once
more across the river.
"My lady," he said, "if I offended you once, it was not done
intentionally, but by mistake."
"By mistake, sir! Have a care. I may have been indiscreet, but I am not
imbecile."
"The darkness of the night----" faltered von Lynar, "let that be my
excuse."
"Pshaw!" flashed the Princess, suddenly firing up; "do you not see, man,
that you cannot lie yourself out of this? And, indeed, what need? If _I_
were a secretary of embassy, and a princess distinguished me with her
slightest favour, methinks when next I came I would not meanly deny her
acquaintance!"
Von Lynar was distressed, and fortunately for himself his distress
showed in his face.
"Princess," he said, standing humbly before her, "I did wrong. But
consider the sudden temptation, the darkness of the night----"
"The darkness of the night," she said, stamping her foot, and in an
instinctively mocking tone; "you are indeed well inspired. You remind me
of what I ventured that you should be free. The darkness of the night,
indeed! I suppose that is all that sticks in your memory, because you
gained something tangible by it. You have forgotten the walk through the
corridors of the Palace, all you taught me in the rose garden,
and--and--how apt a pupil you said I was. Pray, good Master
Forgetfulness, who hath forgotten all these things, forgotten even his
own name, tell me what you did in Courtland eight months ago?"
"I came--I came," faltered the Sparhawk, fearful of yet further
committing himself, "I came to find and save my dear mistress."
"Your--dear--mistress?" The Princess spoke slowly, and the blue eyes
hardened till they overtopped and beat down the bold black ones of
Maurice von Lynar; "and you dare to tell me this--me, to whom you swore
that you had never loved woman in the world before, never spoken to them
word of wooing or compliment! Out of my sight, fellow! The Prince, my
brother, shall deal with you."
Then all suddenly her pride utterly gave way. The disappointment was too
keen. She sank down on a silk-covered ottoman by the window side,
sobbing.
"Oh, that I could kill you now, with my hands--so," she said in little
furious jerks, gripping at the pillow; "I hate you, thus to put a shame
upon me--me, Margaret of Courtland. Could it have been for such a thing
as you that I sent away the Prince of Muscovy--yes, and many
others--because I could not forget you? And after all----!"
Now Maurice von Lynar was not quick in discernment where woman was
concerned, but on this occasion he recognised that he was blindly
playing the hand of another--a hand, moreover, of which he could not
hope to see the cards. He did the only thing which could have saved him
with the Princess. He came near and sank on one knee before her.
"Madam," he said humbly and in a moving voice, "I beseech you not to be
angry--not to condemn me unheard. In the sense of being in love, I never
loved any but yourself. I would rather die than put the least slight
upon one so surpassingly fair, whose memory has never departed from me,
sleeping or waking, whose image, dimly seen, has never for a moment been
erased from my heart's tablets."
The Princess paused and lifted her eyes till they dwelt searchingly upon
him. His obvious sincerity touched her willing heart.
"But you said just now that you came to Courtland to see 'your dear
mistress?'"
The young man put his hand to his head.
"You must bear with me," he said, "if perchance for a little my words
are wild. I had, indeed, no right to speak of you as my dear mistress."
"Oh, it was of me that you spoke," said the Princess, smiling a little;
"I begin to understand."
"Of what other could I speak?" said the shameless Von Lynar, who now
began to feel his way a little clearer. "I have indeed been very ill,
and when I am in straits my head is still unsettled. Oftentimes I forget
my very name, so sharp a pang striking through my forehead that I dote
and stare and forget all else. It springs from a secret wound that at
the time I knew nothing of."
"Yes--yes, I remember. In the duel with the Wasp--in the yew-tree walk
it happened. Tell me, is it dangerous? Did it well-nigh cost you your
life?"
The youth modestly hung down his head.
This sudden spate of falsehood had come upon him, as it were, from the
outside.
"If the truth will not help me," he muttered, "why, I can lie with any
man. Else wherefore was I born a Dane? But, by my faith, my mistress
must have done some rare tall lying on her own account, and now I am
reaping that which she hath sown."
As he kneeled thus the Princess bent over him with a quizzical
expression on her face.
"You are sure that you speak the truth now? Your wound is not again
causing you to dote?"
"Nay," said the Sparhawk; "indeed, 'tis almost healed."
"Where was the wound?" queried the Princess anxiously.
"There were two," answered Von Lynar diplomatically; "one in my shoulder
at the base of my neck, and the other, more dangerous because internal,
on the head itself."
"Let me see."
She came and stood above him as he put his hand to the collar of his
doublet, and, unfastening a tie, he slipped it down a little and showed
her at the spring of his neck Werner von Orseln's thrust.
"And the other," she said, covering it up with a little shudder, "that
on the head, where is it?"
The youth blushed, but answered valiantly enough.
"It never was an open wound, and so is a little difficult to find. Here,
where my hand is, above my brow."
"Hold up your head," said the Princess. "On which side was it? On the
right? Strange, I cannot find it. You are too far beneath me. The light
falls not aright. Ah, that is better!"
She kneeled down in front of him and examined each side of his head with
interest, making as she did so, many little exclamations of pity and
remorse.
"I think it must be nearer the brow," she said at last; "hold up your
head--look at me."
Von Lynar looked at the Princess. Their position was one as charming as
it was dangerous. They were kneeling opposite to one another, their
faces, drawn together by the interest of the surgical examination, had
approached very close. The dark eyes looked squarely into the blue. With
stuff so inflammable, fire and tow in such immediate conjunction, who
knows what conflagration might have ensued had Von Lynar's eyes
continued thus to dwell on those of the Princess?
But the young man's gaze passed over her shoulder. Behind Margaret of
Courtland he saw a man standing at the door with his hand still on the
latch. A dark frown overspread his face. The Princess, instantly
conscious that the interest had gone out of the situation, followed the
direction of Von Lynar's eyes. She rose to her feet as the young Dane
also had done a moment before.
Maurice recognised the man who stood by the door as the same whom he had
seen on the ground in the yew-tree walk when he and Joan of the Sword
Hand had faced the howling mob of the city. For the second time Prince
Wasp had interfered with the amusements of the Princess Margaret.
That lady looked haughtily at the intruder.
"To what," she said, "am I so fortunate as to owe the unexpected honour
of this visit?"
"I came to pay my respects to your Highness," said Prince Wasp, bowing
low. "I did not know that the Princess was amusing herself. It is my
ill-fortune, not my fault, that I interrupted at a point so full of
interest."
It was the truth. The point was decidedly interesting, and therein lay
the sting of the situation, as probably the Wasp knew full well.
"You are at liberty to leave me now," said the Princess, falling back on
a certain haughty dignity which she kept in reserve behind her headlong
impulsiveness.
"I obey, madam," he replied; "but first I have a message from the Prince
your brother. He asks you to be good enough to accompany his bride to
the minster to-morrow. He has been ill all day with his old trouble, and
so cannot wait in person upon his betrothed. He must abide in solitude
for this day at least. Your Highness is apparently more fortunate!"
The purpose of the insult was plain; but the Princess Margaret
restrained herself, not, however, hating the insulter less.
[Illustration: "The lady looked haughtily at the intruder." [_Page 88_]]
"I pray you, Prince Ivan," she said, "return to my brother and tell him
that his commands are ever an honour, and shall be obeyed to the
letter."
She bowed in dignified dismissal. Prince Wasp swept his plumed hat along
the floor with the profundity of his retiring salutation, and in the
same moment he flashed out his sting.
"I leave your Highness with less regret because I perceive that solitude
has its compensations!" he said.
The pair were left alone, but all things seemed altered now. Margaret of
Courtland was silent and distrait. Von Lynar had a frown upon his brow,
and his eyes were very dark and angry.
"Next time I must kill the fellow!" he muttered. He took the hand of the
Princess and respectfully kissed it.
"I am your servant," he said; "I will do your bidding in all things, in
life or in death. If I have forgotten anything, in aught been remiss,
believe me that it was fate and not I. I will never presume, never count
on your friendship past your desire, never recall your ancient goodness.
I am but a poor soldier, yet at least I can faithfully keep my word."
The Princess withdrew her hand as if she had been somewhat fatigued.
"Do not be afraid," she said a little bitterly, "I shall not forget. _I_
have not been wounded in the head! _Only in the heart!_" she added, as
she turned away.